I’m building a newsletter and global community for the next generation of small business owners. It’s called For Starters.

It’s starting as a free weekly newsletter which you can subscribe to here.

If you have a minute, I’d love to tell you…

• about For Starters

• why I think you’ll find it interesting

• what’s next for Desire Paths

You might be wondering how I got here…

I’ve been interviewing business owners for most of my adult life. First at Monocle, where from 2011 to 2017 I built and hosted one of the industry’s earliest business podcasts, The Entrepreneurs, and where I witnessed the beginning of both the direct-to-consumer age and a huge boom in tech.

Then at Courier (RIP), where I was editor and editorial director, and where we inspired people to follow their passions and make a living doing what they love.

And now at Mailchimp, where I tell tales, write case studies and publish articles about awesome, growing businesses.

I really love telling stories of people following their dreams. It’s the best type of story there is, in my opinion. This is also why I launched Desire Paths, to shine a light on the more unconventional journeys out there.

But I think we’re about to enter a wild new era that’s even more entrepreneurial than ever before – and I think that no one is currently serving the quality inspiration and resources this new generation needs to succeed. So I’m gonna do it.

Everyone is starting something new

In 2023, 5.5 million applications were filed to form a new business in the US alone, an all-time record. That’s absolutely wild. A few years ago this might have been explained away as a Covid-fulled surge in side hustles. But actually something much deeper is happening: we’re on the cusp of a great wave of entrepreneurship.

More people than ever want to be their own boss. They’re turning their backs on traditional career paths. They don’t want to climb the corporate ladder. The thought of a 9-to-5 makes them want to jump off a cliff (literally… but also figuratively, into entrepreneurship).

But I’ve always thought there’s something odd: while VC-backed tech founders have got a whole ecosystem of advice, content and support, everyone else is left to figure things out on their own. Startups get the shiny toys and flashy conferences and big media titles while small biz owners get a pat on the back and a membership to some dusty networking group in a local Marriott conference hall.

This is odd because only a tiny fraction of new businesses are tech. The other 99.9% are small businesses. The silent majority. They’re shopkeepers, restaurateurs, florists, designers, fitness instructors, salon owners, makeup artists, DJs, ceramicists, cafe owners, content creators, bakers, wedding photographers, dog groomers, vintage sellers, food truck operators, bootstrappers, side hustlers, creatives, artisans and makers.

They’re STARTERS.

So I’m building this new email newsletter – and soon building a larger, more robust community and platform – for these starters. To even the playing field a bit, and to give this massive, overlooked, incredible group the inspiration and advice they need.

4 reasons to subscribe to For Starters

• Reason #1 → You probably have a business idea rattling around the back of your head. Or a list of 20 random ideas in the Notes app on your phone. Why not have 2025 be the year you make a dent on one of those dreams? For Starters is designed to help you turn them into reality.

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• Reason #2 → I’ll be telling stories similar to Desire Paths, but shorter in length and with the added benefit of advice. You won’t just read inspirational stories of people following their passions, you’ll also learn how to do it yourself. Stories like:

  • Why Dan Duncan quit his decade-long tech career to become the bagel maestro of Kansas City (in For Starters Issue 6)

  • How Gloria Allorbi, a cosmetic chemist, is bootstrapping a Ghanaian chili oil that’s now stocked in some of America’s biggest retailers (in For Starters Issue 5)

  • Why NYC-based Sam Kelly is disrupting the tattoo industry with his company Tiny Zaps (in For Starters Issue 4)

  • And how Canada-born, London-based Rachel Steed-Middleton turned a £70 investment into just over £5 million in revenue for her cult-favourite phone strap brand String Ting (in For Starters Issue 3)

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• Reason #3 → What people are saying (actual For Starters subscriber quotes)

  • “May be my most valuable (and fun) newsletter yet”

  • “One of my fav new newsletters. Highly recommend.”

  • “My new favourite way to kickstart Friday mornings.”

  • “Getting a roundup of all the great folks out there just making shit happen has been the energy kick I needed.”

  • “You've put together such a great mix of realistic reference points / creative inspiration for someone starting something.”

  • “The newsletter slaps! So much in each one, so much of value.”

  • “I feel like a hole has been filled where Courier used to live in my life.”

  • “As a small business fan myself, it’s already one of my favorite reads.”

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• Reason #4 → You literally have nothing to lose. For Starters is 100% free to join and you can unsubscribe anytime you feel you’re not getting something from it. You can read previous editions of For Starters and subscribe right here.

What’s next for Desire Paths?

It’s not going anywhere! It’s true, I’ll be focusing more of my attention on For Starters for the foreseeable, but I fully plan to write more Desire Paths editions as and when the right stories emerge. I think that’s best: you only get sent good things when the inspiration strikes. Maybe that’s next week. Maybe that’s 12 months from now.

If you’re starting something new, or you currently run a business, or you’re simply daydreaming (welcome to the club…), subscribe to For Starters for free right here.

And why not give a follow on Instagram and LinkedIn?

I hope you enjoy it. And thank you a million times over,

Danny

It’s been a long time since I gave an update on what I’m enjoying, working on and thinking about. So here goes: a stream-of-consciousness screenshot of my brain. (And if you’re waiting on more interviews and life wisdom from awesome small business owners and creatives, sit tight. They’re coming soon.)

01. Adios, Courier

I’ve bid adieu to Courier and started a new gig as editorial director at Mailchimp. Feeling lots of emotions. Big transitions are always weird. Leaving behind something that’s been your life, your passion, for so long. I’m sure you know what I mean.

With Courier it was love at first sight. In 2017, I left behind a stable, globetrotting job at Monocle to join a curious, tiny magazine that had only just begun to stretch its legs. Courier’s strapline was stories of modern business. It was stocked for free at cafes and coworking spots in London. It came out only a few times a year. But I was hooked.

There was something different about Courier. No one did what it did: fill a magazine with genuinely cool businesses, then inspire and show you how to start one yourself. When it launched in 2013, Courier was smart. Of-the-moment. Forget about billion-dollar tech startups—why not finally launch your side hustle? Or sell jewelry? Open a cafe. Build an animation studio. You could live a life on your terms and make some money doing what you love. That was Courier’s raison d'être.

I don’t know where the past six years have gone.

We built an incredible team, got stocked in dozens of countries, made 50 issues, signed a publishing deal with Gestalten, put out 3 coffee table books—including a new one called Dream Businesses (buy it here! I profiled Tok Kise, a Desire Paths alumnus)—grew our email list to 2m subscribers, organised an annual festival, made some films, launched a fund for amazing Black founders, ran a daily podcast during Covid, and then got acquired by Mailchimp.

So what’s next? At Mailchimp I’ll be working on creating top-notch editorial content, injecting more storytelling into the brand’s DNA, and helping to build out our thought leadership. It’s in the sweet spot of what I’ve always enjoyed doing: telling stories of people doing what they love.

See you on the other side.

02. Look at this car

Kim and I have watched a unhealthy amount of 1980s French films lately. One result: I’ve developed a major crush on Sophie Marceau…

Another result: I’ve discovered this insane vehicle. In La Boum (The Party), the family drives a wild orange French machine called a Matra Rancho. I had to pause to Google it. Do you know about this thing? I want one. Go down the rabbit hole…

03. LA vs Paris

Speaking of, we were in Paris recently. It rained. We were hyper-vigilant for (non-existent?) bedbugs. Pompidou tickets were delayed because of strikes. Severe jet-lag. And yet… god, I love Paris. Have been dozens of times in my life (the benefit of 12 years in Eurostar-able London, plus a French wife) and I still never get tired of it. Living on the westside of Los Angeles this past year really rewired my brain (in both good and less good ways). So this is what a walkable city looks like! It’s jarring when you make that transition: Saint-Germain and Santa Monica, the Marais and Abbot Kinney. Two different universes. We love lots about LA, but also really miss Europe.

Desire Paths is where fascinating people—business founders, creatives and others—share their lesson-filled life journeys. Check out the full story archive and subscribe so you don’t miss a thing.

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You’re reading a Diversion edition—a personal roundup of ideas, links, brands, recommendations and other good stuff on my radar.

04. Leica world

I’m not a gear guy. I don’t know, or care, about the latest bluetooth speakers, mobile phones, VR headsets, game consoles, whatever. It’s like Raihan said in the last edition of Desire Paths about spec sheet paralysis. I want a high quality thing, but then I want to ignore gear guides for the next 10 years. I don’t want to constantly look over my shoulder for version 2 of something. Who has time for that? Upgrading till you die.

As a street photographer I take a similar perspective. I try to stay zen, minimalist. One camera and one lens at a time. Less gear chatter, more taking pictures. For the past few years, my only camera was a Fuji X100V. It served me spectacularly well. I picked it up when it came out in 2020 (before it became as unfindable as a rare Beanie Baby). I’ve taken some of my favorite images with my V. It’s been with me on many trips and in many crazy situations. It’s a bit battered but still works perfectly. I’m convinced it’s the best all-around street, travel, take-anywhere point-and-shoot you can buy (or, again, try to buy…), for the price.

And yet. I saw Leica was releasing the next model in its Q series. Despite my philosophy, and despite the steep price tag (I mean, really, unreasonably, are-you-kidding steep), I was intrigued. And the more I learned about the Q3—and I’ll spare the nerdy details—the more intrigued I became.

Fast forward to months of saving, planning, and putting myself on waitlists in official Leica stores from LA to Miami. It still didn’t generate a camera in my hands. Too little stock, too much demand. After desperate pleas on a call with Leica in West Hollywood and finding out I still had another 3-6 months wait, I was told, It’s good to have patience. Waiting is part of the fun. I mean, sure. But I don’t want a Stoicism lesson. I want a camera.

So in Montmartre the other week, I walk into a tiny, slightly haphazard, but very quaint independent Leica and Hasselblad shop. No way this place has a Q3. The owner, Sandrine, is standing behind the counter, helping an older guy with an older Leica. When he leaves, I step up to the counter.

You’re going to laugh, but… you wouldn’t happen to have a Q3, right?

Sandrine threw a mischievous smile.

You want a Q3? Sure, I’ve got one. But only ONE.

SOLD.

