Leandra Medine's Blog, page 36
March 24, 2020
I’m Clinging to Personal Writing More Than Ever Right Now
Over the past week, I’ve felt like the digital user equivalent of a rat scavenging for crumbs on the sidewalk, sniffing around various websites in my quest for heartfelt personal content. The more days I spend cooped up in my apartment, the more I crave opportunities to immerse myself in someone else’s thoughts. I yearn (yearn!) for the first-person perspective to the extent that even just the sight of the pronoun “I” makes me sit up a little straighter at my kitchen table or on my couch… or on the floor in my bedroom where I’ve been going to sit every time Austin and I have concurrent conference calls. In May 2017, The New Yorker‘s Jia Tolentino declared the age of personal essays dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if social distancing brings them back.
I tore through Molly Fischer’s essay “A City of Bodies” in The Cut, where she traces how quickly things shifted for New Yorkers in the course of a single week, and how eerie it was to witness the swift transition from jokes about not hugging to learning the phrase “catastrophe medicine.” Even though I don’t have children, I immediately clicked on an essay about “The Heartbreaking Reality of Parenting in the Coronavirus Pandemic” by Emily McCombs, a writer I’ve followed since her tenure at xoJane. I snuck into the backend of Man Repeller to read Leandra’s essay “This Is More Than Working From Home” in draft form because I was too impatient to wait until it was up on the site.
Give me the internet of 2012 but give it to me in 2020.
These are mere morsels, though, and what I really want is a giant slice. A deluge, if you will. I saw people on Twitter penning passionate pleas for movie studios to release films like Emma on-demand early, so we could enjoy them in our cooped-up limbo, and while I’ll admit that sounds nice, my passionate plea is for the release of something else entirely: more! personal! essays! They don’t need to be perfectly composed, or visually stimulating, or tied up in a neat bow. Better, actually, if they’re somewhat messy—a true reflection of the disarray that pervades this unprecedented juncture in our human lives, something akin to diary entries or mental ticker tapes.
I suppose what I’m asking for are essentially blog posts. Give me the internet of 2012 but give it to me in 2020. Give me shower thoughts and off-the-cuff revelations. Give me comment sections. Give me headlines that don’t give a hoot about SEO. Give me the Wild West of the digital world, when throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what stuck was pretty much the prevailing modus operandi. I’m greedy for thousands of words that cater to this initiative, but I would settle for just a paragraph, as long as it attempted to comply with the standard of no-standards—heart unbuttoned, an exposition of the seemingly mundane.
It’s unnerving, to be connected by this common thread of anxiety, and to be pushed apart by it simultaneously.
Here, I’ll go first:
Never in my life have I experienced the surreal feeling of walking down the West Side Highway—or anywhere, for that matter—knowing full well that every single person who passes me is thinking about the exact same thing. It’s unnerving, to be connected by this common thread of anxiety, and to be pushed apart by it simultaneously—by the safety of an invisible radius we have tacitly agreed to maintain during our brief bouts of fresh air. It’s unnerving to be cooped up in an apartment with the person I’m supposed to be marrying in three months, wondering whether that will happen on the planned date, already engraved on our wedding bands.
It doesn’t feel like we’re spending time together, even though we are spending nothing but time together. I miss him even when we’re in the same room. Or maybe I just miss the conversations we used to have that weren’t about the indefinite clearing of our calendars, the worried texts and phone calls from our parents, the oscillations of fear and gratitude. Because in the midst of this uncertainty we are, above all, grateful—that for now our lives and our work appear capable of bending around the shape of whatever is looming.
“Okay,” I said, and it seemed like it would be, in that moment.
I quipped sarcastically last night about whether he’ll even want to marry me at the end of our shared quarantine. “Don’t joke about that,” he said, so fast the beginning of his sentence overlapped with the end of mine. The sound our words made when they met there settled over me like something soft. “Okay,” I said, and it seemed like it would be, in that moment. After we finished dinner, I stretched my legs out beneath the kitchen table whose surface I’ve memorized like my own reflection over the past five days, resting my feet on the lip of his chair.
Graphic by Lorenza Centi.
The post I’m Clinging to Personal Writing More Than Ever Right Now appeared first on Man Repeller.
How to Do Anything: Pro Tips for Selling Your Stuff Online
I’m no stranger to selling clothes. I’ve offloaded things from my closet because I’ve changed styles, or sizes, or because I needed some extra money for living expenses while working unpaid internships. From Levi’s the size of my tenth-grade torso, to plaid golfer caps from my middle-school hat phase, to wedding dresses I bought at Goodwill (some for Halloween, some for no excuse other than it felt too sad to leave them behind), there’s always something in the back of my tiny, vintage-filled closet that’s ready for a new home.
Watching my friends quarantine through the window of Instagram, I’ve seen a friend get dressed in a puffy pink ballgown for an outing to her own rooftop. I have seen sweatpants and oversized t-shirts and lots of Love Is Blind viewings. There are friends in rubber gloves delivering canned goods to needy neighbors, friends in music festival attire hosting digital parties via FaceTime, and friends in their mothers’ sweaters reading the books that have been sitting on their bedside tables.
As long as we’re sharing when we can, and social distancing to the best of our abilities, there are no right answers, no correct ways to dress for the life-altering experience of living through a pandemic, and no sufficient preparations for the undoubtedly changed lives we’ll lead when quarantines are lifted and we return to the outside world.
I don’t know what’s to come, but I do know that one of the few things that has helped me maintain a sense of control has been reorganizing my belongings, weeding through my wardrobe, editing out what no longer serves me and selling my clothes back into a circular economy. (An important acknowledgment: you are under no obligation to be productive during a pandemic. Maybe busying your hands and head with an organizational project feels good; maybe it feels burdensome. Either is fine.) If you have a plethora of clothes idly quarantined in the back of your closet and you want to build up some business acumen, here are six Ps you can use to ensure you’re getting the maximum bang for your retired attire.
#1: Make it PRETTY
Cue the Princess Diaries hat removal scene. Pamper your Lilly Pulitzer sundress/the tulle skirt you impulse purchased after the SaTC Paris finale/bejeweled Guess jeans with a full spa treatment. Give her a warm bath to wash up, hang her somewhere with sunlight to dry, and then use a handheld steamer to restore her to her sleek, unwrinkled youth.
#2 Get that PHOTOGRAPH
Now that your item is feeling like her best self, it’s time to capture her in all her glory. I just got a buzz cut and I recently downloaded Hinge, which was a fun combo. Let me just say: Bless my fairy-god photographer friends, who absolutely rallied in their efforts to capture me in a date-able state. Your job is to be that friend.
You don’t need a fancy-dancy camera—your phone will do, as long as you have great lighting. Make sure to take photos from a variety of angles and distances, so your potential buyers can get a good sense of the item. Capture the texture of the fabric. If there are any flaws—a hole, missing buttons, stain, etc.—take a photo of them next to a quarter, so that the size of the problem is clear. You want to be as honest as possible, so that your reviews will glow this hard.
Some methods:
EDITORIAL: If you’re an aspiring photographer or stylist—or just want an excuse to make cute pictures with friends—ask somebody you know to model for you. It can be a fun li’l activity to get some editorial style shots of your items, and it’ll help them sell for more.
REFLECTIONS OF YOUUU: If you’re yearning for one last moment in the sun together, model the item yourself with a good ol’-fashion mirror selfie. Try to position the mirror across from a window, so the natural light is in your favor. I use my toile curtains as a backdrop for mirror selfies, so that the item stays in focus. You can also use a shower curtain, wall, or bedsheet.
