Dear listeners of Coffee with Comrades, with special regard to the wonderful folks who support this program on Patreon, Hello! I hope that the autumnal season has brought crisp, cool air and abundant joy to you and yours. I write to you today with a bittersweet sense of pride and melancholy to announce Coffee with Comrades is officially coming to an end. Although I know I don’t “owe” anyone an explanation, I thought it wise—for both my own peace-of-mind and for the wonderful community that has sprung up around this show—to offer a bit of insight into my thought process on the matter and why I eventually came to this decision.  Coffee with Comrades got its start in June of 2018. I had recently moved back to Orlando, FL and was hanging out with my friend, Bree. She said, “Pearson, y’know what? We should start a podcast and name it Coffee with Comrades!” and (for better or worse) that’s exactly what we did. Over the 5+ years this show has been online, a lot has changed. History has happened, carrying each of us with it inexorably. A global pandemic shuttered windows, closed doors, and swept us all into quarantine. A massive, anti-racist uprising rocked the U.S. Strikes were won. Wars ravaged. Here at Coffee with Comrades, we have gone through multiple co-hosts. I met authors, musicians, artists, and the hosts of other podcasts and radio shows who I had long respected and finally got to befriend. I’ve broken bread with these folks, slept over at their homes, and turned to them for advice in times of need. I linked up with listeners all across the U.S. and became dear friends with many of them. We cultivated a joyful, wholesome, queer community on Discord where many have half-jokingly said, “I was cis when I got here!” In the end, if it weren’t for this silly little program, I would never have met my partner, Megan, and fallen in love. For a long, long time now, Coffee with Comrades has been an integral facet of my life. I’m in a different place in 2023 than I was in 2018. I am a partner and a parent now. I am teaching full-time. Over the past year, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on how Coffee with Comrades factors into my life. As many of you know, I graduated in May ‘23 with a PhD in Literature, Media, and Culture. Bree and I started this show about the same time I got accepted to teach at Florida State University. With each passing year, that degree took more and more of a toll on my mental health. In the end, it got to a point where I loathed the very idea of reading—a pastime that once brought me inexpressible pleasure and euphoria. Although I am slowly starting to get that sense of enjoyment back when it comes to reading, I cannot help but notice that I am starting to feel a similar sense of frustration and, if I am honest, even contempt whenever I think about creating another episode of the podcast. Cycles of burnout and frustration are, on the whole, pretty normal in community-organizing. For a time, I thought that was just what I was going through: the normal pattern of excitement, burnout, then new excitement once again. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time I went through that cycle working on Coffee with Comrades. On several occasions, I have taken breaks from the show to get back into the right mindset. This happened again fairly recently when Megan and I found out one of our dear friends had died. I put the show on hold so I could take care of my partner, our friends, and (importantly) take care of myself. But during that time of contemplation and distance from the show, I felt a disconnect greater than any I had experienced before. I realized I didn’t want to go back to putting out episodes. I did eventually put out another episode (and I am happy with it!) But I was actually low-key dreading getting back into the swing again. As I have said before, putting together a podcast is an enormous amount of work. Booking guests, scheduling recording times, doing the pre-production, recording the actual show, editing the show, doing post-production, uploading everything to the internet, managing social media, etc. It all adds up to an extraordinary amount of effort and, increasingly, I am noticing the fact that it has taken away from the number one creative passion in my life: writing. Writing stories, poems, and essays has been an enduring wellspring of joy throughout my life. I started writing stories when I was just seven years old and I have never stopped. But there have also been periods where I was more (or less) committed to my craftsmanship. Coffee with Comrades has been a creative project, to be sure. But it has also been one that has sapped my ability to concentrate more time and effort on other creative endeavors. Even still, I recently released my second collection of poetry, Your Mind is the Cathedral Where I Finally Find god. But what that experience helped me remember was just how life-affirming it is for me to write. How much I need the deft and lyrical melody of the written word. How playing with language mirrored the experience of reuniting with lifelong friends after too long spent apart. I began to realize that I was neglecting what I am best at, ignoring or overlooking the skills I worked so hard to cultivate. Alas, there are only so many hours in the day for creativity amidst the drudgery of wage labor, the thrills of being a partner, and the dedication require to be a diligent, compassionate parent.  To a certain extent, Coffee with Comrades began to feel like an obligation rather than a creative and political passion project. Gradually, it became increasingly evident that this dynamic was engendering a sense of anger and antipathy. I no longer wanted to put together episodes because I felt a strong need to address an injustice, uplift an important artistic project, or dive into political theory and action. I put together episodes because I hadto. Because Tuesday was coming up and I had to put out Content to feed the algorithm gods. Something, it seemed, was fundamentally broken and—try as I might—I couldn’t seem to fix the shattered fragments.  Something, somewhere had to give. Throughout its 5+ years, Coffee with Comrades has always centered the theme of militant joy. But, sad as it is to admit, this show is no longer bringing me joy. Instead of something that enhances my life and, by extension, the lives of others, Coffee with Comrades has become a toil, a drudgery. It has become work. This is antithetical to everything I cherish about anarchy. When I cast my gaze soberly upon all that I had wrought, I realized it was time to draw this chapter of my life to a close. In the end, in order to stay true to the principles I hold dear, it has come time for me to bid a fond farewell to this podcast and move on. I know this announcement may come as a bit of a shock to some of you, especially those of you who may not be in the Coffee with Comrades Discord server or those of you who haven’t read between the lines of our on-again-off-again scheduling as of late. I am happy to answer any questions folks might have about the podcast in our Discord, Patreon, or via email. I also understand this announcement may be especially disappointing to recent subscribers on the Coffee with Comrades Patreon. If this is the case, please get in-touch! I’d like to have the opportunity to make amends. I have taken steps to ensure that Patreon will no longer charge anyone starting Nov. 1, 2023. All that said, I am proud of the work I have done with this program. In the end, between formal/numbered episodes and bonus editions of the podcast, we have put forward over two hundred episodes of Coffee with Comrades. That legacy and that library live on for people to listen to and engage with and learn from. I know that the relationships I have made with friends, comrades, and fellow revolutionaries will continue onward into the future, come what may. I know that our struggle to transform the world into something more just, compassionate, and egalitarian endures so long as there is breath in our lungs and we continue to love and support one another. As a media project, I hope that this program helped elevate important conversations with community-organizers, authors, musicians, artists, and revolutionaries over the 5+ years we were on air. Anarchy is a powerful political philosophy. I have seen it put into practice time and time again in the communities I have had the good fortune of inhabiting. I do not know what sort of ruptures will happen in the weeks, months, years, and decades ahead as the empire I write within continues to self-immolate, catching us all in the raging inferno. But I reckon solidarity, mutual aid, autonomy, liberation, and anti-authoritarianism are our only path out of the morass of social hierarchy. If anarchy proves to be triumphant—even if only in fits and starts, at first—then that is due entirely to the strength of the relationships we forge in the crucible of struggle. To those of you who have supported this program over the years, I extend a tremendous and sincere thank you. Whether it was from financial contributions to our Patreon or just by telling a friend about Coffee with Comrades, I want you to know how meaningful it is to have been able to create something that resonated so powerfully with its audience. Even in a time of such marked turmoil and suffering, the friendships and camaraderie that I have experienced because of this show are truly inspiring and give me a sense of hope for the future of our world and all the critters who call it "home."  Know that even though Coffee with Comrades has come to an end, I will continue to be there with you—either in spirit or, with any luck, in the streets—in the struggles ahead. Stay wild out there, comrades. Yours in depthless love and deathless solidarity, Pearson