Six Month Trim
Close-cropped commentary on Buzzcut's first half-year
“I have a lot to tell you, but my tongue won’t get around it…so I’ll dance it!”
— Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis (1946)
Launching a newsletter is like dancing a zeibekiko. In this iconic Greek folk dance, a figure steps out from the crowd. They stomp their feet, slap the floor, leap into the air, and stumble forward while the community claps along. Like this solitary performer, a newsletter is sustained by a hidden flame within, and the energizing gaze of others. If you’re reading this, you’re energizing Buzzcut, a newsletter of close-cropped commentary on travel, style, history, and nature by writer, strategist, and philhellene Zander Abranowicz. This month I’m sharing life updates, recommending Substacks, and recapping the first six months of this project.
An appeal to share before we continue
I’m always keen to introduce new ideas to new people, and rely on you to spread the word about Buzzcut. Please take a moment to post an issue you enjoyed on social media or email a friend our link to subscribe. It means the world, every time.
34.0723° N, 118.3287° W
The View from Hancock Park, CA
After years pursuing separate professional lives while tackling freelance projects together on nights and weekends, and many more years doodling, writing, reading, and dreaming new worlds side-by-side, my brother (Simon) and I have formally launched our strategic design studio: Abbr. Projects. We’re now working full-time with clients in fields ranging from private aviation to web3 to eastern wellness to canine psychology. Inquiries are always welcome at projects@abranowicz.com, and you can follow our output on Instagram.
LC Cinema, my wife’s pop-up film project, has delighted audiences with two series of screenings in partnership with The Branch Museum and Agony Books. You can learn about upcoming events and find cinephile content on the LC Cinema Instagram.
I’m writing texts for a new book by my father, photographer William Abranowicz. It’s the least I can do for destroying his straw Borsalino fedora when I was a toddler. This will be our third book together.
I’m in Los Angeles, but have spent most of the past six months flying between our nest in Richmond and New York City, coastal North Carolina, and the Catskill mountains. I’ve snuck in trips to Lexington, Philadelphia, Stratton, Charleston, Saint Lucia, Raleigh, Ocracoke, and Asheville, and have Portugal on the horizon.
Newsletters worth their word count
I’m a true believer in Substack’s dedication to free speech and building tools for writers to build readerships directly. This platform is brimming with brave new voices, and I’d like to recommend a few of them.
Most Useful Information — insightful and hilarious book reviews written by a friend in Richmond
Di Freyd fun Yidishn Vort / The Joy of the Yiddish Word — moving translations and analyses of Yiddish poems by another Richmond writer
Blackbird Spyplane — bonkers observations and decrees on life and style in a singular stream-of-consciousness style
The Microdose — news and interviews about the state of psychedelics in America and abroad, initiated by author Michael Pollan
Where Buzzcut’s been
I advocated for libraries, imagined meeting a famous Jewish bartender at The Pierre Hotel, and sipped exquisite diner coffee in “Our Lady of Latter-day Libraries” (February 2022)
I unearthed the hidden meaning beneath a monument to Stonewall Jackson’s arm in rural Virginia in “The Veneration of Limbs” (March 2022)
I came clean about stealing cups from restaurants and sought modern meaning in the wisdom of ancient sages in “Stealing Cups” (April 2022)
I shared observations and photographs from a quaint Antillean fishing village in “Sketches of Saint Lucia” (May 2022)
I narrated a meditative day beside a creek in “Bathers by a Brook” (June 2022)
I pursued extinct woodpeckers through the primeval forests of early America in “The Thing with Feathers” (July 2022)
To my readers, friends, relatives, clients, and colleagues who humor my flights of fancy, I can’t thank you enough. I’ll keep dancing if you’ll keep clapping.