CHICK THAT CAN HANG: If you feel like the item is an independent woman who can speak for herself, use a hanger against a plain background and call it a day, like this.
#3: Choose a PLATFORM
Each selling platform has different demographics and benefits, so take stock of your goods and then decide which platform(s) best fit your needs.
ETSY: Etsy is a haven of handmade and vintage wares. For sellers, Etsy is best for search-friendly vintage clothing that can be listed with specific descriptors (ex: pleated 1950s cap-sleeved peplum linen blouse)—or for specific handmade pieces, like patchwork upcycled jackets. Etsy allows sellers to upload 10 photos per item (many more than most platforms), which is enticing for buyers willing to pay top price as long as they have all the deets.
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Cost: Etsy charges $0.20 per item listed, plus around 8% in assorted transaction and payment processing fees.
DEPOP: Depop is Etsy’s Gen Z little sister. She loves mirror selfies and probably wears Lidstar in Slip. If Etsy looks like a marketplace of curated shops, Depop looks like an Instagram feed, with a mix of vintage and modern clothing. Sellers often hashtag brands/references that have a similar aesthetic, so if you’re posting a vintage prairie dress, you could add #batsheva, #thevampireswife, #littlewomen, or #wecantallbejos. OK, that last one prob won’t help you…but as a self-proclaimed Amy, I stand by it. It’s particularly useful for super on-trend pieces—par exemple, when the Rowing Blazers moodboard had me frothing at the mouth for preppy outfits, I took to Depop to source some cheap, secondhand LL Bean rugby shirts. Depop is also a hub for influencers who want to pawn off their gifted goods, such as @PrettyLittleFawn and @SissySaintMarie.
Cost: Depop charges a 10% fee on each item you sell.
THE REALREAL: If The Devil Wears Prada were set in 2020, Andy would use The RealReal to resell the free clothes she got on her Paris trip instead of giving them to Emily. If you’re a high-fashionista ready to bid adieu to some big-name brands, this is your spot. The RealReal’s biggest draw is convenience: With other platforms, you’ll need to photograph pieces and ship packages yourself. Not so on TRR: You’ll send them your items (using free shipping labels), and they take all the photos for you, so your effort will be limited to a post office dropoff. The downside is that they set the price, which you may or may not agree with. I once sent in a dress to TRR that they ended up listing for less than I wanted—though to be fair I was impressed when customer service swiftly shipped it back to me, at my request.
Cost: All the convenience of TRR comes with a steep fee. Sellers start by paying 50% commission on each item that sells for under $200. Your commission, though, will go up the more you sell, and the more expensive your items are.
POSHMARK: If you have a box of Free People going-out tops from those extremely rare occasions when you attended a frat party in college (who me???), Poshmark is the place for you—it’s great for reselling name-brand items on the cheap. Buyers don’t expect fancy images—no-frills flatlay shots are fine—and they’re usually looking for shopping-mall brands like Madewell, J. Crew, and Lululemon.
Cost: Poshmark charges $2.95 per sale under $15, and 20% on any item over $15.
OBJECT LIMITED: Object Limited is the app version of a flea market. The full-screen vertical viewing and in-app recording make it easy for sellers to give detailed video tours of their stock. This app is full of serious shopkeepers actively collecting vintage clothing to resell it, which is why you’ll find so many gems. If you intend to flip clothing as a regular hobby, this is your place.
Cost: Object Limited charges 15% of your selling price.
SQUARESPACE: If you want to get serious about running a digital boutique, I recommend building your own spicy site with Squarespace. The upside is that you’ll have complete control over your branding—and you won’t need to deal with ever-changing policies, like the ones that have lots of people mad at Etsy. Downside: You’ll need to build your own audience—so either get going on those SEO skills or drive traffic to your site from your social media. When building my jewelry Squarespace site (step 5!!), I used vintage shops like Shop Stressed, Lucia Zolea, and Mirth Vintage as examples of highly curated boutique websites that rely on their social followings for traffic.
Cost: Squarespace fees range from $26 to $40 a month.
INSTAGRAM STORIES: This is the most nonchalant way to sell. If you’re looking to get rid of a few low-value items, throw them up on your IG story and see if any friends are interested in Venmoing you for them. This will mean combing through your DMs for responses, and you’ll need to figure out and enforce your own payment and shipping policies. Or you could propose a clothing swap if you’re interested in getting some fresh looks from followers in return!
Cost: Nada
#4: Research PRICING
Take the following into consideration when doing your pricing calculations:
Attachment: Does part of you still want to keep the item? (Price it higher!)
Label: Is it from a sought-after brand?
Long-term value: Is it a collectable?
Condition: How well has it been maintained? Are there holes or scuffs? Does it come from a smoke-free, furry-friends-free house?
Trend: Is this style currently trending?
Material: What’s it made of? Pieces made of synthetic materials like rayon or polyester are usually worth less than those in natural fibers like linen, cotton or wool.
Take some time to research prices for similar items. You want to be in that sweet spot between the lowest acceptable amount and the average price for items of a similar caliber. Remember: If it doesn’t sell right away, you can always list it again for a lower price!
#5: Shameless self-PROMOTION
There’s no shame in this game, baby! Post photos of your offers on social media (a throwback pic of you wearing them, mayhaps) and share the links widely. If you plan to add new items to your shop, start a social page separate from your personal page, so that you can maintain a consistent brand aesthetic and build a following of shoppers.
Just like the olden days of brick and mortar, customers are paying for the experience they have in your store, so carve out your corner of the internet with confidence.
#6: Make yourself PROUD
Your work doesn’t end when you make the sale. Your buyer—this stranger!—is going to be the proud new owner of something you once owned. Twenty years from now, you might be riding on a hover-bus in a faraway city and bump into someone in the hand-sewn blouse you wore to your tenth-grade picture day. You want that human to be excited to meet you!
Make it feel like a gift. Add a little treat in the package, like a scrunchie or a vintage postcard or some ribbons that can be used as shoe laces. Write a thank you note by hand. Send the package in compostable packaging. And honor the exchange you’ve just completed: You’re making space in your closet for things that feel truer to the present version of yourself! You’ve successfully exercised your ability to move on! There’s another human out there making memories with the literal fabric of your life—and that is a beautiful thing!
Photos by Cody Guilfoyle. Prop Styling by Kalen Kaminski. Featuring Simon Miller shoes, Olympia Le-Tan clutch, Derek Lam sunglasses.
The post How to Do Anything: Pro Tips for Selling Your Stuff Online appeared first on Man Repeller.
March 23, 2020
In Pursuit of Stillness: A Dispatch From Day 7 of Quarantine
At the end of every week, Abie and I play a game called Week High, Week Low. It used to be that we only did this after family vacations or exceptional instances that called for reflection, but at the end of 2019, while I was doing the millennial self-improvement thing and filling out charts about my internal happiness and external desires and dreaming up who I wanted to be the following year and so on and so forth roll-your-eyes-mine-are-rolling-too-stick-out-your-tongue-to-connote-existential-nausea-and-disgust-blech—I surmised that completing any week, point-blank, is an exceptional instance and as such, worth a review. So last night (Friday 3/20), as we used crackers to scoop the last bits of hummus out of a bowl, we played Week High, Week Low. Abie’s high was getting to the end of the week. His low was the ongoing pressure that trailed him like a demonically possessed shadow.
