Table of Contents
Hi friends!
Days in the sun, and nights in the rain
Summer is over, simple and plain
I love an interlude
Change is difficult for me even within an album, and having a good interlude swaddles me through the catalogue with the sweetness of a doting mother. Interludes are an opportunity to pause, take a breath, and reflect.
As a teenager during what Twitter considers the incomparable summer that was Summer ‘16, I adored Drake’s album Views. I tore through many songs, but I will always have a soft spot for “Summers Over Interlude,” which I quoted at the top of the newsletter. Some guy that isn’t Drake sings a longing ballad marking the death of summer. I used to listen to it in all four seasons during high school and college. The way the song meanders feels something like a final goodbye at the end of a relationship.
We arrive at another onset of fall. Not to be your boomer coworker, but can you believe it’s already October? As climate change grips our planet, the slow waves between seasons grow choppier, with a sweaty week in New York followed by light jacket days and nights in the 50s.
Flooding consumed the city on Friday, and people stayed home if they could. What the national headlines did not show is how New Yorkers have basically been on study abroad in India based on the monsoon season we are in. Yesterday and today have been back to normal, but the past 10-ish days were accompanied by ugly rain. Not the pretty kind of Natasha Bedingfield rain on your skin — a downpour that messes up your hair and makes the day look like night.
The rain and cooling combined in this strange seasonal transition we are in. We escaped the heat with pumpkins on the horizon, but my Christian Girl Autumn fantasy is not in full swing yet. As I mentioned earlier, change is difficult. The seasonal interlude, its cooling and graying, brings introversion to the forefront. My blossomed summer self wilts as I feel myself retreating from the world more and more.
Living in New York brought out my most active self. Although I moved here during the winter, its mildness mixed with my wildness propelled me to many an outing whether alone or alongside others. As the temperatures climbed, I socially did the same, filling my schedule even more than before.
I was on a high all summer, and the comedown is happening now. My couch and RuPaul’s Drag Race are becoming a more enticing combo than a walk and a coffee. I am persuading friends to come to my apartment instead of meeting them across town. I arrive later than usual and sometimes cancel when I don’t feel like getting up. My motivation to stay moving is always that I know how much fun awaits me when I arrive. That fun looks foggier when the Real Housewives are fighting in front of me.
Summer is not completely gone yet. People can still eat outside semi-comfortably. Bugs continue to invade my personal space. I have had one of the most mosquito-y summers of my life, getting bit even when my friends feet away from me do not. I went to urgent care once after a mosquito under the covers bit my leg and foot fifteen times while I slept. I am now a pro at understanding my bite life cycle. Each bite keeps feeling like it may be the last of the year, but I keep hearing the buzz.
I advertise this newsletter on my Instagram story, and I increasingly post Will prob send late today. I’m sure part of it is activity fatigue, but I have so much fun writing that I know seasonal transition and its laziness are other factors at play. Even in this week’s entry, I do not know what I want the message to be. It’s hard to get up? It’s okay to stay at home? I mean, is it really okay? I’m still figuring that out.
Our lives are so short, and we are so lucky to be young. I’ve held an I’ll sleep when I’m dead! attitude for a few seasons, but being cozy in bed does have its perks. I worry about the things I’m missing out on. What are those things, really? I have had enough experiences this summer to reflect on with the vigor of someone who studied abroad. Living here creates a snowball of plans that build on top of one another and spontaneity leading to core experiences. Part of me irrationally worries that I’ll return from hibernation in the spring and everyone will forget about me like that one spell Hermione used to erase herself from her Muggle family.
The cold highlights my insecurities. I am a self-optimizer, and I want to make every moment count. It’s not that I am unable to relax; I just fear when the relaxing continues for multiple days and I shift into a cozier routine. What am I running from when I go go go so much? My extended homebody periods have usually been my saddest with (and I’m lucky for this) the pandemic as an exception. Usually, this was because I had all the free time but none of the people to spend it with. The lack of deep connections I felt in my earlier youth continue to ring alarms for me when I, an adult surrounded by love, feel myself saying no more often.
