2 AM, Tuesday, halfway done with my senior year of college. I was anxiously contemplating what I would do tomorrow, and then this summer, and then next year, and then for the rest of my life. Then came panic, and, shortly following that, a flashback.
I think I was the first person unassociated with Swimming Upstream to see the production. Ever. This seems like pretty heady stuff as I sit in warm darkness waiting for the cast’s final run-through to begin. I feel like an … Read More
“No one thinks of Spotify as a means to immortality. But so long as the platform exists, a sort of permanence is granted. Our long finished playlists will become fuel for Discover Weekly long after we’re gone. We become eternal tastemakers, unconsciously curating mixtapes for future listeners.”
Fine Hall: Barad-dûr, but it’s nice at night. After dinner you and I go to the third floor lounge to study. We look at the pictures of graduate students. 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994, 1995. They all have funny hair but we agree that their glasses are stylish and 1991 wore the best jeans. We sit back down to do work but after five minutes we’re restless again in the room with brown carpeting, brown walls, and brown ceilings. “Do you want to check out the top floor?” I ask. We go up and try the door. Locked. We settle for the next floor down, and walk to the corners where we look out of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. There are seven thousand students on campus but we don’t see anybody. The corner alcoves fit just two people.