My high was the roll of cookie dough I picked up from my favorite coffee shop before they closed on Tuesday. My low could have been a laundry list—but that would have defeated the purpose of the exercise, so I evaluated the events of the previous week. Memories marched by, starting with the present moment punctuated by the twinge of self-consciousness that has veiled every thought, every move, every decision I’ve made since quarantine started.
What am I doing? Who wants to hear from me? Why am I sharing anything at all? When I read the news, I can almost feel myself shrinking into an insect so small even I wonder whether I’d notice if someone accidentally stepped on me. But what is this sensation—the feeling that if I don’t communicate, I will erupt. Is it frivolous? Indulgent? Is it even helpful? What is “it?” I can’t seem to get to the bottom of how I feel because every time I try, I’m interrupted by the musical sound of my kids’ knuckles tapping on my door, or the tender thumping of their feet, or the squeaking of their voices. And when that happens, I can’t keep asking the questions for long enough to be able to acknowledge that I’ve taken for granted the answers to these questions all this time, and it’s never stopped me from making stuff. I’ve had enough confidence in my recognition of the tiny incisions that sizzle within the flesh of what makes the human experience so raw.
They’re slowly losing confidence in what I promised all three of us would always be true: I am home.
But yeah, when my kids call, it’s like I have to put on a mask. God, the irony. I forget whatever I’m thinking about and pretend it’s two weeks ago. If I don’t, they sense it, and when they sense it, they act out and I know what they mean when they start to act out—when they refuse to eat, or throw themselves on the ground, or reject my pleas to build castles, or read their favorite book. They’re slowly losing confidence in what I promised all three of us would always be true: I am home. And home will always be safe. I guess what I have not been clear about is how I define safe. For the purpose of right now, the definition is stable.
And let me tell you, I do not feel stable. And this comes back to not knowing what I feel. Is that happening to you? I started 2020 revved up like one of those obnoxious cars with an extra loud engine. There were opportunities on the horizon that were so palpable I could hold them. I felt grounded in my shoes, so sure of who I am. I don’t think I’m any less sure now, but grounded? I don’t know. I feel mixed up—my hopes and expectations are jumbled together like white and colored separates swirling around the same washing machine. I’m just watching and praying the colors don’t bleed into the whites.
But maybe they need to bleed. What’s the worst that happens? I lose my favorite shirt? Okay. So what? I’ll find a new favorite shirt—maybe not now, maybe not for another year. Or two. Maybe through the pursuit of finding a new one, I’ll encounter plenty others and these shirts—the width of their collars and the lengths of their sleeves and the tapering at their waists—will serve as, I don’t know, conduits that bring me closer to finding that new favorite. I’m weighing the odds that I’ll like the new shirt more—so much so that I can’t even remember the one that got ruined all that time ago.
All of which is to say: I’m nervous as hell. I wake up every morning to the sound of an internal home alarm system. I doubt every thought that runs through my head. I know my husband is nervous too. He’s been asking to talk when we wake up in the mornings, and under regular circumstances, he prefers to limit soul-excavating communication to the office hours of 8 to 10 p.m.
Last week, I didn’t slow down. Instead, I only sped up through a growing fog that got heavier as the days went on.
I don’t know what the ripple effect of this virus is going to mean for any of us. I don’t know who is safe and who is not. I don’t know how I’m going to help and I don’t know when it will be over. But I do know one thing and it is what constituted my Week Low. I need to slow down.
Last week, I didn’t slow down. Instead, I only sped up through a growing fog that got heavier as the days went on. I tried to jump higher off the ground instead of sitting closer to it. I let a series of knee-jerk reactions comprise the tableau of Decisions I Made. I didn’t check in with my guts, and as every day passed, I got more frustrated.
I think that’s what happens when you speed up when you know you should slow down. So, yeah, I’m trying to adjust. We are all trying to adjust. And the best I think I can do for now is to change my speed. That’s it. Just promise to take my time. When I do, I can see that I’m trying to give stability to my kids, but that putting on what I have called “a mask” might actually derail the more important work of recognizing that I cannot protect them from the world, I can only give them the tools to first manage, then thrive in it.
I can see the silver lining of a bunch of white laundry getting mixed up with color.
I can see how all of this “social distancing” has made me distance from myself, too.
But I can’t really let that happen.
Yeah, I’m going to slow down. I think I have to.
How are you?
The post In Pursuit of Stillness: A Dispatch From Day 7 of Quarantine appeared first on Man Repeller.
Voilà: A Week in the Life of My Period During Self-Isolation
Haha do I have PMS, you ask? Oh, I have more than PMS. Hormonal imbalances and an IUD that can make cramps feel like someone is squeezing my insides into a fist, and the erratic condition of an unreliable period that kind of comes and goes as it pleases, making its appearance a surprise almost every time. It’s a party!!!!!
One thing I know, though, is that by the time of its arrival, I always have an audible “Ohhhhhh, that’s why I cried three times on Monday” moment. In a way, it’s comforting. It’s an answer! The intense moods are not my personal volatility—they’re biology. A fact of life. A signal that the operating system is working smoothly. Relief.
I mention all this to tee up the below diary of a week in the life of my PMS, accompanied by the stylings of the wick-ed-ly-tal-en-ted one-and-only Monica Morales. Originally, this shoot was intended to accompany a narrative more directly correlated to Man Repeller’s theme of the month (I’ll remind you it is “chaos,” which now seems sinisterly befitting) but given the events of the past two weeks, and the new meaning to chaos we’re all pretty much learning, all the programming we had, erm, programmed, was put on hold.
I mention all this to tee up the below diary of a week in the life of my PMS, rendered for your bemusement. Consider it an act of solidarity for those who empathize, accompanied by the stylings of the wick-ed-ly-tal-en-ted one-and-only Monica Morales. (And as an FYI, I’ll just add that I tend to look less like these photos, and more like if you put these looks in a snow globe and shook them violently.)
Day 1: On the Verge of Screamin’ and Have No Clue Why
10 Stories That Prove We Really Are “In This Together”
“I was stuck at the Dublin airport and had spent six hours in the customs line just to be told I couldn’t board my plane. The airline I was flying had sent all of their employees home for the day, so I was truly distraught and worried about how I would afford another ticket home. A complete stranger asked me if I needed help, and I explained my situation and how worried I was about paying for another ticket (I had already changed flights once, also I am a graduate student, so money is tight). He walked me to another airline ticket booth and bought me a direct flight home. My faith in humanity has never been more restored.” —Sedona, writing in from San Francisco
“My best friend lives in Spain with her family, and they own an ice cream shop. They had to close the shop, but they ended up donating all the ice cream they had made in preparation for the upcoming season to a homeless shelter. It makes me so happy, that even in the midst of economic uncertainty, this little local business decided to give the ice cream to people in need. It brings me some joy for sure.” —Margherita, writing in from Milan
“My 97-year-old grandmother and I live on the same street in San Francisco, exactly 18 blocks from each other. We’re currently under ‘shelter-in-place’ orders except for essential activities, including caring for the elderly. Today, I took an afternoon walk and passed by my grandma’s apartment. I called her and told her to come to the window. She peeked out from behind the blinds, and we waved at each other, from her second-floor apartment to the sidewalk. We chatted for a few minutes on the phone, all the while looking at each other and waving. As we hung up, I reminded her to wash her hands. Her response: ‘That’s what I was doing when you called!’ I finished my walk with a smile on my face.” —Caroline, writing in from San Francisco
He walked me to another airline ticket booth and bought me a direct flight home.
