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Kinfolk #19
Kinfolk Volume 19: The Adrenaline Issue
Kinfolk Issue Nineteen:
The spring edition of Kinfolk explores our relationship with adrenaline and its vital contribution to our quality of life. After all, finding joy in knuckle-whitening moments can be enlivening, not immobilizing. Whether it’s through leaping out of a plane at 14,000 feet or cutting off all our hair, or by cliff-diving into the sea or getting a tattoo, making friends with fear opens us up to a flurry of exhilaration. If we aspire to live life instead of just watch it, our days won’t be safe or stilted: The best stories start with the most unexpected moments, and these experiences normally come from confronting our comfort zones instead of taking the easy, expected or well-lit route.
The spring edition of Kinfolk explores our relationship with adrenaline and its vital contribution to our quality of life. After all, finding joy in knuckle-whitening moments can be enlivening, not immobilizing. Whether it’s through leaping out of a plane at 14,000 feet or cutting off all our hair, or by cliff-diving into the sea or getting a tattoo, making friends with fear opens us up to a flurry of exhilaration. If we aspire to live life instead of just watch it, our days won’t be safe or stilted: The best stories start with the most unexpected moments, and these experiences normally come from confronting our comfort zones instead of taking the easy, expected or well-lit route.
176 pages, Paperback
Published March 1, 2016
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December 27, 2016
I wasn't sure what I was going to think of this issue. I am not really an adrenaline junky--I'm probably the complete opposite, actually. As an example of how adventurous I tend to be, I've eaten the same thing for breakfast almost every day for the last five years and I still look forward to it every morning. What I do for fun is read, play video games, and go to restaurants. On the other hand, I picked up everything and moved to Japan, and I've talked to people who have told me they would never have had the courage to do that. So perhaps I am not giving myself enough credit, and maybe that's why I liked this game better than I thought I would.
Also, before I start, I'm noticing a lot more ads now, and all the pictures have a list of the clothes worn in them. That doesn't bother me too much, because the flat, single-color clothes so beloved of Kinfolk are about fifty percent of my wardrobe (the other 50% is contrasting shades of black!), but it was enough that I noticed it.
Like Clockwork really struck a chord with me because I'm getting older and so now I notice every tick of the clock. At least, that's the best way I can describe it. I can remember earlier years, and how it seemed like time was stretched out--sometimes the three years in Japan seem like they were longer than the five years since we moved back; sometimes the year we lived in apartment before moving to Japan seems like two or three. Maybe it's that we carry the time with us everywhere we go now, since even if we're not wearing a watch we all have phones that constantly keep perfect time and we're constantly aware of it from checking them. Or maybe it's just that with a longer life, every moment is a smaller fraction of our accumulated time.
I have to give credit for In Anxious Anticipation not so much because of the content, but because the photos put me on edge. Eggs about to smash on the floor, a concrete block about to fall on a wine glass, ink about to fall on a white shirt. It was almost too well done, because I read it twenty minutes ago but all I can remember are the pictures, emblazoned on my memory as I read out a hand to try to save the situation and realize it's only paper. Well done.
The Spicy Menu looks delicious. Last summer, my wife made watermelon curry from 50 Great Curries of India, and I was surprised by how much I liked it since I don't really like watermelon on its own. A bit of spice livens something enough immensely, so the Brussels sprouts and sorbet recipes look fantastic. The pork recipe would probably be good too, if I ate pork, but two out of three is pretty good.
On Courage seemed like it was going to go south halfway through, when it mentioned that nowadays in industrialized societies we live in circumstances where real courage is mostly not required to face spam emails or traffic jams, and I was set to dismiss it. But then it brought up oppression as a source of struggle which requires courage to overcome and I warmed up to it a lot more. Especially in 2017, when I suspect there's going to be a lot more oppression in America, a lot of people will need moral courage to survive in society. It's like water drop torture, where each instance may not be individually harmful, but the lack of control and the repetition are psychological damaging.
Of course, there's plenty of instances of oppression killing, so it's actually worse. What a lovely time to be alive.