My Fuji will play tag-team every now and then. For the moment, I’m focusing on discovering what this beautiful thing (and 28mm) has to offer. So far, so very good…

05. New photo books

A friend and a mentor have both released new photo books...

• Chloe Sherman, a San Francisco-based photographer who I met during the Alex Webb workshop in Oaxaca, just released her first book, Renegades: San Francisco, The 1990s: ‘a tender, joyous portrait of the thriving queer subculture in 90s San Francisco.’ Chloe’s a hugely talented photographer. Her work during Oaxaca was next-level, and I was so happy to see all the praise roll in for this book—including a write-up in the New Yorker. You can grab a copy here.

• Richard Kalvar, the Brooklyn-born, Paris-based Magnum photographer who’s a master of a certain kind of black-and-white observational opera-in-the-street style—and whose photography workshop I joined last year in Paris—has a new book out called Selected Writings: ‘photographs taken during his career that capture the written word, expressed on public signs, graffiti, gravestones or t-shirts.’ All sorts of brilliant snapshots of life here. Buy a copy from Richard directly here.

06. The Santa Monica Pier project

Speaking of, I’m finally approaching the end of my Santa Monica Pier photo project. I think. For the past year I’ve been visiting the pier every week, shooting its inhabitants, trying to capture a new perspective on a very old and famous place. I’ve taken tens of thousands of images. Spent countless hours there, solo, wandering, learning. How do I know it’s time to wrap it up? I don’t. Maybe it’s not. But a project has to end at some point. I read recently in a book about the famous street photographer Gary Winogrand that he died without developing an unimaginable number of his own photos. That’s wild.

And so I think it’s time to start a new phase. An even more painful and tedious one. Self-editing. Sequencing. Hustling. Meeting publishers and designers. And getting a book out there in the world. Any photo book publishers out there? Let’s talk!

07. Two new magazines

My friend Austė Skrupskyte runs a Stockholm-based creative practice called Studio Playground. She also runs a Substack of the same name and has just launched the first issue of a new biannual print mag. I was lucky enough to get a behind-the-scenes peek when it was still in development, and I’m incredibly impressed. You can read more about the mag here and grab a copy here.

And have you heard about INQUE? Graphic designer Matt Willey and editor Dan Crowe have created an annual literary magazine packed with world-class writers, designers, photographers, zero advertising, no web version, a giant format/size, and they're capping the lifetime of the magazine at 10 years (i.e. 10 issues). I love this experiment. Last year’s issue 1 was excellent. Issue 2 arrived at my doorstep recently and I’m still waiting to properly dig in. Get yours here.

08. Hitched (again) in Vegas

Kim and I spent Thanksgiving on a weeklong trip from LA to the Mojave Desert to Vegas to the Grand Canyon to nowheresville Arizona and back, with big stretches of Route 66, Navajo Nation, and terrain so alien I can’t even begin to describe it. We also renewed our vows after almost 4 years of marriage—with Elvis at Graceland Chapel, the self-proclaimed ‘home of the world’s first Elvis-themed wedding’. It’s sort of a long story. You only live once, right?

Side note: if you’re heading to Vegas, check out Best Friend, a bodega-slash-Korean BBQ joint in Park MGM, from Roy Choi. Excellent. Get the spicy pork. And look at this incredible menu…

09. A new year ritual

For some people, the end of the year means making instantly forgettable resolutions. But I’ve got another ritual. In December I retire the previous year’s battered Hobonichi Techo Planner—a perfectly-sized, highly quirky, beautifully-designed, run-my-life-with-it daily diary from Japan—and replace it with a crisp, fresh edition.

IYKYK.

10. Overcoming self-doubt

Finally, check out this 1965 letter from artist Sol LeWitt to sculptor Eva Hesse:

Dear Eva,

It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rambling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just

DO

Thank you, thank you, thank you,

Subscribe now

Housekeeping note: As a subscriber, you’ll receive both Paths (deep-dive interviews) and Diversions (brand recommendations, photo essays, article links) automatically. But I understand that’s a big spread of stuff. Good news: you can choose what you receive.

• If you’re into everything I publish: Correct choice. You’re already set.

• If you want to receive just Paths or just Diversions: Click here (you’ll likely need a free Substack account) and scroll to Notifications. Untick whatever you’re not into. No hard feelings! It’s that simple.

—DG

You’re reading the twice-a-month Diversion edition—a roundup of brands, ideas, links, recommendations and other good stuff on my radar.

Lessons from Oaxaca

Street photography can be lonely. But that’s by design.

You generally produce stronger work in this corner of the photographic world—the corner of capturing candid, fleeting moments—by going solo, wandering a city anonymously, melting into crowds, holding a small, inconspicuous camera. Marching in a group with bulky SLRs and zoom lenses this is not.

Endless online collectives exist to fill in that camaraderie gap and build digital community among street photographers, but they always leave me unfulfilled. (I think I’m just really bored with social media.)

That’s why I love photo workshops: tight groups of passionate people coming together, in real life, to produce and critique each other’s work, guided by experienced teachers. Workshops are incredibly fun and effective—you can seriously improve your game if you open yourself up to the experience.

I first whet my workshop appetite in Paris last year, with a weekend hosted by the American photographer and Magnum member Richard Kalvar. (Key takeaway: ‘Get closer!’). And in February I cranked it up a notch and joined an intense 8-day workshop in Oaxaca, Mexico, led by none other than Alex Webb and Rebecca Norris Webb.

This workshop was transformative—and not just for what I learned in the classroom.

Keep reading to see what I took away from the experience…

The images here were made in February 2023, in Oaxaca City and the villages of San Martín Tilcajete and San Jacinto Chilateca. Of the 7,517 frames I shot in Oaxaca on my Fuji X100V, the 18 numbered images below made it through the Webbs’ final cut.

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The joys of lifelong learning

As I get older, I’ve become less interested in things and more interested in experiences. They just make me happier. (It’s backed by research, too). I just really don’t need that quirky direct-to-consumer product targeting me on Instagram. Maybe I did in 2018. Today, not so much. I’d rather spend my money on a delicious meal, a trip to somewhere amazing or, increasingly, learning a worthwhile skill.

While adult learning sounds like the mission of a technical college in the suburbs of Milwaukee, I’m talking about picking up and honing new skills—photography, surfing, baking a perfect focaccia, speaking Mandarin at the level of a toddler—by seeking out teachers and books and then practicing over and over again to improve.

There’s a great book about this by Tom Vanderbilt. And I return again and again to this line from the legendary sci-fi writer Robert Heinlein:

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”

To be clear, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with just doing your one thing, perfecting a single craft, and being content by it—let’s call this the Jiro Dreams of Sushi path. Many people find such a singular focus to be philosophically more admirable. But personally, I aspire to Heinlein’s view of a life well-lived.

Given all this, traveling to a place like Oaxaca to improve my game in a workshop hosted by two photographic giants really fit the bill. I’d been on the hunt for another workshop since Paris. And while there’s something sort of juvenile about having favorites (‘My favorite color is green. My favorite animal is a dolphin…’), Alex Webb is without a doubt my favorite photographer. To learn from both Alex and Rebecca—an incredible photographer with a totally different style than Alex’s (more on that below)—well, it wasn’t even a question of applying. I had to. I wrote a short essay, sent in a portfolio, and a few months later was thrilled to be accepted.

The format influences the results

The workshop was called Finding Your Vision—taught by the Webbs and organized by La Luz, a photo education company run by Selma Fernández Richter, a Oaxaca-born, Minneapolis-based photographer. Selma was on site directing the show in Oaxaca. She’s amazing. A pro.

Twenty photographers from around the world flew in for the workshop: designers, photography students, some working photographers, some serious amateurs, some with day jobs that have nothing at all to do with design or creativity. All ranging from their early 20s to 50s. A real cross-section. I became friends with some fascinating people—including Chloe Sherman, who’s soon to publish her first photobook about 1990s San Francisco; Neill dela Llana, the king of street photography in San Diego; Andy Butler, a Mexico City-based creative director; and other talented photographers like Edwin Carungay and Kemp Attwood.

This was our daily schedule, more or less, for 8 days:

• Meet early at Centro Fotográfico Manuel Álvarez Bravo, a gorgeous Oaxacan photo institute named after the legendary Mexican photographer.

• Present to the class a tight edit (5 images max) of your previous day’s work.

• Hear constructive criticism of your work from Alex and Rebecca.

• Go out shooting by yourself for the afternoon, pursuing your personal vision of capturing Oaxaca City.

• Edit your work in your hotel room at night (which, for me, meant culling ~1000 daily images down to ~5).

• Drink mezcal, eat tacos and share stories till late.

Such a schedule almost forces you to improve. You don’t want be the person who hears valid criticism, then comes back the next day making the same mistakes. Healthy peer pressure is a hell of a way to sharpen your skills, push yourself and grow.

Learn to love criticism

99% of street photography is failure. That’s a thing people say. It’s in books. Alex and Rebecca said it, too. And it’s true. Some images, despite how much effort you put into making them, just don’t work. They don’t click. They don’t say something new or fresh or exciting. They just… are. One student presented a gorgeous image of a local Oaxacan craftsperson making something. By many respects it was a great shot. But was it bringing something new or interesting to the table? “It just is what it is,” Alex said, gently. “It doesn’t take us further.” He was right.

The Webbs liked many of my photos and didn’t like others. And that’s okay. The trick is to leave your ego at home, absorb every piece of advice thrown your way, and figure out how you’ll put it to good use to express yourself better. How can I use this feedback to say what I want to say more effectively?

You can ignore it, too. That’s also fine. But then… why are you here again?

Your vision needs to be your own

I’m naturally drawn to packed frames, big depth of field, multiple layers, complex compositions, strong shadows and patches of bright color. In other words, an Alex Webb photograph. Artists in their early years often imitate those they admire. Copying the masters is a good way to get into the flow, build muscle memory, see what works and what doesn’t. It helps you discover what kind of photographer you’re not. But as you open yourself up to chance and curiosity, you might eventually develop your own style. “How you photograph is directly related to who you are as a human being,” Alex explained.

But this takes time. Years and years. Some people never reach escape velocity from the imitation phase. (One can even make the case that every artist is just copying every other artist who came before, ad infinitum; that no style is truly unique. And they’d be completely correct. But let’s forget that for the moment.) I’ve been shooting street photography for a decade now and I like to think that I’m only just now developing my unique style—one I’m confident about.