“I saw two women taking a brisk walk outside in my neighborhood today. They were talking cheerfully and normally, but one was walking on the sidewalk and the other on the road—maintaining a six-foot distance the whole time. It made me smile to think of friends who loved each other so much that they wanted to do something together while simultaneously protecting each other.” —Sarah, writing in from North Carolina
“We are on strict quarantine because several of my family members are immunocompromised. Cut to 6:45 pm yesterday. The doorbell rings. Our necks pivot. Was anyone expecting a visitor? We wait five minutes. Someone sees someone else walking away from the porch. We wait five minutes more. I creak open the front door and there, wrapped in cellophane, is a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers. No person in sight. Simple sunshine.” —P., writing in from Utah
“I just returned from a semester abroad in London that was cut short due to the virus. My 21st birthday was this past Monday, and while my original plan was to spend my birthday in Paris with a couple friends, I found myself instead spending my birthday at home. I spent the day in quarantine but still dressed to the proverbial nines, cooked myself an over-the-top dinner, and generally attempted to make the best of the situation regardless of the unforeseen circumstances. The highlight of my day, however, was when a friend delivered an unexpected gift at my doorstep: a tray replete with various cheeses, chocolates, crackers, bread, wine, and flowers, as well as a card suggesting that I enjoy my treats over FaceTime with her. Given the severity of this situation, I genuinely didn’t expect anyone to do anything particularly special for me, so I cannot overstate how much this act of kindness meant to me.” —Annabelle, writing in from Massachusetts
Every night at 8:00 p.m., everyone in the country goes out on their balconies or stands with their windows open and claps for the people working to keep us going.
“I’m living in Spain, where I’m working as an English assistant at an elementary school. We’ve been in lockdown since Saturday, March 14th. Every night at 8:00 p.m., everyone in the whole country goes out on their balconies or stands with their windows open and claps for all of the people working to keep us going during this scary and difficult time—all of the medical workers, sanitation workers, supermarket and pharmacy workers, etc. Every night, we clap to show our gratefulness, support, and admiration for them. It’s very beautiful and gives us hope. The first night this happened at 10:00 p.m., but the time was changed to 8:00 p.m. the next day so that children could participate, too.” —Gigi, writing in from Spain
“I saw in an Instagram Story that someone in my neighborhood in Brooklyn had drawn a picture of a rainbow and put it in their window and was encouraging other people to do the same so that kids—out for walks with their parents to pass some of what would be a school day—could have a neighborhood-wide game of eye-spy. I cracked open some colored pencils and taped my own rainbow in my dirty window, expecting it would go probably go undetected. A day later, I heard small voices in a foreign language across the street and then an audible shriek: ‘Rainbow!’ Two little kids and their mom were pointing at my rainbow and staring with giant smiles. We stood for a second, not sure how to have this interaction. And then I waved—a big, goofy, full-body, happy, finally-something-makes-sense-in-this-world kind of wave. After what was actually a minute of just waving and smiling, the little brother broke away and ran down the street—leading his little sister and mom to hopefully find a few more.” —Allie, writing in from New York
“My mom is a small business owner and rents the space where she has her hair salon. Her landlord reached out earlier this week to let my mom know she was worried about her, and that they would figure something out about rent. These are very trying times for small businesses, and acts of generosity like this can help keep them afloat.” —Nicala, writing in from Ohio
“The other day, I was scavenging for anything green in our wiped-out supermarket. An older man stood near me and exclaimed about the lack of spinach. I pointed out the remaining spring mix bag, but we both frowned disapprovingly. It looked like it had been in a tug-of-war. I shrugged, and my partner came over to put something in our basket. We moved to another part of the store. Later, I was standing in front of the canned vegetables, similarly dismayed because canned green beans were all that was left. The older man from earlier reappeared and rushed toward me. He’d found two bags of spinach and one was for me.” —Hannah, writing in from Connecticut
The post 10 Stories That Prove We Really Are “In This Together” appeared first on Man Repeller.
The MR Review of Books: Edith and Tiffany E-Mail About the Best Stuff to Read Right Now
Welcome to the Man Repeller Review of Books, where we burrow into the virtual reading nook of our website and talk books. The format is bound to shapeshift, while the objective remains the same: to broaden the horizons of our reading queues and to consider books we might not have heard of otherwise by sharing both our recommendations and modes of discovery.
On Wed, Mar 18, 6:18 PM, Edith wrote:
Hi Tif! Welcome to the Man Repeller Review of Books, e-correspondence edition. We’re both working from home, probably about 40 blocks away from each other, but it feels like we’re worlds apart. We just FaceTimed quickly to talk about a story going up on Friday, but otherwise, how are you doing?
I’m surrounded by precarious stacks of books here (I have two under my laptop right now so that I’m not crunching my neck over my screen—they are Always Home by Fanny Singer (the daughter of chef Alice Waters), which is brand new, and Hippie Modernism, a thick museum catalogue that’s giving this stack some height). Anyway, I haven’t been reading as much as I would’ve imagined so far, even though I’m craving some time offline. I’m in the middle of Sheila Heti’s Motherhood—page 132 to be exact—which I’ve found to be a really accessible book for this moment, when my brain feels super scattered otherwise. More on that later… kind of want to get further along in the book before I tell you what I think/what’s resonated with me. I should probably start underlining stuff.
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I’m feeling worried about bookstores—the ones I love in New York, like McNally Jackson, Books Are Magic, Shakespeare and Co., Three Lives & Company, Argosy, The Strand. I’m also worried about authors and publishers who had to cancel their book tours—one cancellation I heard of in particular was Emily Nemens’s The Cactus League… it’s a novel about baseball, and Nemens is the newish editor of The Paris Review.
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I thought of a mutually advantageous strategy today, which is that I have a few books I’ve been wanting to send to my family members as gifts (my mom’s birthday is coming up, and there was something that seemed up my brother’s alley that I saw at Green Apple Books in San Francisco and made a mental note of a while back). It’s kind of a win-win-win: I get ahead on buying gifts for special occasions, the bookstores make a sale, my mom and brother have something fun and new to occupy them during social distancing. (Wish I could include the names of the books in invisible ink here, like on iMessages, so that I could tell you what they are without spoiling the gifts. Sigh.)
I did buy a book this morning, off of eBay because I was having trouble finding it anywhere else—it’s Andrew Kuo’s What Me Worry. We were just talking about him. I hope it ships here before the weekend.
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In all honesty, this e-mail was just another daunting item on my to-do list today, but writing it actually made me feel so much better.
What are you reading? What kind of stuff does Ulrik like to read? What are you doing to unwind when you sign off for the night?
xo
Edith
On Thu, Mar 19, 3:42 PM, Tiffany wrote:
Hello Edith, my uptown friend!
It was so good to see you on FaceTime earlier, those and Google Hangouts have been the most social parts of my day since we’ve been WFH. Like you, I haven’t been reading as much as I’d hoped.
Haley summed it up well in her Instagram post this morning. I really identified with feeling “stressed out by all the content encouraging you to treat self-quarantine like some kind of creative/wellness retreat.” I’d pictured cleaning out my closet and cookie baking. Instead, I’ve flip-flopped from feeling anxious to guilty to trying not to kill Ulrik as we attempt to take conference calls from a tiny studio apartment at the same time.