A lot of the interviews in Kinfolk aren't of much interest to me, but I found myself surprisingly draw in to the interview with Henrik Vibskov. Maybe it's because his fashoin is mostly monochrome black, which is pretty much what I wear, or maybe it's because he does have a heartwarming tale of overcoming adversity and finding his passion despite a ton of setbacks. As unlikely as I know that that is, I still like reading tales of people managing to do it because if we don't have hope, what do we have? And that's a portrait of courage as well, going to college when most of his family hadn't graduated high school, continuing design even after being known as "the cucumber guy," studying in London despite barely speaking English when he got there...
Huh. I am getting old. I find that really inspiring instead of brushing it all off. Who would have thought that I'd outgrow cynicism?
A third of the way through I was set to give this three stars like Issue 18 and write about how Kinfolk was on the decline, but I spoke too soon. This was a good read as I completely ignore its adrenaline advice, reading it inside, on my couch, with a warm cup of tea and the cold kept outside our windows.
Also, before I start, I'm noticing a lot more ads now, and all the pictures have a list of the clothes worn in them. That doesn't bother me too much, because the flat, single-color clothes so beloved of Kinfolk are about fifty percent of my wardrobe (the other 50% is contrasting shades of black!), but it was enough that I noticed it.
Like Clockwork really struck a chord with me because I'm getting older and so now I notice every tick of the clock. At least, that's the best way I can describe it. I can remember earlier years, and how it seemed like time was stretched out--sometimes the three years in Japan seem like they were longer than the five years since we moved back; sometimes the year we lived in apartment before moving to Japan seems like two or three. Maybe it's that we carry the time with us everywhere we go now, since even if we're not wearing a watch we all have phones that constantly keep perfect time and we're constantly aware of it from checking them. Or maybe it's just that with a longer life, every moment is a smaller fraction of our accumulated time.
I have to give credit for In Anxious Anticipation not so much because of the content, but because the photos put me on edge. Eggs about to smash on the floor, a concrete block about to fall on a wine glass, ink about to fall on a white shirt. It was almost too well done, because I read it twenty minutes ago but all I can remember are the pictures, emblazoned on my memory as I read out a hand to try to save the situation and realize it's only paper. Well done.
The Spicy Menu looks delicious. Last summer, my wife made watermelon curry from 50 Great Curries of India, and I was surprised by how much I liked it since I don't really like watermelon on its own. A bit of spice livens something enough immensely, so the Brussels sprouts and sorbet recipes look fantastic. The pork recipe would probably be good too, if I ate pork, but two out of three is pretty good.
On Courage seemed like it was going to go south halfway through, when it mentioned that nowadays in industrialized societies we live in circumstances where real courage is mostly not required to face spam emails or traffic jams, and I was set to dismiss it. But then it brought up oppression as a source of struggle which requires courage to overcome and I warmed up to it a lot more. Especially in 2017, when I suspect there's going to be a lot more oppression in America, a lot of people will need moral courage to survive in society. It's like water drop torture, where each instance may not be individually harmful, but the lack of control and the repetition are psychological damaging.
Of course, there's plenty of instances of oppression killing, so it's actually worse. What a lovely time to be alive.
A lot of the interviews in Kinfolk aren't of much interest to me, but I found myself surprisingly draw in to the interview with Henrik Vibskov. Maybe it's because his fashoin is mostly monochrome black, which is pretty much what I wear, or maybe it's because he does have a heartwarming tale of overcoming adversity and finding his passion despite a ton of setbacks. As unlikely as I know that that is, I still like reading tales of people managing to do it because if we don't have hope, what do we have? And that's a portrait of courage as well, going to college when most of his family hadn't graduated high school, continuing design even after being known as "the cucumber guy," studying in London despite barely speaking English when he got there...
Huh. I am getting old. I find that really inspiring instead of brushing it all off. Who would have thought that I'd outgrow cynicism?
A third of the way through I was set to give this three stars like Issue 18 and write about how Kinfolk was on the decline, but I spoke too soon. This was a good read as I completely ignore its adrenaline advice, reading it inside, on my couch, with a warm cup of tea and the cold kept outside our windows.
Displaying 1 of 1 review