“There’s a mystery and magic to the process”

One afternoon, I was camped out on a corner in an industrial neighborhood of Oaxaca City for maybe a half hour. The light was heavenly. The graphic red typeface was ace. People entered the frame from behind the corner, unaware of me, only to be snapped immediately. Brilliant. I took 100+ shots here. Many of which were pretty good!

But just when I thought job done and was about to continue wandering, a woman walks by with a kid in her arms. Wait… that’s actually a doll. A bizarre, creepy doll. And then Spider Man appeared from around the bend.

Click.

Weird things happen. Don’t question them. Thank the photography gods and move on.

Creative partnerships

One of the most interesting observations during the week was the creative partnership between Alex and Rebecca. The two share a website and an Instagram page. They hold workshops together. And they create joint books in which their photographs play off each other in subtle ways. It’s a real partnership.

Rebecca was originally a poet, which is very evident in her work. Open up My Dakota, inspired by her brother who died unexpectedly, or Night Calls, a meditation on fathers and daughters, and you’ll see what I mean. The images are deeply lyrical, focusing on people, animals and landscapes in a way that’s quite different to Alex.

Look at this haunting image of hers, of a giraffe in Paris. It’s perfect.

Aesthetically it appears to be in a different universe to Alex’s work. But when you reflect on it, and sit with their work side by side, you realize it’s actually in a parallel universe, as somehow they flow very well together. And that’s how their book Slant Rhymes came into the world. It’s 80 images, pairing one by Alex with one by Rebecca—they’re sort of visual rhymes that talk to one another.

They’ve produced other books together, like Brooklyn, Violet Isle, Memory City, and On Street Photography and the Poetic Image, which is a distillation of their views on working in the street and, in many ways, the foundation for their workshops.

It was also fun watching the two of them develop and deliver critiques of our work. They didn’t always agree. They’d whisper, debate, point, argue, and then come up with a useful joint critique that somehow absorbed their own disagreements. An art.

Be open to the experience

As in all travel experiences, unexpected things happen and you’ll enjoy yourself a thousand times more if you embrace it and double down on the unknown.

Oaxaca was no different. It’s a wonderful place. An hour after landing in the city, my taxi broke down on the side of the road, so I hopped in a colectivo van, a big taxi full of other people going in your general direction. I had hilarious conversations in very broken Spanish while Mexican party music blasted from the speaker. Then a gentle earthquake hit the city that night.

During the following week, I found myself in situations I couldn’t believe…

Swept up in a quinceañera with a 16-year-old princess in a pink dress on horseback and hundreds of well-wishers. In the center of a throbbing, smoky courtyard party celebrating Lent in a tiny 600-person village. Walking in carnival processions with drunk people in grotesque masks. Black devils popping out of side streets, scaring you before disappearing as fast as they arrived.

I loved it all.

The journey is the point

After the workshop ended and we all said our goodbyes, Oaxaca airport was hit with severe delays and cancellations. Some in the group, not wanting to miss work the next day, took a chance and drove rented cars to Mexico City. Most of us stuck it out at the airport, including Alex and Rebecca.

One by one, as the red cancellation signs turned green, we boarded flights. To places like New York, Ecuador, San Francisco, Cleveland, Seattle, Miami, North Carolina, Chicago. I hopped on a flight to LAX. Because of the delays, though, I missed my connecting flight, and spent a few miserable, sleep-deprived hours at a dodgy motel in a Mexico City suburb.

The next morning, I was back at the airport at 3am. Zero people were around. Janitors were cleaning the place. I used the quiet to reflect on the previous 8 days.

Then, from out of nowhere, Alex and Rebecca strolled in.

We all laughed.

And we spent the next hour in a completely empty terminal, tired but suddenly energized, having the best conversation of the week.

More Oaxaca images are on my website. You can check them out here, if you’re interested.

Thanks! —and until next time,

• Don’t miss it: Next up in Desire Paths is the brilliant illustrator Ilya Milstein, who explains his highs, lows and inspirations. Then chocolate maker Vincent Mourou shares his twisting tale, from France to Hollywood to the cacao fields of Vietnam.

Subscribe below so you don’t miss a thing.

—Danny

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You’re reading the twice-a-month Diversion edition—a roundup of brands, ideas, links, recommendations and other good stuff on my radar.

1. At a distance

The other day I was walking around my LA neighborhood with a camera, as I do, when I bumped into one of the world’s most famous writers. This guy, a master of short stories, winner of the Man Booker, frequent New Yorker contributor, at the pinnacle of his field, was in sweatpants, walking his dog. Was that…? A quick Google confirmed that yeah, it probably was. In situations like this, you either blurt out something embarrassing or you go about your day. I chose a third, more questionable path, one I deployed only once before, when I spotted Thom Yorke on a quiet street in London. I started walking with him. Not with, really, more behind, at least until I could think of a line better than, ‘I love your books. So I’ve got this newsletter…’

Sometimes you do odd things.

Moments later, our guy walks up the driveway of a beautiful house—his house, presumably—and plops down on the porch. Man, dog, at peace, in the sun. A scene of domestic tranquility that’s just crying out for a stranger with a camera. So I cross the street and backtrack home. That’s when he clocks me. Our eyes meet. I’m not a weirdo! I yell with those eyes. Just a fan! Is there really a difference?

Maybe I’ll request an interview through official channels. At least I’ll have a good anecdote. In the meantime, if you spot an odd, bearded, camera-toting minor character in an upcoming book…

2. Mango sticky rice

Last week was my birthday and we celebrated by going to Anajak. It’s been on my list forever and this was a great opportunity to make the pilgrimage.

Anajak is a Thai restaurant in Sherman Oaks run by Justin Pichetrungsi. But it was opened and operated by his Thai immigrant father Ricky and mother Rattikorn since 1981. For years, things hummed along just fine. Until 2019, when Ricky had a stroke.

To keep the business afloat, Justin quit his career as an art director at Walt Disney Imagineering and took over the place. Anajak picked up steam. During Covid, Justin launched Thai Taco Tuesday (#TTT), which quickly gained word-of-mouth and has become legendary. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind. Anajak has grown, experimented and impressed to the extent that LA Times named it its 2022 Restaurant of the Year. It’s currently #2 on the list of the 101 Best Restaurants in LA. Wild.

It’s a place you gotta book pretty far in advance, but Anajak’s a billion miles from pretentious. You walk in and there’s a vibe that’s warm, but unusual, and somehow makes sense. Is this a scrappy family-owned Thai spot or an elevated hipster scene? Dunno. Both? A signed picture of The Fonz is on the wall, a bulging fridge with unbelievably good wine, west coast rap on the speakers, white tablecloths, inexplicable stacks of cardboard boxes, a Lakers jersey dangling from the ceiling, a guy polishing glasses in the dining room, a phalanx of servers (seemed almost a 1:1 ratio with customers), and Justin running around making sure everything’s perfect, stopping to greet people, swinging by a TV actor’s table to my left—the leading character in a dystopian Apple TV workplace series. (Man, should I say hi too? Just a fan!)

Side note from a longtime Londoner: LA really isn’t all about famous people, but they are, in fact—alas—a part of life here, and seemingly everywhere.

And the food. We ordered the famous fried chicken, papaya salad, lobster special, crab fried rice, and mango sticky rice made by Justin’s mom, Rattikorn herself, who came over with a proud smile to say hi and ask how it was.

It was perfect, Mrs. Pichetrungsi.

I can’t wait to go back.

3. Hiroshima

The film Oppenheimer was gorgeous and horrific and, in classic Christopher Nolan style, grandly told. But throughout it all I couldn’t stop thinking about a famous story of what happened next.

Here’s the cover of the August 31st 1946 edition of The New Yorker, which featured a fun illustration of happy people in a park:

But instead of the usual format—articles, fiction, book reviews, cartoons—readers opening this issue were confronted by a single, 68-page long, ~30,000 word story by the war correspondent and novelist John Hersey. Hersey’s work, now one of the most famous pieces of long-form journalism ever, told the stories of six real people who survived the atomic bombing on Hiroshima.

The bombing happened almost exactly a year earlier, but it was still taboo in the West to talk about the horrors and reality of what happened, let alone interview victims. Hersey did it. And it was a sensation. It was turned into a book a few months later.

I’ve gotten into the habit of collecting copies of the book whenever I see it in secondhand bookstores, including my 1946 first edition (below at left).

You can read Hiroshima in full on the New Yorker’s website here. Wikipedia’s also got a tidy summary. LitHub, too.

4. On the pier

I’ve been quietly working on a photo project involving Santa Monica, California, where I live. Hopefully, eventually, one day, it will be a book. Writing about it here, in public, keeps me accountable and motivated.

So when Eli London—a NYC-based writer and photographer and Substacker behind The Breads—said he’s coming to LA, we agreed to meet up and shoot.

I suggested Santa Monica Pier.

Santa Monica Pier is a spectacular place. Really. All slices of life. Families on vacation, road trippers at the tail end of their Route 66 adventure, buskers and beggars, business travelers playing hooky from convention centers, old people staring at the ocean, magicians and preachers, fishermen praying for a bite. I try to get out there once a week to bask in it and blast through a memory card.

Check out Eli’s photography here and make sure to watch out for his pier shots.

And more on my Santa Monica photo project as and when…

5. Readings & links

People carving their own path.