Back to the books. I’ve been wanting to read the Sheila Heti book you mentioned, and I’m happy you reminded me about it. I just downloaded the audiobook so I can listen to it on the early morning walks I’ve been taking every day before it gets too busy outside. I’ve been using the Strava app to log my walks so they feel more like sports! It feels good to get outside, even in the rain. I’ve been taking a lot of iPhone photos on these excursions. After a few days inside, I’m already feeling deprived of new visual inputs and inspirations (outside of what can come from a screen). I’m missing my bike commute to work and looking at all the New Yorkers walking around the city every day. I’ll order that Andrew Kuo book too—I’ve been meaning to get it for a while, and we can start a two-woman book club and trade notes once my copy arrives. I could use something both funny and visually appealing more than ever right now.
Ulrik reads way more than I do, so I often inherit books after he’s finished reading them. One such book is Ling Ma’s Severance, which I was looking forward to reading, but now feels too close to home, so it will stay on my bedside table for a while. Mostly I like reading autobiographies of other women, so please let me know if you have good recommendations in this realm. I loved Art Sex Music by the artist Cosey Fanni Tutti, which was on my mind after Genesis P-Orridge passed away recently. The idea of a group of artists being branded “wreckers of civilization” by the House of Commons in the 1970s brings a smile to my face because it seems so quaint now.
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I’m currently waiting for a haul of puzzles and board games to arrive that I just ordered: Jenga, Pictionary, and this 1000-piece mushroom puzzle. Hopefully, these more wholesome activities can replace binge-watching Love Is Blind in the evenings. Are there some good board games I don’t know about? There must be! Send ideas if you have any.
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Tiffany
On Mar 19, 2020, 6:36 PM, Edith wrote:
Hey hi hello as we used to say in the old country,
A fun thing that people might not know is that you were my first real boss in my first full-time job out of college. Remember when you interviewed me?!?! So it stands that everything I do well in the workplace, I learned from you. Which reminds me: I have a photo book on my dresser right now. It’s called Sonomama Sonomama by Taishi Hirokawa, and you gave it to me for my birthday during our first professional relationship. It’s a giiiiant photo book, like 12 by 16 inches—you could eat breakfast in bed off of it. I’m going to look at that this weekend… the photos are basically big enough that it feels like watching a movie without having to look at another screen.
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I know that the “make the most out of it”/productivity pressure is on a lot of my friends’ minds right now…. having very little rhythm to your day, and then having no idea how long this will last, is one of the many reasons why that mindset feels like pushing a boulder up a hill.
Scattergories is my favorite board game, highly recommend, but take the suggestion with a grain of salt because no one will ever play with me. I learned Texas Hold ‘Em over the holiday break but that requires a group—I wonder if people are playing poker over FaceTime?! And I must confess that I’ve always dreamed of making my own art history board game….
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I haven’t read Severance yet either, though I’ve heard good things, despite it feeling maybe too topical right now. Thinking about if I’ve read any autobiographies by women lately… actually I think you’d particularly love Mumbai Scranton New York and Arbitrary Stupid Goal by Tamara Shopsin because she’s a visual person (and collaborates with her partner on projects a lot—he’s also an artist—she writes about their process a bit). Shopsin has such a distinct voice—it really feels like you can hear her speaking to you. The books are both pretty autobiographical, Mumbai a little bit more so than Arbitrary. You could test if you like one before fully committing by downloading a sample on Apple Books.
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I’m starting to feel like I’ve really over-indexed on hyping these books up—I’m basically the publicist she did not ask for—but she also just made this incredible book of offline activities with her partner, too:
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A post shared by Tamara Shopsin (@tshopsin) on Mar 19, 2020 at 9:35am PDT
Have you read Bluets by Maggie Nelson? It is not an autobiography but it is autobiographical….
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My Pocket app runneth over with stories I saved for later (I usually read a bunch on the beloved subway), though if I’m being honest, the backlog is actually more, like, three years of stories I want to catch up on. I’m saving Cat Cohen’s apartment tour on Apartment Therapy for when I need a break. (I’ve been trying to mete out my fun by instituting something like a quarantine Advent calendar, so last night I watched Cat’s Instagram Live show, which was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while—although my phone ran out of battery at some point.)
Same with this story by Harling (published this week) that I haven’t read yet—saving it for when I need a palate cleanser. There’s also this now-ancient n+1 story that I want to reread this weekend to see how it holds up—I just spent forever looking for it, forgot the title, and finally found it. It’s called “Facebook Adè” by Ida Hattemer-Higgins. And this one by Joana Avillez, published by Lucky Peach in the days when it still had a web domain… it’s one of my favorite visual essays ever. I just remembered we did yoga with their team at our old job! They were so cool.
I wonder what the audiobook experience of Motherhood is like. Does Sheila Heti read it aloud? Probably not, but I’d imagine that’d be good, kind of melodic or soothing…. Last night, I read a passage in Motherhood that feels relevant, or at least adjacent, to flattening the curve and social distancing right now. It covers how interconnected people are on a daily basis:
“After all, it’s not only my life we’re talking about. It’s Miles’s life, and the life of the child, and everyone that child will ever meet, and not meet, and whoever might come from them, and whatever they might do in the world. Who is it for me to bring all this unfolding into being? Maybe it’s no more for me to decide, than it is for Miles to decide, or my father to decide, or my country to decide. I am in the world, and whatever I do affects other lives. Then it should all be pretty loose, my fantasies for my future, for they each involve everyone else. Why should I strenuously make something come true for me, when that fate will manifest in other lives as well?”
The people who have given this book flak say that the author seems too self-involved, I guess because she’s written an entire book weighing her decision to have or not have a child. But I think this passage also stands as the proof against that critique.
I’ve always been a little scared of biking in New York (probably stems from learning here as a kid and almost getting hit by a taxi in the process). I still haven’t ever CitiBiked—adding that to my list of things I want to do at some point in the future, along with going to Burrow Bakery in Brooklyn, going to this funny carousel by Battery Park, going to Four Freedoms Park (via the Roosevelt Island Tram, which I also haven’t done before).
Lightning round of questions for you:
Do you have a favorite photo or art book?
Have you bought anything in your apartment purely for its cover?
What was the last audiobook you listened to?
Is there anything you read a long time ago that you’re eager to re-read?
Do you still reference any indie magazines like the kinds we’d buy at Mulberry Iconic for work?
xoxox
On Mar 19, 2020, 6:39 PM, Edith wrote:
Clearly I am lonely!!!
On Mar 19, 2020, 10:15 PM, Tiffany wrote:
Edith, this email feels like a hug but in word form.
I’m smiling as I think back to interviewing you on the phone. You were still at RISD and I remember thinking, “She’s the one!” I was right.
In our semi-isolation, we’re getting a little nostalgic!
Scattergories, wow! I had totally forgotten about that game. I have such fond memories of playing that with my family as a kid. I just ordered a deadstock one from eBay which has the original ’90s packaging.
I’m going to begin at the end, with your lightning round questions, and see how far I get.
Favorite photo or art book?
This question just prompted a long hunt around the house digging out all the oversized books that are at the bottom of the piles. Now I have three huge stacks on my desk.
I’d kind of forgotten about the Sonomama Sonomama book I gave to you, but it’s such a great book of portraits!
I have an old copy of Wim Wenders’s book of stills from the movie Paris, Texas. Every frame in that movie is like a painting.
The Art of Arranging Flowers by Shōzō Satō. I scored a first edition for $15 at the Strand Bookstore on Broadway. It’s pretty oversized and was printed and bound in Japan. The images are individual plates inserted into the book rather than photos printed directly on the page. All of the ikebana arrangements are beautiful and shot on fun colored backgrounds. It’s very 1960s and so joyful to flick through.
