An Absinthe-In-The-Rain Kind Of Night

Plus: Tim Keller faces death, wild monks and infinity, Hungary's genius, and Douthat

Me drinking absinthe at a street festival in rainy Montmartre, October 2012

Sometimes this newsletter is easy to write. Other times — like tonight — it’s hard. It’s hard because I’m just not feeling it. This is supposed to be a newsletter about sources of hope, but sometimes the immensity of our problems can put the smackdown on me. It’s an occupational …