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will byers stan first human second
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izzy's playlists!
Cosimo Galluzzi
macklin celebrini has autism
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
occasionally subtle
#extradirty
if i look back, i am lost
Misplaced Lens Cap
oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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Peter Solarz
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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@bookishbutterflies
Postcards from the road, part 3
The signs for Wall Drug begin from more than 40 miles away. My friends have been teasing me about going here since California; so far, the only things I know about the place are that it’s in South Dakota, spans 70,000 feet, sells milkshake, and somewhere features a giant jackalope. Each roadside sign metes out a few more irreconcilable facts: they sell 5 cent coffee; they offer free ice water;…
Postcards from the road, part 2
At night the wind blows and blows so much it pulls one part of our tent off its stakes. For hours I lie awake in the dark and listen to the rain fall. Sand grits at my mouth. The evening before the sight of Great Sand Dunes National Park had enthralled me; now I am confronted with the harsh side of this desert in the middle of the mountains. Even from afar these dunes are determinedly…
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Postcards from the road
Because I was fast asleep for most of the drive out, so only by the time we climb Wheeler Peak do I get a sense of where we’ve come from and where we’ve arrived. Yesterday we were at sea level in the Bay Area; now we’re 3,500 meters above, balanced at the edge of Nevada and Utah, which unroll on either side, giant swathes of flat valley rolling up into the basin ranges. 10 hours across the…
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Forest Flows and Fulcrums
Every time I’m in the forests at the foothills of the Western Ghats, I breathe out deeper than I have in months. My family makes the drive through them at least once a year. We leave so early in the morning from Bangalore it barely qualifies as a day yet, and blearily drive out the city, down the highway, through Mysore. Only after I stumble into breakfast and down several successive cups of…
Here, in Patagonia
I lived Patagonia so often in the imagination before arriving. But the reality ungrounded me.
One of the many things I didn’t know before arriving was that Chilean Patagonian roads are lined with shrines. Each is no more than a meter or so tall, and they look like a kid’s drawing of a house: a rectangular block, a triangular roof drawn over it, everything out of ruddy red wood. The shrines recur every few kilometers of road in Chile. Our tour guide in Chile, Analaura, tells us they mark…
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Dear 2019 me,
You have no clue what’s going to happen. You’re wrong on so many counts I burst out laughing, even though you’re trying so hard to hedge your bets about who you’ll become in 20 weeks. The basic assumption at the core of the letter you’re writing at the end of your fall 2019 freshman orientation class to yourself at the end of your freshman year—that you’ll be in Stanford in June 2020—will fall…
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How to Tell a Story About the Sea
"In our last days, I ask people how they’ll describe the sea when people ask them about it." I'm back from the sea! And I'm not sure what to say.
In our last days, I ask people how they’ll describe the sea when people ask them about it. I ask because the question nags at me as I watch the end near: our position inches towards land when I duck into the doghouse and trace my finger through the gridded map and more boobies begin to circle the boat—clumsy and heavy until they’re not, diving with a fine-honed point into the water in a flurry of…
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Seals, Stories, and the Sea to Come
Outside, it’s a Sunday afternoon in Monterey; the ocean is the skimmed surface of a pearl. Somewhere out of sight the harbour seals are caressing their young on the beach. (more…)
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Day 15/16/etc
In my last two days in quarantine, I started taking a lot of time lapses. This is how I have always tried to remember things: I take pictures of them. A picture depends on your camera as much as writing depends on your pen. My goal with pictures is not to capture as a scene how it looked but how it was—a small prompt for my memory. So: timelapses. I can’t take credit though: I inspired by a…
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Day 13
I opened the list of the hotel’s quarantine activities yesterday for the first time. They had a list of exercises I could do in my room, museums I could walk through virtually, and parks with street-view visits. I laughed and then closed the page. If I’m being honest, apart from the once or twice a day when I press my face against the window and try to feel a little bit of humidity on my skin, I…
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Day 9
When the pandemic first “started”, March 2020, as I waited in the airport to fly back home, I scrolled through Instagram. All of my classmates were posting panicked, confused, reflective recaps of freshman year and plans for the future, though no one was quite sure whether it was the end or not, whether we would see each other in two weeks or two months (or, as it turned out, maybe two years).…
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Day 9
Exercise bike by the bed, facing the TV, tucked away so I do not trip over a pedal at night and scratch my ankle. Desk by the other side of the bed, facing the window, chair oriented such that my background is the mirror and the corner of my pillow, not my bedsheets or said exercise bike, and nothing offends on a Zoom call. And so I can look out, as I do now, at City Hall and the sea of buildings…
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Day 7-8
During my gap year I used to play a game with myself, or, if not quite a game, a sort of mental exercise in minimalism: what luxuries did I need the most? (more…)
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Day 5
I joined a Facebook group for people returning to Singapore when we booked my flight back, and wasted several evenings obsessively scrolling through the posts, looking at the images of the rooms, reading about people’s experiences. A few of my friends had quarantined already, last year or over the winter; I quizzed them extensively. I started building a sticky note on my laptop where I listed…
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Day 3
I can’t see the sunrise or sunset from my hotel room, but I can see their reflections off the buildings next to me. Both of the last two mornings, stranded in an internal body clock located approximately over the Pacific, I’ve been up to see the light change: the streak of bright colors on the windows, the buildings become beacons. It takes around five minutes for the show to vanish; then it’s…
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Day 1
A strange but very obvious fact of life that nevertheless catches me off-guard every time: as soon as I leave a place everything I did there—my many lives and heartbreaks and loves—begins to feel like a dream. Even if I can still taste it on my lips. Even with the memory of it yet wrapped around my wrist. I’m in Singapore now and while I could say being here is strange, the greater truth is that…
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MacRitchie, Raj, and the CRL
"If I hadn’t had the chance to learn about MacRitchie, would I be where I was?" Lessons from the forest, Subaraj Rajathurai, and the CRL.
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