When I lived in New Hampshire, I learned to enjoy simpler things. A nice workout, an especially good cup of coffee, a leisurely drive with a good playlist. My standards for memorable experiences changed, and a special day became the one time a month when I would get my nails done, another thing I started doing because I was bored.
Now, I am surrounded by the most cutting-edge ways to spend time. Last week, I went to a multi-hour, sober, silent dance in a warehouse to EDM-ish music for the purpose of being in touch with your body. Who does that? Me now, because I have access to it. Maybe part of me worries about the simplification of my joys because climbing out into complexity again may be harder. What does it matter if I’m doing what makes me happy?
As the trees grow orange, I grow indecisive. Tasks seem more daunting, and I crave a blanket. I do not have the energy to go to some apple orchard and take pictures of my friends with cider donuts. Days that were easy to plan now become my least favorite thing: awaiting someone’s response in a group chat or, worse, searching for the motivation to respond in a group chat.
Cozy does not have to mean lame, though. My friend Jordan came over the other night and taught a few of us how to play Settlers of Catan, which I previously assumed was a Dungeons-and-Dragons-like roleplay game. Although playing takes a few hours, the rules are much simpler. Even though I tied for last place, I had such a lovely time laughing over the game and sipping a glass of wine.
I have had more nights like these lately, and they have all been fun. My friend Cam said part of it felt like being back at college in someone’s dorm room. There are lots of this New York gentrifier playground experience that feel like college, and I often forget that I balanced crazy fratty nights with even more nights in with my roommates. Those experiences still felt substantial even if we stayed in one place the whole night.
One of my pet peeves is when a friendship can only survive off of events. To be with this person, you need to put on a whole production and outfit to meet them for, often, brunch. There always has to be a specific reason or activity for you to meet. your relationship seems to be on pause until your next quarterly checkup. I cherish a lot of these friendships, but I hated when my life used to consist solely of these. If I don’t step back soon, I’ll become that type of person for everyone around me.
I need to retool my mind to remind myself how much growth occurs in the home. I had just as much fun ordering takeout on the couch with Meera as I did going out for dinner with her this week. The people are what is important, not the place. The nights in are essential to strong friendships and relationships, which is something I seem to have forgotten in my pursuit of a good time.
It’s the isolation and creeping depression that I always fear. What if these people, places, and things are just a fluke and are not waiting for me when I’m ready to come back out? In the unlikely event this is true, they were too fragile to keep to begin with. I love and need alone time. You could make an argument that having a lazy period fights against the oppressive capitalist system, refusing to partake in consumerism and stress in favor of sustaining yourself quietly.
As long as I am not depressed, I love solitude so much that I could probably stay holed up for weeks at a time and be happy. It’s the pressures and delights of the outside world that cease this joy. Plus, depression and detachment can set in. Sometimes I wish there was another event but somehow less catastrophic than a pandemic to force me and my universe inside. I would be truly evil if I found a way to make that happen, so I’ll hold off on my world domination plans.
I always listen to my body, and she’s telling me to chill like the temperature. I just hope I come out the other side stronger. Again, the self-optimization never stops. I focus on the restoration within my rest. I need to figure out how to like the interlude after summer the same way I enjoy “Summers Over Interlude.” For now, I’ll be hitting the like button on your Instagram posts from the pumpkin patch.
10 reasons to leave the house
Fresh air. One of Earth’s simplest joys. My Pittsburgh ancestors could not relate. I’m not sure if I can, either, in warehouse and factory land, but I’ll try.
A sense of purpose. You did something today! You can respond with something other than nothing when your mom asks what you did today. You aren’t an early adolescent boy, so now you won’t have to talk like one!
Show off your outfit. I love showing my abhorrent fits to the world. For multiple days this week, I walked out with a Patriots hoodie I thrifted, gray Ivy Park sweatpants I’ve worn since high school, corporate-branded socks for software I use at work, and marble Crocs. True confidence comes from the unf*ckwithability of an indoor outfit seeing the light of day.
Interact with others (simple). Genuinely so much of my ability to be comfortable in a city comes with my non-friend interactions. I started complimenting people on their outfits out loud. I relish a lighthearted exchange with a cashier who will say Here you go, baby before handing me what I bought.