1. The wise surfer

To Be Frank explores authenticity and community in surfing via Frank Paine, a 73-year-old South Bay icon and humble local legend whose life orbits around a two-block stretch of beach. His unforgettable mustache and magnetic spirit are what most first notice, but Frank’s deeper layers expose a depth that might answer some questions that us surfers continually ask ourselves. [Vimeo]

2. The fashion designer

Bode was founded on the Lower East Side in 2016 by Emily Adams Bode Aujla, who took a vintage sensibility and upcycled it into a luxury menswear brand that women also love to wear… Walk along the east end of Canal Street now and you might feel as if you’ve wandered into some sort of Bode–Green River colony… Call it Bodeworld. But who wants to live in it? [The Cut]

3. The immigrant family

Flanked by fabric shops and stores displaying elaborate quinceañera dresses, a tiendita on the humble corner of 12th and Wall streets was engulfed by a joyous — and curious — frenzy Thursday morning. Here in the heart of downtown Los Angeles — in the shadow of poverty and despair of Skid Row — someone had just won $1 billion. As word spread across the largely immigrant-run shops in the Fashion District, thrilled that someone in their neighborhood could suddenly be so rich, there was a giddy excitement in the air. [LA Times]

4. The Tehran pencil dealer

In a dimly lit corner of Tehran’s Grand Bazaar, Mohammad Rafi’s small shop stands out with its display of art pencils. Despite the digital age, Rafi remains loyal to his passion for the past 35 years, surrounded by a multitude of pencils in every imaginable hue and shade. [Catastrophe/AFP]

5. The Oregon winemaker

We were there to sample Harrison’s wine, but to our surprise she began the tasting by pouring for us some of the finest wines from France, which is to say some of the best wines in the world… “I’m having you taste these wines,” Harrison explained finally, “to create a context in which to taste my wines.” To grasp the audacity of this statement, you have to remember that Oregon’s wine culture is, relatively speaking, in its infancy. As far as we know, the state’s first pinot noir vines were planted in 1961, whereas the first vineyards in Burgundy date to at least the first century A.D. Harrison’s declaration was akin to my kicking off a reading in a local bookstore by reading passages from Flaubert, then announcing that I’d been creating a context in which to hear my work. Was this woman kidding? [NYT]

6. The fish fryers

These three businesses – the Pittenweem Fish Bar in Pittenweem, the Wee Chippy in Anstruther, the Popular in Dundee – shared not only a potato supplier but the near-religious devotion of the communities they serviced. They were run by men and women who had thick skins, literally so when it came to their fingertips, which had become so desensitised to heat that they could be brushed against boiling oil to better position a fillet of frying fish or test the readiness of chopped potatoes as they fizzed and crisped. [Guardian]

7. The man (and dog) on an adventure

While searching for tuna last week, a helicopter pilot spotted something bobbing in the vast blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean, more than 1,200 miles from land. It was a small white catamaran, badly damaged. Aboard it was a man with a shaggy, sun-bleached beard and bedraggled hair. He appeared somewhat dazed. When a small boat sent by the helicopter caught up with him, he said his name was Timothy Shaddock and that he and his dog, Bella, had been at sea for about three months. [NYT]

6. Recommendations

Stuff I’m loving.

• As a red sauce guy, I enjoyed this Twitter thread in which a scientist rated supermarket marinara brands.

• This multi-part recap from in about what it’s like to eat at Noma (before it goes away forever) is fun. He took photos and notes throughout the meal and tells you what he really thinks.

• I recently picked up a solid pair of binoculars—Nikon’s Monarch M5 8x42— at REI. The view through these things is so crisp. Also discovered a challenger brand called Nocs which has a great story.

• My buddy Ed Little has launched a new British honey brand. Kudos: ‘For every jar you buy we replant 100 wildflowers along British beelines helping to protect biodiversity up and down the UK.’

• The Intimate City is a fabulous book. The New York Times’ architecture critic goes on walks with architects, writers and historians. Filled with beautiful photographs of the city and its buildings.

UNTIL NEXT TIME,

This is Desire Paths, where I go deep with fascinating small biz owners and creative people, sharing their incredible, lesson-filled life journeys.

You’re reading the twice-a-month DIVERSION edition—a more personal roundup of brands, people, photos, links, recommendations and other good stuff on my radar. Fewer interviews, more fun.

I’m just back from unbelievably hot and humid (but always amazing) New York—and this newsletter is packed with some of the trip’s highlights…

• Courier blows up NYC

• Street shots from the city that does it best

• Dashwood Books’ legendary manager

• Plus, things to buy & read

*NOTE: This edition is sort of long. Click here to read it in your browser instead.*

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I want to sincerely thank you for supporting, reading and sharing this little newsletter since I began writing it in December. It means a lot—and I hope you’re enjoying it.

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1. Courier takes on NYC

Courier—the magazine I played a role in building and editing over the past 6 years—is London-based, so it’s always fun to share the mag with new audiences outside the UK. Even though the print mag’s got readers in most corners of the planet these days and our email newsletter’s got ~2 million (!) subscribers, there are still bajillions of small biz owners who don’t yet know about us. (How’s that for a total addressable market?).

The US in particular is a juicy market. I dream of airdropping Courier from planes over major American cities. But… sounds expensive? Instead we spread the gospel via fun events. As we did last week.

A small Courier crew flew to NYC for a packed schedule of meet-and-greets—first at magCulture Live, an indie mag conference hosted by the London-based mag store’s founder, Jeremy Leslie. Our editor John and photo director Anna spoke on stage, as did Matt Willey and Dan Crowe, who shared their war stories from launching, funding and producing the incredible Inque, Zembla and Port. I also finally met up with Happy David, the creative and organizational force behind the inimitable Casa Magazines—she’s got a Desire Paths-worthy story herself. And I had a great chat with Ali at the shop too, but missed Mohammed on this trip. They’re the best.

Then there were Courier dinner/drinks in the subterranean lounge of Casino (former site of Mission Chinese, which was a surprise.) Italian riviera vibes, 90 degree heat, cocktails, giant shrimp, and lots of familiar faces, friends and supporters. The night was hazy but I definitely geeked over analog cameras with Malcolm Dia, talked media shenanigans with Brian Morrissey, caught up with Éva Goicochea about her sexual wellness company Maude, learned about Central American distillers from Mark Byrne, and heard the latest in snacks/booze innovation from Andrea Hernandez. Thanks everyone.

And if you haven’t yet seen a copy of our new issue, but all means grab one here.

Onward and upward…

2. Shadow hunter pt. 2

Last month I wrote about my infatuation, obsession, passion for street photography—and shared images I made during a recent trip to London. Now it’s New York’s turn.

NYC is in many ways the spiritual home of street photography, but also one of the best places to still practice it. (Paris might take issue with the former statement and Tokyo or Mumbai with the latter, but I’m just talking facts. Highly subjective facts.)

NYC is where some of the all-time greats did their best work. Winogrand, Levitt, Meyerowitz, Leiter, Arbus, Erwitt, even Weegee. As someone who’s shot everywhere from Bangkok and Seoul to Naples and New Orleans, there are few cities that match the high-octane energy, weirdness, beauty, and abundance of bizarre, serendipitous moments of shooting in New York’s streets.

Here are some of the images I brought home from a week there.

3. Dashwood Books

What’s better than an indie bookstore? An indie bookstore specializing in photobooks. Strike that. An indie bookstore specializing in photobooks with a manager who’s a true expert and cares deeply about your experience.

Yeah, that’s it. And that’s Dashwood.

Dashwood Books, for the uninitiated, is a small, beautiful, perfectly curated shop in NoHo, founded by David Strettell in 2005. It’s also one of the most important photobook stores in the country.

The shop is managed by Miwa Susuda, a photo consultant and owner of the publishing imprint Session Press. Miwa moved to NYC from Japan two decades ago. And when you walk in, Miwa’s inevitably there behind the counter—ready to greet you, give suggestions, and take your photo when you (surely) buy something. You’ll probably end up on her Instagram.

On my visit, I talked with her for a half hour. First about the effects of AI on photography—I’m pessimistic; Miwa less so, explaining the human role and intention behind photography will always persevere—and then she asked me what drew me to the books I chose, including a beautiful, slim Susan Meiselas volume. She suggested additional options from behind the counter. Have you seen this one? What about this? This photographer is up your street, too.

Price check? $250. $90. ($600?!)

On her suggestion, I ended up getting a gorgeous book of Araki—the Japanese photographer who Miwa’s actually worked with—featuring his black and white street photos from NYC:

I told Miwa I’d love to interview her for Desire Paths. Let’s see if she says yes. Maybe one day you’ll see her face—and story—here. Until then, why not visit Dashwood, say hi, and bring home a new book? (Or read this great interview she did with Drake’s).

4. Readings & links

People carving their own path.

1. Casual Luke Rides the Big Wave

Earlier this year, a North Shore local named Luke Shepardson paddled out during his break and won the most prestigious big-wave competition on the planet, beating some of surfing’s brightest stars. So we went to Hawaii to figure out how Luke pulled off the damn near impossible. [GQ]

2. What Happened When Henry Yao Almost Went Bust

For 13 years, he had been a beloved figure, another small business owner folded into the local framework. He liked the straight talk of New Yorkers and loved anything baseball. Especially the Mets. Maybe you, too, have a Mr. Yao. A familiar fixture at a restaurant or bodega or bookstore or coffee shop. Someone who sells you a slice of pizza, repairs your shoes, cuts your hair, remembers your face. A sight of comfort in your usual territory. Maybe you take them for granted. Maybe you will notice when they are gone. [NYT]

3. How Dr. Bronner’s became the soap for every subculture

Dr. Bronner’s progressive ideals are largely driven by tie-dye-and-black-fedora-wearing David, who is CEO, but not chief executive. The three letters instead stand for “Cosmic Engagement Officer” (Mike is president, and the tonal difference in their titles loosely reflects the contrast in their personalities). Lisa, the youngest, is consumer educator and blogger; their mother, Trudy Bronner, is chief financial officer; and Lisa’s husband, Michael Milam, is chief operating officer. [LAT]

4. The Battle of Fishkill

Domenic Broccoli, the IHOP kingpin of the Bronx, lives a good life. He drives a nice car, spends time with his six grandkids, and golfs often enough to have a tan for most of the year. He owns a four-bedroom home in Pelham Manor, a house upstate, and IHOPs throughout the borough where he grew up, each of which runs smoothly enough to give Broccoli the time and resources to devote himself, at the age of 66, to the animating force in his life: destroying his enemies. This mission came as a surprise to Broccoli, who had little reason to expect that trying to expand his pancake empire into upstate New York — and to build his grandest IHOP yet — would lead to such conflict. But sometimes that’s what happens when you find a dead body. [Curbed]

5. Venkatesh Rao: the master of cultural trends

The founder of low-fi website Ribbonfarm tells us how he made a career out of analyzing movements of the moment – from premium mediocre and domestic cozy to the internet of beefs. [Courier]

6. Building Salmon Creek Farm: inside California’s ultimate creative retreat

I ‘dropped out’ in 2014. Traded in home in LA for a life in the woods. I bought a commune founded by idealistic hippies in 1971 on California’s Mendocino coast. Eleven handcrafted cabins clinging to logging roads carved into a south-facing slope of second- and third-growth redwoods. I wrote a letter to the 13 remaining shareholders and expressed interest in continuing the legacy and spirit of the place. [Wallpaper]

5. Recommendations

Stuff I’m loving.

