The Sunday Currently no. 1


Finally, I have gone back to reading books—the physical paperback lugged inside my bag—somewhat regularly, or at least I’ve fully committed to doing so again. These days I am reading To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. Here is an extract from the beginning that I fell in love with, describing Mrs. Ramsay: “… she must interrupt for a moment, as they passed the tennis lawn, to ask Mr. Carmichael, who was basking with his yellow cat’s eyes ajar, so that like a cat’s they seemed to reflect the branches moving or the clouds passing, but to give no inkling of any inner thoughts or emotion whatsoever, if he wanted anything.” Also, how the digital economy is making us gleaners again.


It would seem that I am again, that I am writing for my own—enjoying and exploring language and the issues and ideas that mean the most to me—which I’ve not felt like I’ve really done ever before. I admit that my writing again happened due to my reading again—primarily because of Woolf, as well as rereading sections from Plainwater by Anne Carson—and I’m happy about this and feel good about where I am right now, as a writer.


I hadn’t been listening to a lot of new(er) music until recently upgrading my Spotify to premium and splurging on some award-winning speakers (something I get from my dad) from Harmon/Kardon. A list of songs I’ve been enjoying: “Indian Summer” by Jai Wolf. “Queen of Peace” by Florence and the Machine. “Roses” by The Chainsmokers and ROZES. “Change of Heart” by TOPS. “All My Friends” by Snakehips featuring Tinashe and Chance the Rapper. A cover of Tamia’s “So Into You” by Childish Gambino. “Sorry” by Justin Bieber —yes.


For a long time now, I’ve been thinking through this hefty new writing project, tentatively entitled “Political History.” It’s an attempt, in my mind, to roughly map out what motivates people and their political affiliations, what it takes to truly understand the views of others and show compassion, how we care. Many people on social media, for example, call out what they consider ill views, they criticize privilege and back in ways that a lot of us, frankly, would have already seen before. Many people are rarely capable of changing our minds, and still “there is no neat us and them, pale and dark, east and west, except in the lousy stories people tell.” So far, this is the first sentence: “I want to have a conversation about politics with my mother—the way prose, occasionally, might crystallize into a form of art.”

Wishing, Hoping, Wanting, Needing

To know what to do with my life—as most confused young people in their early twenties who are fresh out of college would like to know. Terms like “the real world” and “the future” and “making a living” and “something worthwhile” have never been more real to me. Nonetheless 23 is a good age, I think.


Traces from a cup of coffee I had a while ago.


A gray cotton t-shirt, a navy blue stole shawl from Uniqlo.


The latest album from Florence and the Machine, How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful. Souvenirs from The British Museum and The Keats House that my managing director brought back from her trip to London. My mother’s birthday gift, the Longchamp Le Pliage Néo in Opera. P.S. Why isn’t there an option here for “Watching”? Because How to Get Away with Murder has been blowing my mind and I cannot wait for the #WhoShotAnnalise revelation in the winter finale!


Secure with myself. And: I know it’s not Sunday yet, but hey, I just felt like stealing this series off the Internet and starting it on my blog.



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