Interact with others (complex). Your friends are out there, and a reward for leaving the house is getting to learn more about their fascinating lives.
A treat awaits. This may be the biggest motivator of all. Some days, the one time I leave the house is to grab a treat and bring it home.
Movement. I do not look at my steps on my iPhone most days, but maybe you can have a small burst of 1,000 steps despite a sea of gray zeros.
Weird ads. You don’t see still ads like this from inside. There are two massive billboards near my place advertising Charli D’Amelio’s Hulu show, and the longer I walk by her family’s faces, the more uncanny they seem.
When you shower later, it won’t just be from the grossness of staying inside.
Dropping your stuff back on the table when you get home. What an amazing feeling. The validation of a lazy day you searched for has been found. Continue scrolling.
This week’s photo is from waking up Saturday morning with a mosquito bite on my eye. I proceeded to sob after this picture was taken. What the actual f! I woke up with my eye feeling a little wonky, turned over to Meera, and asked, “Is there something wrong with my eye?” I considered buying an eyepatch but instead took a less shiver-me-timbers route by joining the world with sunglasses on. After time passing and applying ice packs, I am happy to report that my eye has mostly returned to its neutral state.
Olympic Coaching
"A friend set me up on a date about a few weeks ago and it's quickly blossomed into an exciting little romance! Since things are going well, I want to try writing a proper love letter as an expression of my affection. I want to write something that's sincere but not cheesy; bold but not overwhelming; poetic but not pretentious. Simultaneously tender and electrifying. You're a writer. Any tips?
— Oscar Wilde-ly Clueless
AHHHHH!! So exciting! You are going in with the proper intentions: sincerity with tender and electrifying delivery. You already wrote in this question with thoughtfulness, so I know you’ll do great.
Spend a whole day with the intention of logging little thoughts you have about them. Inside jokes you may have, the way their hair falls on their face, how their eyes crinkle when they laugh, the cuteness of their daily coffee order, the beauty of their accomplished exhaustion when they arrive home from work…whatever you observe that makes you feel something. Keep a note of your observations and how each of them makes you feel. By the end of the day, you’ll have a whole list of letter-writing material.
Romance is found in two places: grandeur and minutiae. Volley between giant, sweeping ideas of what the future holds and teeny, simple sweetness of those little everyday moments. Go between talking about the qualities you love and how those empower you. Don’t scare them with unrealistic events or heavy commitments, but be honest with them about their importance to you. Stick with the present in phrases like I have never felt this way about anyone else, and keep the future hopeful such as I hope this is the beginning of more time together doing xyz while shying away from future definitives like You will bear my first son and name him Marcus Aurelius.
You’re writing a love letter — assuming she feels the same, you’ve already won!
Want advice from someone as unqualified but possibly more confident than you? Send in a question for Olympic Coaching.
Current fixations I want to mention
Food & Drink
The young adults of New York all have heard of Elsewhere. It’s a multi-story performance venue and club with DJs taking up shop in different parts of the building. I can happily deem this place as worth the hype. I went in the early evening to its rooftop space to see a friend of a friend’s set. The surrounding neighborhood bordering Bushwick and Maspeth, Queens is a sea of warehouses, but you can still see the Manhattan skyline from up top. There were not a lot of people upon our arrival, and people started paying more attention to the music as others walked in. The clientele is strange. Not everyone there is white, but the whiteness feels overwhelming. I think this is because the Bushwick artsy poser standbys are outnumbered by the seemingly Manhattan finance bro types. Lots of staring. The randoms I did speak to were really nice and mostly on drugs. Elsewhere has a cool system that allows you to spend all of your money by connecting your credit card to a wristband upon walking in that you tap to pay for food and drinks. I mostly stuck with canned cocktails and especially enjoyed a yuzu-related one. My main complaint was ordering three shots of tequila (he asked what kind and I said the cheapest!) and seeing the total cost being $60 after consuming. They had a taco truck on the bottom floor with great tacos and yummy chips & guac, although the chips had a kick to them. As the sun began setting, the set grew livelier with pretty lights and smoke accompanying the changes in music. I was having such a great time dancing that I was invited behind the DJ booth. This was not much of an achievement because not as many people were going hard. Many head-boppers. We left later in the night to grab food and eventually came back for a friend’s birthday. Upon my reentry, I mostly danced on the bottom floor to a different DJ’s fantastic stylings of varying dance music. I did not look at my phone once and just was carried through every song. Great, long night.