• Brownbook. It’s back. The thick magazine was sort of the Monocle of the Middle East and North Africa. Great photography, stories, paper stock. You read each issue and ended up with 50 tabs and 10 pages of notes. But it mysteriously stopped printing in 2018. On a visit to Tate Modern last month I saw a fresh copy. The new issue is all about Middle Eastern connections in Tokyo. It’s fantastic.

• LongHouse Reserve. We went to Storm King recently, the massive, 500-acre sculpture park in upstate New York. It was beautiful. But… alright, have you been to LongHouse Reserve in East Hampton? Because I think it’s better. A micro Storm King. More surprises per square foot. But maybe I’m missing the point.

• Hibi. Tiny Japanese incense sticks that burn for 10 min. Here’s the brand’s story.

• Uncharted Supply Co. I’ve used these guys to fill out parts of an emergency / earthquake / bug-out bag (or two). Very quality stuff. Living in Southern California is a whole different vibe from London, lemme tell you…

• Family. Looking forward to getting the new issue of Kennedy Mag from Chris Kontos, Athens-based photographer and all around creative/smart guy.

• Le Restaurant l'Estagnol. The most special restaurant I can think of. A childhood spot of my wife Kim. Near Bormes les Mimosas, in the south of France. In a forested area 10 meters from the beach, dining with feet in the sand, giant pots of langoustine spaghetti and red sauce, fresh fish cooked on freshly cut wood, massive umbrellas to shade families in bathing suits, lots of white wine. Founded by Patrick (Pat) and Geneviève (Gene) in 1991 and now run by them and their kids.

UNTIL NEXT TIME,

This is a DIVERSION edition of Desire Paths—an every-other-weekend roundup of good stuff, things on my radar, brands and people I like, links and recommendations and a whole lot more.

In this edition…

• Collecting tiny turtles & wooden pigs

• Making an apple pie from scratch

• Who’s behind Mojave Road Guide?

• Links on… Cambodian doughnut kids, fishing flies like streetwear drops, a Taiwanese chili researcher, a rediscovered novelist, and a Swiss photographer of the NYC subway.

• Plus stuff to buy

I’m Danny Giacopelli, an editor, photographer, traveller and small business fan. By day I’m Editor-at-Large for Courier magazine. This is my personal newsletter, Desire Paths.

Desire Paths is based on the idea that the most fulfilled, fascinating people in the world chase after risky dreams, change careers, make unconventional decisions, and cross oceans to start something new. I go deep with them—small business owners, designers, shopkeepers, farmers, billionaires, hermits, maybe even you—and share everything I learn.

1. Little animals

You’ve got too many little animals, Kim said the other day.

She was gently dissuading me from buying yet another one. Not real, furry, breathing things. Wooden and stone. For me, they’re meaningful tokens, talismans, memories of adventures. I collect them on the road or when discovering a new place. Some are just for fun. Others I’d save from a burning building. I definitely have too many. But I probably won’t stop anytime soon.

Here are some of my little animals, shot in their natural environment, as California’s golden hour light poured through the windows.

Above: Here is my terracotta monkey holding a rice ball, made by a Japanese craftsman named Reizo—the 7th generation of a clay doll making family—and handpainted by his daughter Sae. Raizo says the monkey’s message is for people not to suffer from hunger and to have a happy life. I bought this little guy (girl?)—and the racoon below it—from Sachiyo Itabashi, the incredible LA-based owner of YOKA. Yoka means “good” in Sachiyo's local Kumamoto dialact. Her brand is Sachiyo’s way of sharing the work of Kumamoto artisans with the world.

Above: This wooden bird comes from London, via a store in Stoke Newington called FOLKA, via a small village in the Beskid Mountains, where an artist named Bogumila carves them by hand from real birds she can spot around her house.

Below: And this little bird was carved by Kenyan artists. I found it at a small store near the old port area in Nice, France.

I bought this cute turtle from an antique store in LA’s Chinatown. It’s made by cloisonné—a technique where golden/metal strips are filled in with colored material. The shell pops off and it turns into a tiny vessel.

Here’s my hand-carved alebrijes wooden bear from Oaxaca. Anyone who’s been to Oaxaca knows these magical, whimsical, beautiful figurines are literally everywhere. Some are mass-market tourist junk, others are special and made by well-regarded artists. I wanted to take home a special one and took my time finding this.

Above: This horse was living in a cavernous vintage store in San Luis Obispo.

Below: And Kim and I can’t agree on where this Chinese horse came from…

Here’s a fat, happy pig head. It was waiting for me at a market in Hoi An, Vietnam.

I’ve always loved the turquoise-y blue of these tiny sculptures. This little cat isn’t “real”—in that I got it at the gift shop of the British Museum. But it’s real enough.

More monkeys. Above is another one from YOKA. This ceramic guy is holding a plate. I put my jewellery and wristwatch in it every night for safe-keeping.

And below, a tiny fake jade one I got for super cheap ($8, I think) in LA’s Chinatown.

A small cast iron pig from a Mexican homewares store in San Diego. This thing is heavy.

And a swallow I picked up in Lisbon—an iconic souvenir from the local craft and lifestyle store A Vida Portuguesa, which is always well worth the trip. You can pick up one yourself, in various sizes. A small swallow costs €10.90 while an extra large one is only €21. A bargain.

2. Making a pie from scratch

Every now and then I think of Carl Sagan.

Sagan was an astrophysicist, cosmologist, humanist and science educator—a true throwback to those ancient days when society celebrated science, scientists and critical thinking. (Alright, grandpa, let’s get you to bed…). Sagan was a legend. As prolific as they come. Just read the first few paragraphs of his Wikipedia bio. He was also a philosopher, in the sense that all people who search for the truth are sort of philosophers. And he had a way with words.

In his 1980s TV series Cosmos, which Sagan wrote and hosted along with his book of the same name—and which, for a while, became the most widely watched US TV series of all time—Sagan said:

“If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.”

Man, I’ve always loved that.

And, of course, there was Pale Blue Dot.

The spacecraft Voyager 1 was launched by NASA in 1977 to explore the outer Solar System and interstellar space. By 1990, Voyager was hurtling into space and was 4 billion miles from home. (It’s now 14 billion miles away).

At Sagan’s suggestion, NASA instructed Voyager to take a snapshot of Earth. Which it did. And if you squint below, you can see us. We’re that tiny speck in the ray of sunlight. Earth is, as Sagan described it, a pale blue dot.

In 1994, Sagan wrote a book inspired by the photograph. He was trying to put our existence within a broader perspective. Everyone that has ever lived did so on that ‘mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam’. We are, Sagan explains, both insignificant in the grander scheme of the universe, but also highly significant given that we haven’t found life elsewhere. The lesson? Be kind. Have perspective. And cherish life’s fragility.

Below is a recording of Sagan reading one profoundly moving excerpt from the book, along with the transcript. It gets me every. single. time.

That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

—Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot (1994)

3. Mojave Road Guide

Back on Earth. I was in San Diego last weekend, rummaging around the secondhand bookstore Verbatim Books (thanks for the tip, Megan Lucero), and I saw this:

Desert theme, gold embossed title, green leather cover, odd cartoon mouse? What is this thing? Five dollars later it was mine, and I started digging in.

Mojave Road Guide (1986) was written by the adventurer and historian Dennis Casebier, who lived a very Desire Paths-y life.

The Kansas-born ex-Marine fell in love with the Mojave Desert back when he was stationed at Twentynine Palms in 1954. Love became an obsession, and years later Dennis made it his life’s mission to restore, promote and conserve a 150-year-old desert wagon trail that had been almost completely forgotten: The Mojave Road.

Mojave Road Guide was Dennis’s attempt to share the road’s wonders with hikers and others—explaining what to see along the way, who to meet, and how to treat the land with respect. It’s fun, very DIY and slightly bonkers. I would have loved to interview Dennis about his adventures, but he died in 2021 at the age of 87.

Wanna hit the Mojave Road yourself? You can pick up a new and refreshed (but less beautiful, alas) copy of his guide here or here.

4. Readings & links

People carving their own path.

1. The Doughnut Kids Are All Right (Eater)

Meet the “doughnut kids,” second-generation Cambodian Americans who grew up bathing in commercial kitchen sinks as babies, selling lottery tickets after school, and folding endless stacks of pink boxes during summer breaks. This new class of doughnut entrepreneurs witnessed their parents working early mornings and late nights, seven days a week — and internalized both the struggles and successes of running a small family business.

2. Fishermen Queue Up to Drop $100 on Ben Whalley’s Saltwater Flies (Bloomberg)

Ben Whalley makes fly-fishing flies and operates a business model like streetwear drops: Ben’s flies go for as much as $100 each, a price that’s virtually unheard of. Fans don’t seem to mind; his latest monthly drop of 70 flies sold out in less than four minutes.

3. Taking a Late-in-Life Victory Lap, Thanks to His Novel’s ‘Lunatic Energy’ (NYT)

Robert Plunket was living in a trailer park in Englewood, Fla., with his pug, Meatball, when an email interrupted his life of quiet retirement. An editor in New York wanted to publish his debut novel. The message struck Plunket as odd: The novel, first published in 1983, had long been out of print, and Plunket, after a brief moment in the spotlight, had fallen off the literary map. “I did feel like an obscure has-been,” Plunket said, “because that’s what I was, technically.”

It’s rare for a long-forgotten writer into his eighth decade to get rediscovered. What’s even more unusual about Plunket, and his unlikely return, is how stealthily influential his fiction has been over the decades.