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Art:
For the past couple of years, I’ve been buying Bráulio Amado‘s annual book, which is a recap of everything he worked on the year before. As well as being a prolific artist and designer, he runs a cool community space on 6th Street, where they host everything from Italian language classes to studio art classes. Speaking of art classes, Iggy Pop Life Class is fun. The book documents the life-drawing class Turner Prize-winning artist Jeremy Deller hosted at the Brooklyn Museum. Iggy was the model, with his incredible old, wiry body that has seen so much. The book is a mixture of the life-drawing and old pictures of Iggy from the ’70s.
Josef Albers in Mexico is a reliable resource—I return to it for inspiration if I ever need to pick colors or put together a color palette for something.
I’m eagerly awaiting ToiletMartin PaperParr by Martin Parr & Maurizio Cattelan, which comes out next month.
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Have you bought anything in your apartment purely for its cover?
Double Negative by Micheal Heizer has a really beautiful cover. I’m a big fan, so it wasn’t just for the cover. But the cover sealed the deal.
What was the last audiobook you listened to?
Darling Days by iO Tillett Wright.
iO’s story is incredible. He grew up in the East Village around where I live now, so it’s nice to hear about New York back then, when the Bowery Hotel was a gas station that sold kebabs (I need to fact check this). I love when audiobooks are read by the authors, and iO has such a great voice. He does these loving impersonations of his mother and the people in his life. And to answer your question—yes, Sheila Heti does read the audiobook version of Motherhood. As you predicted, she has a very soothing voice.
If you’ve already read Darling Days, I recently binged on The Ballad of Billy Balls, the true crime podcast iO made about the death of his mother’s lover.
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Is there anything you read a long time ago that you’re eager to re-read?
I’m in the midst of re-reading Douglas Crimp’s book of essays, On the Museum’s Ruins, which I read in part while writing my thesis at university (12+ years ago!). It’s really dense and slow-going (at least for me) but when I’m in the right mood, it feels good—I can feel my brain being exercised—which can be rare as an adult, when learning slows down. It was made in collaboration with the artist Louise Lawler (one of my favorite artists) and her photographs illustrate the book.
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Do you still reference any indie magazines like the kinds we’d buy at Mulberry Iconic for work?
I loved researching all the niche sports magazines, especially the Japanese hiking magazines, with their detailed diagrams of how to pack the perfect hiking backpack. Now my magazine assortment is a little less esoteric. Deidre Dyer who runs No Man’s Land is doing a great job, and the design by Pentagram is always eye candy. I read Unconditional Magazine for personal pleasure—I think their casting and styling is always right on the money. There’s also this little indie title called Vogue Paris which is beautifully designed by Olhman and Concerti every month.
Okay, this email is long and it’s getting late, so I’m going to sign off for now.
Goodnight, Edith!
On Mar 20, 2020, 10:59 AM, Edith wrote:
I woke up this morning thinking it was Saturday (it’s Friday). I hadn’t set an alarm by accident, but my low-grade anxiety came to the rescue. Then I tried to recall the last snack I ate from the pantry yesterday and realized all the days are starting to blend together.
I FaceTimed with my two closest friends last night, and it made me unhappy to see them unhappy. It made me think especially about balance and moderation: We’re always feeling a little imbalanced, like if only we could do one thing a little better, our whole mode of being would be on-kilter, which is basically a mythology/a somewhat impossible aspiration because you can never really strike a perfect balance. Spending all of our time secluded and indoors makes it abundantly clear how much our happiness operates in direct correlation to moderation.
On the topic of Motherhood, I’ve also been thinking about how often we consider the “worst-case scenario” when making big decisions. I’m not an impulsive decision-maker by any means, but this really casts into relief how little I consider “the worst that could happen” when I weigh options. I’ve always thought having two kids might be good (God willing), and this experience confirms my notion that having more than two probably isn’t right for me, because knowing now that some kind of future quarantine is a possibility makes having more than two kids seem so, so challenging.
After I finish Motherhood, I’m planning to read this book I picked up from the library on one of the last days it was open: Sleeveless (Fashion, Image, Media, New York 2011–2019) by Natasha Stagg. “Composed of essays and stories commissioned by fashion, art, and culture magazines, Sleeveless is a scathing and sensitive report from New York in the 2010s.” Uncanny Valley by Anna Wiener is also high on my list, although I think my copy was shipped to the office….
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While this is not the Man Repeller Review of Television/the Moving Image… I feel like it’s worth noting that I’ve been stockpiling a bunch of shows over the year for a dull moment: pretty much all of Barry, Big Little Lies, and the most recent seasons of The Crown and Curb. All of Sex and the City after season one is uncharted territory, too. I’ve been meaning to see if this comedy special by Dan Soder is funny—he’s the cute guy on Billions (also wondering if Showtime will release the next season of Billions early). And I’m like an hour into the three-hour Ingmar Bergman movie Scenes From a Marriage on Criterion, and I watched the first 20 minutes of Jojo Rabbit a few weekends ago (would like to pick up where I left off), and there are two Peter Bogdanovich movies I haven’t seen before on Criterion right now (The Last Picture Show reigns supreme as my favorite movie ever). That’s how my immediate watch list is shaping up.
Also, I just noticed that Brigitte Lacombe took the photos for the Fanny Singer book I mentioned earlier—I’ve been eyeing this book of her portraiture for The New York Times for months, and if not now, then when, right?
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Another thing: Someone recommended this podcast during my Instagram takeover this week.
I have a slew of other book-related podcasts bookmarked (like The Maris Review) but maybe if I save them for another time, we can run another one of these stories next week??
Hasta la pasta!
Might we suggest a few independent booksellers to browse online? Here are a few crowd favorites across cities—
In New York: McNally Jackson, Argosy Book Store, Books Are Magic, Bluestockings, Three Lives & Company, Greenlight, Book Culture, Center for Fiction, Word, and The Strand. In San Francisco: Green Apple Books. In Nashville: Parnassus. In Austin: Book People (with free shipping). In Ann Arbor: Literati (with $1 shipping!). In Telluride: Between the Covers. In Chapel Hill: Epilogue Books. In London: Second Shelf. In Seattle: Third Place Books (with free shipping). In Washington DC: Kramerbooks (which is even Postmating books!) and Politics and Prose (free shipping). In Boston: Brookline Booksmith.
The post The MR Review of Books: Edith and Tiffany E-Mail About the Best Stuff to Read Right Now appeared first on Man Repeller.
March 20, 2020
Trust Me, Try It: A Milk Frother to Elevate Our Attempts at a Morning Routine
Growing up my mum had a true obsession with kitchen gadgets. To this day I still have vivid memories of being dragged around John Lewis for hours on end specifically through the kitchenware sections. Isn’t this miniature frying pan so cute for one egg? We’re a family of 4, we’re never making just one egg. Look how non-stick this pan is! Huh? Aren’t these hot chocolate mugs so fun? Sure, I can get on board with that one. It goes on for another 10 years. It may have taken some time but I, of recent, have too caught the kitchen gadget bug. A few of my own prized culinary possessions now include an avocado scooper that both scoops and slices, a peeler that not only peels but spirilizes and the all-mighty nutribullet that needs no introduction. But my most recent acquisition has to be my favorite yet, it’s a milk frother.