Music
I cannot stop listening to Groove Thang by Ewan McVicar. I do not know any other mixes by this DJ, but Spotify Discover gifted me a fantastic track to go hard to, however I choose to define that deed. My first intense listen was traversing through my least favorite place, Penn Station. Its driving beat and building bridge powered me through my walk. Now, I work and dance to it during intense periods at my job. I highly recommend a listen. It feels like you’re working out at a gym in the ‘80s, the neon light hitting your massive hair just so.
Internet & Pop Culture
There is a genre of TikTok videos I hate to love: an audio of a Reddit story with visuals of someone playing Minecraft. Every time I get one of these I caught my husband cheating. Here’s how I got revenge or What’s the most chilling thing someone has told you? stories I gleefully listen along to an AI voice tell me something that may or may not be true. Last night, I listened to one that genuinely haunted me about someone tripping on acid on September 11, 2001. Obviously, these three friends had no idea they were going to be tripping during an international tragedy. They got high around 11 p.m. the night before, had a ball, and re-upped in the morning. They were taking in the world around them and watching New York wake up for work on their Brooklyn rooftop. While lying and facing the sky, they heard a loud boom, which was the first plane hitting the North Tower. Reality is already questionable due to their impairment, but adding in something beyond out of the ordinary sends that into a spiral. They proceeded to watch the second plane hit and both towers eventually crumble. They heard the neighborhood around them erupt in fear. I do not know how someone emotionally recovers from an event like 9/11, and thinking about someone experiencing it on drugs is chilling. I had to take a few minutes to myself after I watched the TikTok.
Television & Maybe Movies
New Yorkers on Reddit recommend How To with John Wilson as a legendary docuseries that fully captures the city. I just watched the first episode and immediately fell in love with his storytelling style. John Wilson is an awkward, earnest guy who talks about how to do something in each episode (the first one is about making small talk). You cannot watch the show while doing something else; the visuals of weirdness around the city hilariously match with Wilson’s voiceover. People are thrown off by his strangeness but very quickly get vulnerable with him. His filming leads him to a solo trip to Cancun that happens to be during MTV’s spring break week. The antics that unfold feel less and less real but truly happen to someone as receptive to experience as Wilson is. This man, as stiff as he comes off, is the epitome of going with the flow. I have not watched more because I need space to completely focus on my TV.
Journalism & Literature
In case you didn’t know, we are on the brink of a government shutdown that has been narrowly and temporarily avoided. My colleagues do great work, and my friend Molly was just on C-SPAN this weekend talking about how the shutdown would affect federal government employees. I am not a federal worker, but I highly enjoyed listening to Molly answer questions from the world’s most geriatric viewers. If you ever want to hear what comments into most newsrooms are like, this is a great example. She keeps a legendary poker face through some outlandish questions and diatribes.
Something I Saw in the Wild
I saw decor at an outdoor bar that absolutely screamed Gentrifier Olympics. Brooklyn Beer Garden (nope, not Biergarten) is situated in peak gentrifier land around the Jefferson L stop. The space is fun enough, with little games and plenty of tables to sit and sip at. I looked up and saw a wire with fake cutouts of Converse hanging. There are a plethora of theories surrounding shoe tossing’s purpose, including drugs, gang activity, and other negative actions associated with undesirable neighborhoods. Bushwick used to be one of these neighborhoods until it was overrun with gentrifiers not unlike myself and possibly you reading this. For people like us to take a neighborhood culture and bastardize it is unfortunately par for the course in gentrified areas. These fake shoes looked so dumb, and I could not help but point them out. Instead of signaling gang activity in the way we imagine, these signal the activities of gentrifier crews around the neighborhood.