4. The Quest to Save Chili Peppers (The New Yorker)

In 1999, Susan Lin, a bespectacled plant researcher at the World Vegetable Center, in Taiwan, pulled on a pair of latex gloves and got to work cross-pollinating some chili peppers. She collected tiny white flowers from a cayenne-pepper plant, shook their pollen into a tiny test tube, and walked over to an aji-chili plant. Using tweezers, she removed the petals and anthers from its flower buds, exposing the thread-like stigmas that serve as the plant’s female reproductive organs. Then she dipped the stigmas into the pollen, hoping that they would eventually form peppers.

Lin was trying to breed a plant that was resistant to anthracnose, a fungal infection that blisters mature chili peppers with sunken patches that look like cigarette burns. The disease afflicts farms from New Jersey to New Delhi; in India alone, anthracnose was estimated to inflict losses of around four hundred and ninety-one million dollars a year…

5. Hell on Wheels: Photographing the MTA at the Dawn of the 1980s (Brooklyn)

In May of 1977, a 30-year-old Swiss photographer named Willy Spiller, newly arrived in New York City and recovering from the one-two punch of jetlag and a night in the notorious Chelsea Hotel, descended the steps of the city’s subway for the first time. What he saw was terrifying. And electrifying. And, truth be told, addicting.

5. Recommendations

Stuff I’m loving.

• Mondo Mascots. In Japan, seemingly every town, company and organization has a mascot. This Twitter account documents that amazing, often unhinged, universe.

• Paynter’s new shirt. You can now pre-order Paynter’s new Indigo Sashiko Camp Collar Shirt, which dropped today. It’s beautiful. They rarely miss a beat.

• Fuji X100V. This has been my main camera since it came out a few years ago. And for many reasons it’s one of the best value cameras you can buy, full-stop. But when the new Leica Q3 was released a few weeks ago to endless fanfare, I had a brief flirtation of insanity and thought about entering the red dot world. But I’ve reconsidered. Why change something that’s not broken? X100V for life. (Well, until Fuji releases a Z or something…)

• The Why Files. This guy breaks down mysteries and myths and conspiracy theories on YouTube. He’s a skeptic and a fantastic storyteller. It’s fun and weird. There’s a talking goldfish involved. I’ve been binging for days now. Watch this one on the simulation hypothesis. Mind-blowing.

• Layla’s Bagels. And my local bagel shop in Santa Monica is really giving NYC a run for its money. I know, fighting words.

—

UNTIL NEXT TIME,

In this every-other-weekend DIVERSION edition of DESIRE PATHS…

• Why I do street photography

• A photo series from 10 days in London

• Things to buy & read

I’d also love if you’d consider subscribing…

Subscribe now

…because the next BIG INTERVIEW coming your way is with my man Matt Horrocks, who runs the mega popular running club Your Friendly Runners. YFR began as a hobby and has since grown into a business and a movement—taking over east London’s streets one weekend at a time.

Over coffee at Ozone in London Fields, Matt and I dug into how he’s taking the club to the next level and what exactly he’s hoping to build. Twists, turns & inspiration. A Desire Paths classic in the making.

Hit the subscribe button above so you don’t miss a thing.

I’m Danny Giacopelli, an editor, photographer, traveller and small business fan. By day I’m Editor-at-Large for Courier magazine. This is my personal newsletter, Desire Paths.

Desire Paths is based on the idea that the most fulfilled, fascinating people in the world chase after risky dreams, change careers, make unconventional decisions, and cross oceans to start something new. I go deep with them—small business owners, designers, shopkeepers, farmers, billionaires, hermits, maybe even you—and share everything I learn.

1. Shadow hunter

What makes you happy? What makes you feel most alive?

For me, it’s walking around a city with a camera.

I’m a street photographer. Which, in my case, means I spend early mornings, lunch breaks, weekends and every possible free waking hour roaming the streets of cities, hunting for candid moments, serendipitous encounters, poetic chaos in crowds, and all the shadows and light I can find.

It is, admittedly, a weird one. Not everyone understands the allure. Why take photos of strangers? Don’t they get angry? What’s the point? I often find it difficult to answer. But it has something to do with…

1. the zen, meditative, flow state—of camera in hand, stresses left behind, permission granted to yourself to get lost, figuratively and literally.

2. the fun of the hunt—the addictive feeling that anything can happen and you’re there to witness it and bring it home, every bodily sense on high alert.

3. the joy of capturing something true—freezing a real moment in time, not staged or planned, no studios, assistants or lighting; just your eye, instincts & camera.

But ultimately: why take street photos? Why bake a cake? Go surfing? Do karaoke? Climb Everest? Because you can. Because it’s there.

A year ago I took a photography class in Paris with the great American Magnum photographer Richard Kalvar. This past February I was in Oaxaca for an extended workshop with Alex Webb and Rebecca Norris Webb. I hope to soon share what I learned from these masters—and the images I brought home with me.

But below I’m sharing some of what I saw on a recent trip back to London, the city in which I fell in love with street photography, where I lived for 12 years, and where briefly, for 10 days, I fell back into my old ways. I hope you enjoy them.

Sometimes you hunt, sometimes you fish.

Hunting in street photography is when you hit the pavement at speed, ducking & diving between people, sniffing out situations, and shooting on the move. Your senses and intuition guide you on the journey.

Fishing is when you find a perfect spot, where the light and shadows fall just so, a spot with an interesting enough setting, environment or backdrop where a human drama could, maybe, unfold. And you wait. And wait. Until something good happens. Or, in 99% of cases, it doesn’t.

I found a spot like that in Borough Market.

2. Readings

Links & people doing cool things.

1. “Meet the New Mayor: How a Refugee Won Over a Conservative German Town” (New York Times)

   ‘The beer was flowing, the bratwurst were sizzling and the brass band at the village May Day festival led the crowd in ever tipsier renditions of the local drinking song. Clinking glasses all around was Ryyan Alshebl, a lanky, bearded 29-year-old from Syria. Eight years ago, Mr. Alshebl was part of the historic influx of refugees who crossed the Mediterranean Sea by dinghy and trekked the continent on foot, seeking asylum in Germany and other countries. Now he is the new mayor of Ostelsheim, a village of 2,700 people and tidily kept streets nestled in the rolling hills near the Black Forest in southwestern Germany.’

2. “Axis Deer Are a Threat to Hawaii’s Native Species and You Can Help Out by Eating Them” (Food & Wine)

   ‘In the 1860s, eight chestnut brown, white-speckled axis deer were introduced to the Hawaiian island of Moloka‘i as a gift to King Kamehameha V. One of the few species of deer that can breed year-round, they quickly multiplied, feasting on grasses and native Hawaiian plants. Hawai‘i has no native mammals and the axis deer encountered no predators. A century later, some deer were moved to Maui, where they wreaked havoc… Luckily, Jake and Ku‘ulani Muise of Maui Nui Venison are at the forefront of keeping this ecological disaster at bay. Axis deer happens to be delicious, and their business grinds the meat into hamburgers, slices it into medallions that need just a quick sear in butter and a sprinkle of Hawaiian sea salt, and shapes it into hot dogs for nationwide shipping.’

3. “Meet the Man With the Keys to the Vatican” (National Geographic)

   ‘His mornings begin at 5:30 a.m. in a secure bunker that holds 2,797 keys. Crea and his team of 10 clavigeri—five each on the morning and evening shifts—open and close 300 doors every day, mobilizing about 700 employees along with them. They traverse a 4.6-mile route through the museums which see up to 28,000 visitors per day.’

3. Recommendations

Stuff I’m loving.

• ISHKAR—years ago I discovered the brand ISHKAR, which sold gorgeous craft products from Afghanistan. I bought some handblown glass tumblers from them, which I treasure. The founders Flore de Taisne and Edmund Le Brun have since grown the company, adding events and a travel arm. They're now crowdfunding to open a store on Columbia Road in London. Check it out and consider giving them your support!

• Kaimana Jerky—fantastic, sustainable tuna jerky from a family-owned Hawaiian company. (You can try this if you’re not into axis deer…). I got hooked in Honolulu.

• Speedboat Bar—a spicy, vibey, fun new Thai restaurant near London’s Chinatown.

• Living—a film based on a screenplay by Kazuo Ishiguro and adapted from the 1952 Japanese film Ikiru. Bill Nighy plays a bureaucrat in the Public Works department in 1953 London. One day he decides to change his life. Every shot was absolutely perfect. Appropriate to this edition of Desire Paths, the film also reminded me strongly of the street photographs of Saul Leiter. I watched it on the flight back from London and might have shed a tear. (It’s on Netflix, too.)

• Hightide—I’d like one of everything at this Japanese lifestyle store. They’ve also got an LA-based brick and mortar shop at ROW DTLA.

• The Premonitions Bureau—I just began the latest book from Sam Knight, a prolific staff writer at The New Yorker (whenever I see his byline, I read it immediately). So far, so fascinating. Here’s the premise:

  ‘On the morning of October 21, 1966, Kathleen Middleton, a music teacher in suburban London, awoke choking and gasping, convinced disaster was about to strike. An hour later, a mountain of rubble containing waste from a coal mine collapsed above the village of Aberfan, swamping buildings and killing 144 people, many of them children. Among the doctors and emergency workers who arrived on the scene was John Barker, a psychiatrist from Shelton Hospital, in Shrewsbury. At Aberfan, Barker became convinced there had been supernatural warning signs of the disaster, and decided to establish a “premonitions bureau,” in conjunction with the Evening Standard newspaper, to collect dreams and forebodings from the public, in the hope of preventing future calamities.’

UNTIL NEXT TIME,

• A road trip in California’s high desert

• Entrepreneur Josh Bowden’s big pivot

• Readings, recommendations & lots more

Also, a BIG THANKS to all the new subscribers who found their way here via my Why is this interesting? interview last week. I really appreciate you signing up!

And if you’re coming from somewhere else, I’d love if you subscribed…

Subscribe now

Every other weekend you’ll get an email just like this, filled with interesting, escapist DIVERSIONS. And every so often you’ll get a deep-dive interview with an entrepreneur or creative person building their own PATH and doing incredible things.

I think you’ll like it here.

I’m Danny Giacopelli, a writer, photographer, traveller and small business fan. By day I’m Editor-at-Large for Courier magazine. This is my personal newsletter, Desire Paths.

Desire Paths is based on the idea that the most fulfilled, fascinating people in the world chase after risky dreams, change careers, make unconventional decisions, and cross oceans to start something new. I go deep with them—small business owners, designers, shopkeepers, farmers, billionaires, hermits, maybe even you—and share everything I learn.