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It all started a couple months ago during a Team MR Trivia Night where the winning team had first dibs on a spread of prizes. From the get-go, I had my eyes on the milk frother. I’m not sure why—it just looked fun. My all-star team—namely Mallory, Amalie, and Gyan—were leading the charge. Did you know a cow has four stomachs? My team did!
The frother was well in my sights until the last round, when everyone had a chance to gamble all their points on one question “Is today Matthew McConaughey’s birthday?” it was (November 4th if you were wondering) and we got it right, but our bet was too conservative. We lost it all and came second. Haley (who was on the winning team and therefore got to pick prizes first) also wanted the milk frother but graciously left it for me to take, given how visibly (and audibly) excited about it I had been. What a gem. If I remember correctly she opted for an entire bag of Lucky Charm marshmallows instead. But Haley, text me back so I can confirm!
So now I had it in my possession and best believe I let it sit in a drawer in my kitchen for a good few months without use. But this month, as I’ve found myself increasingly indoors, it has really sprung into action. I started taking this powered prebiotic from The Nue Co (which btw has really transformed my stomach, but that’s a story for another day) and saw they recommended ordering a steamed milk at coffee shops and mixing it in to make a latte of sorts. Why not try it myself at home, I thought? Oat milk went in the microwave for a minute, in goes a teaspoon of the prebiotic powder with some light amber honey (whatever tickles your fancy) and out comes the milk frother. In seconds I had a delicious, dare I say extremely professional, prebiotic oat milk latte. Gosh I want to roll my eyes at myself reading that back.
There’s something extremely luxurious about frothed milk. It truly elevates your warm beverage of choice with just the touch of a button! It’s the barista feel without handing over $5+. And why stop at frothing your milk or dairy alternatives? Why not froth your eggs for a fluffy omelette? Froth your salad dressings, your face creams, your cushions! I mean the things to froth are truly endless and there’s such minimal cleaning involved it doesn’t even need to be mentioned.
So there you have it, my ode to a milk frother. My final take is that while everything is weird and uncertain, adding the littlest bit of decadence to your morning beverage, achieved with the touch of a button, is something we all deserve right now. I look forward to hearing what concoctions you come up with!
The post Trust Me, Try It: A Milk Frother to Elevate Our Attempts at a Morning Routine appeared first on Man Repeller.
Who’s Still Swiping on the Dating Apps?
Are we more likely to fall in love or out of love in the time of self-quarantine? Curious about the inner-workings of dating apps in a moment of widespread social distancing, I lifted the hood of the thing and was surprised by how much I found percolating inside. Thanks to a robust survey conducted with MR community members between 20 and 40, and an inside job DMing people interview questions on my app of choice, I gathered some intel: everything ranging from surefire pick-up lines to quarantine dating tactics and musings on how the state of dating might evolve in the near future. Keep scrolling to take a spin through the intestines of what virtual romance looks like right now.
“Because we can’t go anywhere, and I don’t want to commit to endless weeks of speaking to a stranger without the possibility of meeting up!”
“I have a pretty good batch of matches I’ve taken off-app.”
“Because my past hookups are sliding into my Instagram DMs.”
“Social distancing makes it seem more like an annoyance than an actual option right now.”
“I’m not leaving my self-isolated bubble to go meet anyone these days, so why even bother chatting online?”
“It feels odd. I look when I get a like, but I’m not using apps for text buddies.”
“I actually met someone I really really like (eep!) the Sunday before everything started shutting down. I wasn’t going to date with a global pandemic, but then I met an amazing man right when the panic in the U.S. ramped up, and, well, now I’m trying to figure out my next steps.”
“I let my matches start a conversation.”
“How’re you spending your quaran-time?”
“Pancakes or waffles? (It’s quite the conversation starter. And everyone has strong breakfast carb opinions.)”
“Accepting FaceTime dates only.”
“Show me your grocery list.”
“Generally on Tinder and Hinge, I let guys do the legwork. On Bumble, I’ve been just waving hello or directly asking how their quarantine is going.”
“Nothing gimmicky is needed at this time, I feel.”
“Can’t spell quarantine without u,r,a,q,t, how’s it going?”
“What is one thing you wish you could be doing right now?”
“You honestly don’t need one, it seems like everyone just wants to chat with another human.”
“I usually wait for the other person to start right now. It feels weird to ask what’s up or how are you?”
“I swipe but can’t really start a chat right now.”
“Same as usual—just something from their profile because I don’t want to look like I’m catastrophizing—although I definitely am!”
“I normally just say I love you and see how that goes (usually quite well).”
“Men wanting to go on socially responsible walks!!! I had a Zoom date last night.”
“Haven’t matched with anyone new since this whole fiasco.”
“25% ‘fwb?’, 50% half-assed greeting without any follow-up, 24% weird(!) pickup lines/compliments, and 1% interested and engaged questions!”
“Literally since the U.K. finally went into some form of lockdown, every match is messaging. In times of boredom, men turn to Hinge.”
“A lot of references to quarantining together, or offers to do online classes for each other.”
“Positive ones! Connections are being made and people have more time to slow down and connect. Found much more intentional connections are happening right now through Bumble, at least!”
“Invitations to co-quarantine or escape into nature. Survivalist dates.”
“People are down for UberEats, wine and a video chat! Also, isolation clearly has some people feeling frisky and not afraid to be candid about it…”
“Honestly I think people are having more fun chatting right now. People seem less rushed and more interested in just going back and forth.”
“People are honestly checking in to see if I’m okay and how I’m doing. I’ve had people offer to get supplies or do a grocery run for me.”
“Much more conversationally heavy ones than normal.”
“The absolute WORST covid-19 puns. Definitely stolen from viral tweets.”
“I like ur dog.”
“Making pizza.”
“Confinement and the world situation.”
“I’ve been video chatting with a few matches on Bumble to check in on them during this time. Even though we have never met personally, it’s important to stay connected with others. It’s been really helping with loneliness!”
“We talk a lot about fashion! Still getting dressed for working-from-home, haha.”
“Horticulture, Schitt’s Creek, sweet potato fries, Lord of the Rings, and of course, coronavirus.”
“Mainly how weird it is to move back in with parents suddenly after being in college all year.”
“Netflix documentaries, social distancing, and losing our jobs.”
“Netflix shows to watch, the internet right now, bucket lists.”
“How we’re passing the time, likes/dislikes, sending covid memes, planning out future dates, dystopia dating.”
“Mostly the present moment. Some talk of fun date ideas for the future when we can leave the house again.”
“A lot of daily recaps. A lot of recipe- and music-sharing.”
“Sex and viruses.”
“WFH, daily life, vague plans of what we want to do when we can ‘finally meet.’ Someone asked me what my favorite dinosaur was the other day, that snowballed into an interesting conversation.”
“Food we’re craving, restaurants/wine recommendations after all the quarantine is over. People are having regrets on not trying/going to that place you’ve had on your list for months.”
“How coronavirus is impacting them, how it’s going to change dating, what we will miss when coronavirus lockdown is over, the joy of a hug, couple envy.”
“Some TikTokers.”
“No. Do people really do that? Does it work?”
“Nah. I’ve never been good at that.”
“F*ckboi from my hometown.”
“Slid into an old high school classmate’s DMs. He responded for a while, then left me on read.”
“I haven’t yet…talk to me on quarantine week 3.”
“Old boyfriends/crushes. Probably (definitely) a bad idea.”
“No, but have had several old flames resurface.”
“Not really, except people who put their Instagram handles on the ‘Love is Quarantine’ spreadsheet.”