1. Poetry on the road

“Standing there, gaping at this monstrous and inhuman spectacle of rock and cloud and sky and space, I feel a ridiculous greed and possessiveness come over me. I want to know it all, possess it all, embrace the entire scene intimately, deeply, totally...”
—Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire (1968)

As someone who grew up on suburban Long Island, with malls, lawns and every modern comfort and convenience known to man, I have a weird affinity—an unearned familiarity, even—with desolate, wild places.

Don’t get me wrong. I love cities. I’m a city guy, a city wanderer, a street photographer. I’m at home, in my element, in a place like Ho Chi Minh, Naples or Seoul. But increasingly, I’ve got an urge to get out into nature. Spend time on mountains. Have adventures like a kid. Maybe it’s a phase? I hope not.

In particular, I love the desert. The otherworldly horizons. The light. How quietly alive everything is. The fact it can kill you in an instant if you don’t respect it. I love how I feel in the desert. Maybe I was a nomadic herder in a past life. A bank robber on the run. A coyote.

Of course, moving from London to LA last summer really lit the fire. Head north on the 405 or PCH from my place in Santa Monica and within minutes you’ll see something beautiful. Travel for a half hour and you’ll be dumbfounded by how such a huge metropolis like LA (a city-state, even) can be so close to real wilderness.

But drive for an hour or two? You’ll enter another universe.

I’m writing this from London. I’m spending next week here working and catching up with colleagues and friends. But last weekend I was about as far away from Hackney as you can possibly get—the Cuyama Valley. The middle of nowhere.

If the Serengeti and the planet Mars had a baby and raised it directly on top of the San Andreas fault, it would look something like New Cuyama (pop. 562), a few hours northwest of LA in central California’s high desert. There’s even a sign on a stretch of Route 166 that warns you to gas up and get supplies, because there ain’t nothing for another 50+ miles.

But middle of nowhere is usually what people call places they don’t understand. Right? Places that don’t have a Sweetgreens on every corner.

There are, of course, wonders everywhere.

And in New Cuyama, one of them is a 1950s-era roadside motel called the Buckhorn.

Next week, I’ll share my interview with the Buckhorn’s owners, Ferial Sadeghian and Jeff Vance, who bought the place back in 2018. What began as a hospitality project to rejuvenate a remote gem soon grew into a community project more rewarding than they could have imagined. Keep an eye out for it—it’s a good one.

While staying at the Buckhorn, I spent two days on the open road around New Cuyama, where I drove my increasingly muddy Subaru through deserts, grasslands, mountains and forests.

Below are some images I took on my (increasingly battered) Fuji X100V, in Carrizo Plain National Monument, Los Padres National Forest, and Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge, where we stumbled upon two—two!—of the few hundred California condors remaining on the entire planet.

It’s supposedly a sign of luck. I’ll let you know if good fortune or a curse comes my way…

It was at this point we had an experience…

The California Condor is the largest bird in North America—a wingspan of almost 10 feet, if you can believe it—and also the rarest. Back in the 70s, only a few dozen were left in the wild. Their numbers dwindled over the years from hunting, lead poisoning (eating carcasses with lead fragments), and other humans generally being bad activities.

In the 80s, every condor was captured and taken to zoos for breeding to prevent them from becoming extinct. Today, thanks to the efforts of humans who are great, some condors have slowly been released into the wild.

There are now 347 of them out there, somewhere.

We were in Los Padres National Forest, and I crossed my fingers we’d see a tiny black blip, high up in the sky.

And then we turned a corner…

Right there, high up on the edge of the cliff, staring down into the valley for their next meal, were Condor 62 and 70.

They looked like huge turkeys, but more dignified, and also from another planet.

Kim and I sat in the car next to them, in awe, for probably a minute—but what felt like ten.

And then we went on our way.

2. A true pivot

Back to the city, back to LA.

I love learning about business founders who began their journey making X, before pivoting to making Y. Years ago I interviewed Jason Goldberg, the founder of Fab.com, and heard how he turned the company from a social network for gay men to a furniture brand valued at ~$1B. That’s a pivot.

I also enjoy when an internal, DIY, scrappy tool put together by a company with glue and paper clips becomes so effective that they spin it out into a product. Sometimes it even becomes the main product—the business itself. I like it because it shows how random acts of serendipity are often the invisible hand of business. You might remember Jack Dorsey originally created Twitter as an in-house comms tool (twttr) for employees of the podcasting company Odeo. Wild.

I was reminded of all this when I met up with Josh Bowden the other day.

Josh is co-founder and CEO of the sustainable packaging company noissue. They’re based in New Zealand and they make packaging for some of the world’s most well-known consumer brands. It’s an incredible company. They’re killing it.

But Josh wasn’t always making biodegradable bags. He used to make glasses.

Back in the day, he and his buddy Augie Gruar ran an eyewear company called Lewis Fredericks, which made frames from waste materials. They were stocked at places like Mohawk General Store. They even did a collaboration with my old pals at Monocle.

But when Josh and Augie were investigating sustainable, quality packaging solutions for their products, they realized there weren’t many good options. And when they finally sourced and cobbled together their own beautiful, sustainable, custom packaging, they found that the retailers they spoke with were more interested in the packaging than the glasses!

These are signs from the gods, friends.

They promptly quit the eyewear industry and got into packaging.

Noissue was born in 2017.

Opportunities, they’re everywhere. Just keep your eyes open.

3. Readings

Tabs, links & people doing cool things.

1. “Meet the Cambodian Cowboy, a Texas Barbecue Pitmaster in Long Beach” (Eater).

   ‘Long Beach chef Chad Phuong’s life sometimes feels like a triptych, three independent panels in time that collectively portray a full scene. There is Cambodia, the place of his birth, where he bore witness to genocide before escaping with his mother. There is Long Beach, where he arrived as a refugee and found a whole new life. And there are the grazing fields of Hereford, Texas, considered one of the nation’s centers of beef production. Phuong has channeled all three into his current life as the community-dubbed Cambodian Cowboy, a meat-slinging American Cambodian character who smokes and grills from a mobile setup that he attaches to his Toyota Tundra, selling food under the name Battambong BBQ.’

   I’ve made the pilgrimage to Battambong BBQ to have some of Chad Phoung’s Texas-Cambodian fusion BBQ myself. It’s great.

—

2. “Meet the Alaskan Brewers Making Sustainable Beer in One of the World’s Most Remote Cities” (Modern Farmer). Married couple Marcy Larson (an accountant) and Geoff Larson (a chemical engineer) moved to Alaska back in 1982 and eventually found their way to extremely remote Juneau. They decided to start a beer company. There were just a few minor problems to solve…

   ‘The Larsons were aware that Juneau’s isolated location would present very specific challenges for them. Tucked between the Gulf of Alaska and steep glacier-filled peaks reaching up to 4,000 feet above sea level, Juneau is remote even by Alaska standards, reachable only by air and sea with no road access. “When we told our malt supplier it needed to travel on an ocean-going container, they were shocked—they’d never done that before!” says Marcy.’

—

3. “Where are all the stories of Black adventurers? This L.A. native’s mission is to find them” (LA Times)

   ‘Have you heard about the Buffalo Soldiers, Black servicemen who served as some of our very first park rangers? Or the cyclist who attempted to bike to the South Pole? What about the French alpinist who could’ve been one of the best in the world, had he not died tragically on the highest peak in South America?

   I didn’t know any of these stories until I spoke with James Edward Mills, 56, who started the Joy Trip Project in 2009 to cover the people and culture of the outdoor recreation industry, and to unearth buried stories, especially of adventurers of color.’

—

4. “A New York Locksmith’s Hard-Earned Wisdom in “Keys to the City” (New Yorker). I just love this from filmmaker Ian Moubayed. You can watch the film here. (Thanks to Maverick Pettit-Taylor the tip!)

   "‘Anyone who has locked themself out of a car or building knows the panicky feeling of vulnerability that sets in when the door you took for granted will no longer open. The director and cinematographer Ian Moubayed found himself in that exact situation several years ago, when he got locked out of his New York City apartment in the middle of the night. He found a locksmith to help him get back in, and he realized that locksmiths have a unique window on the lives of New Yorkers—they are summoned in moments of great stress, by customers from all backgrounds and with all kinds of stories. That interaction was the catalyst for Moubayed’s short documentary “Keys to the City.”’

—

5. “Why Every Fashion Kid Is Suddenly Collecting Old Books” (GQ). I mean, I guess this is okay? Better to collect old books than something polluting the world and terrible? As long as it doesn’t jack up prices and ruin everything for lifelong secondhand book enthusiasts (like me)? Alright, maybe I hate this…

   ‘Following a few cool moodboards on IG isn’t enough anymore. To attain true aesthetic clout, you need to own physical copies of vintage fashion tomes, lookbooks, and magazines—and a new generation of book dealers is here to help….’

4. Recommendations

Stuff I’m loving.

• LifeWear. Whenever I pass by a Uniqlo, I pop in to grab a copy of LifeWear, their in-house mag. Great editorial direction, stories, photographs, and those sweet, sweet, chaotic Japanese print layout designs. No surprises that Lifewear was launched by Takahiro Kinoshita, Popeye’s former editor-in-chief.

• Mon Oncle. Elsewhere in Japanese editors starting new things, I stumbled into this fun site via Derek from Die, Workwear:

  ‘Last summer, I was delighted to learn that Eisuke Yamashita, a former Men’s Precious editor, now runs his own website, Mon Oncle (French for “my uncle”).’

  I’ve since gone down the rabbit hole. His site is bonkers and refreshing. I love the colours, illustrations and animations. Look at that little pipe smoking guy when you scroll down the screen!

• Speaking of websites... Have you ever visited the (very real) website of Berkshire Hathaway? You’re in for a treat.

• Danner boots. Always been a fan of Danner’s red laces and old-school styling. I’ve got Red Wings for the city, but wanted something I could beat up on day hikes in the Santa Monica mountains. But nothing too technical or pricey. So I picked up a pair of Mountain 600s. Zero break-in needed. They’re good to go out of the box. The most comfortable boots I’ve owned, full stop. (I’m still saving my pennies for these, though.)

• Eating in Thai Town. We took a few trips into LA’s Thai Town recently to tick off some legendary spots. Made it to Sapp Coffee Shop, Luv2Eat, and the dessert shop Bhan Kanom Thai. All were next-level. Get the Hoi Joh—deep fried dried tofu wrapped crab rolls— at Sapp. Get the Moo-Ping—grilled marinated pork skewers at Luv2Eat. And get anything at Bhan Kanom Thai. You literally can’t go wrong at these spots.

  • Meanwhile, my buddy Raihan swears by this place.

• Pilgrim Supply’s ‘Ivan Longsleeve’ shirt. This is easily one of the best shirts I own, for one reason: GIANT front pockets and nice thick material. Each pocket can hold a hilarious number of things: iPhone, notebook, etc. Extremely useful when your trouser pockets are full/ tight and you left your cargo shorts in your childhood bedroom. (Fair enough, these are sort like having cargo shorts on your chest). I’ve got it in beautiful indigo which is sold out, but they’ve got one in black.

Next week, a BIG INTERVIEW with Ferial Sadeghian & Jeff Vance, owners of Cuyama Buckhorn. If you’ve ever wondered what it takes to buy an old roadside inn and make it shine, give this one a read.

Thanks for reading and have a FANTASTIC one,

Then, as usual, a few times a month you’ll get the juice, the meat—a BIG INTERVIEW with someone who’s doing or building something incredible. These are called Paths.

In this edition…

• The unbelievably good new issue of Courier

• Meet Arthur, the 86 year-old musical legend

• A (very brief) LA taco tour

• Readings, recommendations & more

1. Courier’s new thing

I work at Courier magazine. That’s my day job and has been since 2017. I presume that’s how many of you know me and why you subscribed to this newsletter in the first place. I got here all those moons ago after jumping ship from Monocle, where for 6+ years I lived on planes and bounced around a Monocle-y archipelago of places like Bangkok, Davos, Taipei and Antwerp, sticking podcast mics in the faces of entrepreneurs, ambassadors and other characters. It was wild and fun and rewarding, where I spent the formative years of my career, but at some point I caught sight of this thing called Courier—a newspaper-ish mag about businesses, but cool businesses, and stocked for free almost exclusively at indie cafes and co-working spaces in east London. I loved it.

Courier in those days had a tiny crew, scrappy culture, huge promise and a mission I could really get behind: telling authentic stories of modern business. Instead of puff pieces about the same 10 VC-backed Stanford tech founders like some other biz mags, Courier wrote stories of normal mortals quitting their cubicle jobs to launch something worthwhile and profitable, with advice on how you, the reader, could do it too. (We still do this, by the way). I joined and hit the ground running.

Six years later. A tiny loft in Shoreditch to professional digs on Hackney Road. Deputy Editor to Editor to Editorial Director to now Editor-at-Large from my perch in LA. Two acquisitions, first to Mailchimp and then to Intuit. And countless mag issues, print guides, podcast episodes, events, email newsletters and fat hardcover books. It’s been a journey.

And yet, our latest thing might even be the best. A few weeks back, I spent 48 hours in London to celebrate the launch of issue number 50, which was developed by a small, incredible team in our London office. The mag’s been ripped up, redesigned and reengineered. Made more relevant and fresh, to an almost unbelievable extent. It’s very different, but still very Courier. A hard thing to pull off.

When I held it in my hands at the party, which also marked our 10 year anniversary, all I could say is damn.

It takes a village to make a magazine and the Courier team are the best around. Bravo to everyone who made this a reality.

In the coming weeks, a bajillion stores around the world will stock this issue. (Okay, just the good ones). You can also buy a copy at Courier’s webshop. Or if you see me in LA, I’ve got a big box of them in the trunk of my car and can give you a good deal…

2. A chance encounter

Last weekend I was with Kim at Descanso Gardens, a 150-acre oasis of flowers, streams, fruit trees and forests in LA. It’s a botanical garden. A beautiful place. Nature, tamed. After a while of exploring, Kim went to read a book in the rose garden and I got lost in the ‘ancient forest’, or what looked like a Jurassic Park set.

On my way back, an elderly Japanese man in a motorized wheelchair and a Japangeles sweatshirt rolled up to me. He introduced himself as Arthur and told me about the wonders of Descanso. How the flowers are gorgeous, unlike anywhere else. He pulled out an iPad. Look at these flowers! He scrolled through album after album of flowers and family. How much did you pay to get in here? he asked. Did you come alone? $15—and no, I’m with my wife. What a deal you’re missing out on! Arthur said. He told me about Descanso’s membership program and how much money I could save by joining.

At this point, I wasn’t sure where this was all going—am I about to join a cult? buy a timeshare? give this man a cut of my inevitable life membership to the gardens?—but Arthur was lovely and I was having a great time. Sometimes, you talk just to talk.

After 15 minutes, it was time to go. Arthur and I said our goodbyes.

And then I noticed a little bag around his waist, with a stack of handmade business cards inside. So I asked for one.

It turns out Arthur isn’t in botanical garden membership sales. He’s also not just some random kindly old man.

He’s 86 year-old Arthur Nakane, an internet-famous one-man band, the subject of a documentary, a 2010 contestant on America's Got Talent, and a man who’s had a pretty incredible life.

He’s prolific. Per Wikipedia:

He sings over 1,000 songs of various genres including pop, rock, oldies (including 50 songs by Elvis and 40 by the Beatles), standard, traditional, folk, country, western, Latin, Hawaiian and Japanese. He sings in English, Japanese and Spanish. In addition, he is also known for his famous song, “Anderson is the Best”, where he made top 85 on America's Got Talent.

Come see me in Little Tokyo one day! Arthur said, smiling. Then he wheeled away.

I was so delighted by the entire interaction that I had a big smile on my face, all the way on my walk back to Kim and the roses.

Where have you been? she said.

You’ll never guess what just happened…

3. The value of a good guide

My buddy JJ Figueroa and I went to college together in upstate New York. A bit after graduation, I shipped off to London, while JJ moved to San Francisco. As luck would have it, we’re both now living in LA. JJ’s from here and we’re making up for 15 years of lost time. Like going on taco tours. A mutual friend was visiting from overseas a few weeks ago and we wanted to treat him to some of LA’s finest. So we went to Boyle Heights. Despite JJ’s day job in tech/sales, the dude should really have a side hustle as an LA taco guide. He knows his stuff.

There’s nothing like a passionate local to show you around. It’s a game changer.

1. Tacos De Canasta El Abuelo

2810 E Olympic Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90023

JJ: “These are tacos made in a large batch, very, very small and steamed in a basket. Hence the name tacos de canasata (tacos from the basket).”

2. Burritos La Palma

2811 E Olympic Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90023

“These are phenomenal. Don’t let the burrito name fool you. They are burritos from Zacatecas but more like a large taco. So you can try more than one meat.”

3. Mariscos Jalisco

3040 E Olympic Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90023

“The classic shrimp taco spot. They are the legit kings of LA in that category.”

4. Mariachi Plaza

Mariachi Plaza, Los Angeles, CA 90033

We ended with some top Mexican coffee, pastries and people-watching in Mariachi Plaza, where for years mariachi musicians have historically hung out, hoping to be hired by restaurants, events and regular joes.

The fact that LA has places like this makes me love the city even more.

4. Recommendations

Stuff I’m loving lately.

• Hobonichi Techo Planner. This Japanese daily planner has changed my life. I might devote an entire Desire Paths to it one day. NYMag loves it too, apparently.

• Benchmade Bugout knife. I carry this pocket knife with me every day. It’s sharp, unbelievably light (really—like air), made in America, and will last forever. I also have the Mini Bugout, which is much smaller and even lighter.

• Alwych notebook. I love these notebooks, made in Scotland. It’s got a textured, weather-resistant cover and a royal blue color on the edges of the paper. They’re sturdy, cheap(ish) and beautiful to look at.

• Breath by James Nestor. Learning that mouth breathing is the root of all evil. Eye opening book.

• Capri Club. Great aperitivo bar in Eagle Rock. Thanks to 's David Michon for the tip and for meeting me there for Lasagna Night.

• Wildsam guides. These small travel guides are the best around. Full stop.

5. Final thoughts

1. Check out the story of Gregory Ruppe, a surfboard shaper in Texas… 4+ hours from the ocean. Per Texas Monthly:

‘When pandemic lockdown began and all art events were placed on hiatus, the artist, who has served as the director of exhibitions for the contemporary art space the Power Station since 2013, found himself landlocked by travel restrictions. Desperate to be out on a body of water, he crafted his own wooden paddleboard to use on local lakes. “With a long history of woodworking and a stubborn DIY attitude, I made my first ten-foot paddler,” says Ruppe. That act reignited an interest in both research and object-making. He quickly switched to producing surfboards as Picnic Surf Shapes.’

I also love his website.

2. There are lots of unfinished, empty concrete buildings in West African cities. To do something productive with them, Haitian-​Ghanaian designer Dominique Petit-Frère launched the spatial design company Limbo Accra. Very cool.

3. And I just learned that the 10,000 daily steps thing is total bullshit. And the reason why is hilarious.

Via Scientific American:

‘Yet the concept of taking 10,000 steps a day to maintain health is rooted not in science but in a marketing gimmick. In the 1960s a company in Japan invented an early pedometer. Because the Japanese character for “10,000” looks like a person walking, the company called its device the 10,000-step meter.

“It was just sort of a catchy phrase,” says I-Min Lee, an epidemiologist at Harvard Medical School and Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston. Taking that many steps daily is challenging but doable for many people. “Sure, if you get 10,000 steps, it seems like a good goal. But there was not really any basis to it.”’

Perfect. No notes.

UNTIL NEXT TIME,

Subscribe now

Hey friends. Last week I mentioned I was thinking of sharing some images from my trip to Hawaii. Lots of you said sure, go on then. So here they are. They were shot in Honolulu, Haleʻiwa and everywhere in between. It was my first time in Hawaii and I immediately fell in love. It’s just that kind of place.

Happy to share tips and recommendations, too. Just get in touch!

DG

Desire Paths is a newsletter about the wild, winding, lesson-filled lives of fascinating people. If you enjoyed it, I’d love if you’d subscribe or share with a friend.

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