“Not really, but I’m receiving a couple.”
“Yes. If you don’t shoot your shot, then you’re only going to end up with guys that like you, not guys you like.”
“The other day I messaged the band Haim but only because I was heartbroken I couldn’t go to their secret deli tour stop in D.C.”
“Until we run out of things to say.”
“As long as my boredom lasts.”
“Undecided but intrigued to see.”
“Who knows! Some want to wife me once we exit the crisis.”
“Days.”
“Until we (finally) go on a date.”
“For a while! I think video chat can actually be amazing!”
“Until they turn out to be douches?”
“Until I get bored?”
“As long as we keep having good conversations.”
“Until this whole ordeal is over.”
“As long as they last! Some seem circumstantial, and others are deeper and potentially longer.”
“Up to 2 weeks, then the conversation dies (them’s the rules).”
“No idea. It’s just been a nice distraction.”
“The eternal mystery.”
“As
What a Fucking Time to Be Alive: A Dispatch from Day 5 of Quarantine
I guess I curse more when I’m in isolation. Consider this the third in what is becoming a string of real-time recaps from the dikes of quarantine. By the time you read this, I think it’s going to be Friday, but I’m writing it from Thursday morning. Currently, it’s 9:14am. I’ve taken a shower, I’ve fired off at least 30 frantic text messages to 6 people, one of which was to a co-worker—the rest are friends. I’ve consumed a slice of banana bread from a loaf I made yesterday with Madelaur (it’s not very good, but it’s mine, so I like it) and set a schedule for the day ahead. If all goes according to plan, I’ll spend the next—
Now it’s 1:18pm. I have insofar as completed no part of the schedule that I laid out for today, but I did take Laura to the doctor—she’s got an ear infection; the ten-block walk was like the shot of espresso with hope-dust mixed in that I knew I wanted but didn’t realize how badly I needed. Have you been able to inhale fresh air today? I hope you have been.
She’s okay, for what it’s worth. She meaning Laura. I’m going to sautee kale soon—using a recipe from NYT Cooking that calls for red wine vinegar and vegetable stock. Earlier this week I learned that if you heat coconut aminos in a pan, they reduce to this syrup-y, teriyaki-style glaze. I’ll probably cover the kale in the glaze.
Today is different from yesterday which different from the day before. I think that’s what it’s like when you’re in survival mode, right? I mention it because last night when I was FaceTiming with my mom, she said something like, “To be perfectly honest, I feel more in my element than usual. I’m a survivor.” It clicked for me as she was saying it that what I have been calling her “refugee mentality” for a very long time is actually the sensation of living in a heightened state of survival mode where no time exists beyond the time that’s right in front of you. There is no planning beyond the one hour, 12 hours—if you’re lucky, 24 hours ahead because there’s not enough information to think further out. All you have and all you know is what confronts you at the moment. Trying to prepare for any period beyond that frame is futile; too much is changing and it’s happening quickly. You know? I realize I’m most comfortable in this heightened state of paradoxically routine panic and chaos, too. It can make me feel like a prisoner of my own life when there is no reason to panic. Abie does not maintain this quality—he thinks years ahead of me. That’s one of the primary things that attracted me to him, this sense of psychological freedom I could feel emanating from him. I’ve never been able to identify that before this moment.
I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, by the way. My reactions to the days fluctuate. Some are clouded by paralyzing energy that is dark and depleting—it puts a question mark at the end of every thought I have and adds a veil of desperation to my every pursuit. Others are harnessed by a spirited force of strength that can feel so unflinching, that enables my sharing the professedly trivial slices slice of current life, still charmed by all accounts, I am acutely aware. The reactions are incredibly inconsistent but deeply visceral. And when I respond to anything this viscerally, the only cure I know is word vomit. Word vomit and the feedback loop I’ve built around these bouts of vomit.
I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to the feedback—the way in which a “me too!” or piece of constructive criticism or word of wisdom ties the visceral experience up in some kind of knot that allows me to put it on a shelf and observe it preciously from a distance as if something I’ve achieved. Does that make any sense? Now it’s 2:02pm. Laura just started crying again. I am supposed to enter a Google hangout meeting. My left eye is twitching, the top half of my back is aching and I’m pretty sure the coffee cup that has been sitting next to my bed since 9:14am this morning is starting to frost and, fuck, I forgot the kale.
Ttytom.
Graphics by Lorenza Centi.
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The post What a Fucking Time to Be Alive: A Dispatch from Day 5 of Quarantine appeared first on Man Repeller.
March 19, 2020
Voice Notes Are About to Be More Useful Than Ever: Here’s How to Send a Very Good One
After three years of living a 24-hour flight away from most of my closest friends, voice notes have become my number one love language. Crafting a good one has become my favorite sharable skill.
It was my friend Gina—a former colleague and now an extremely close friend—who first sent me a voice note over Facebook. We hadn’t spoken much in the year or so since I’d left Australia for New York, until one day I opened my phone to find a stream of voice messages. It was both the most unexpected and most delightful turning point in that friendship—in any of my friendships. Since then we’ve gone through periods of daily voice notes and others when we’ll take a few weeks to reply. Sometimes one of us will send a short, three-minute update. Other times, I’ll settle into my couch to prepare for a 45-minute monologue of life updates. These long and delightfully rambling voice messages are my favorite: an exploration into a friend’s stream of consciousness.
Since my introduction to voice notes, I’ve recommended them to as many people as possible. By now, most of my friends have sent or received a voice note—over Facebook, WhatsApp, iMessage, whatever—which is something that brings me great joy. However, not all voice notes are created equal. These are my top tips for making yours a treat for the ears.
1. Start each message by setting the scene
Most of my voice notes start like this: “Hi, I’m just walking home from *insert place* and it’s *insert weather*.” People may say that talking about the weather is boring, but according to me, those people are wrong. Go on, build out that environment: Hearing that someone is sitting in the sunniest corner of their apartment or lying on their bed helps make it feel like you’re where you should be—in the same space, together.
2. Even if you feel awkward, embarrassed, or weird—don’t say it!
No offense to *checks voice notes* almost all of my friends, but the worst way to start a voice note is by expressing how awkward you feel sending a voice note. Feel your feelings, sure, but don’t let them ruin a message. Saying you feel weird isn’t going to make your first message feel any less weird, so bite your tongue and get into the juicy stuff.
3. Talk about one thing you did that day before you ask any general questions
The magic of the note lies in the fact that it’s shorter than a phone call, but easier to produce than a text. But—like phone calls and text messages—they can fall victim to uninspiring small talk and an endless back and forth of “How are you?” and “How’s work?” until one person stops replying. The voice note secret sauce is sharing something fun you did that day. What did you see out the window this morning? (Two older people having a sweet conversation at least eight feet apart!) What did you cook? (Banana bread!) What incredibly weird thing did you dream about last night? (That I was going to every library in the city trying to find the first Harry Potter book!) See? Delightful!
4. Don’t feel the pressure to have a formal sign-off
I normally end my voice notes by screaming, Annnnyyywayyyy BYE! until my one-minute Facebook time limit runs out. (I’m not recommending you take this approach, but I’m also not not recommending it.) Ending a voice note with a very serious sign-off doesn’t always feel right, especially when you’re trying to get into a habit of sending them regularly. So, have fun with it! End on a dramatic pause! Sing a song! Read a haiku aloud! Or, you know, just say “Talk soon” and end that sucker right there before you have time to overthink it.
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