10.22.21 I open the window next to my desk and am immediately greeted by the rolling sound of mid-day traffic, not unlike the ocean waves that are breaking 15 miles to the west. The cars stop at a red light, I hear Lana Del Ray’s voice crooning over the whirr of the quasi-urban life that is LA — the incessant drone of traffic, dogs barking, car doors slamming, birds chirping. New York buzzes, LA hums. Lana’s new album was released not even 24 hours ago, and here I am, enjoying this private moment of first listen with some stranger who I now feel a vulnerable, honest connection with. I smile to myself as I remember the week Taylor Swift’s album ‘folklore’ came out - I was still in New York, it was that stage in the pandemic that we thought was mid-stage but actually ended up just being a longer addendum to the beginning (July 2020), we were beginning to slowly slowly dip our toes into the very surface of life again (going for longer walks outside, maybe masking up and seeing close friends & family, slowly relinquishing the fear that every human we met in the narrow pre-war building hallways was a potential deadly threat). I remember walking down the five flights of stairs from my apartment to the street and hearing songs from that album being played behind doors on multiple floors. Two roommates blasting ‘august’ and laughing, one of them loudly asking the other if she could borrow her flatiron, a softer hum of ‘cardigan’ seeping out from under the welcome mat in front of 202B. All of us privately listening, together. And now I think about how I don’t get the entire concept of LA, yet I’m finding my breath taken away
On LA & Lana Del Ray
On LA & Lana Del Ray
On LA & Lana Del Ray
10.22.21 I open the window next to my desk and am immediately greeted by the rolling sound of mid-day traffic, not unlike the ocean waves that are breaking 15 miles to the west. The cars stop at a red light, I hear Lana Del Ray’s voice crooning over the whirr of the quasi-urban life that is LA — the incessant drone of traffic, dogs barking, car doors slamming, birds chirping. New York buzzes, LA hums. Lana’s new album was released not even 24 hours ago, and here I am, enjoying this private moment of first listen with some stranger who I now feel a vulnerable, honest connection with. I smile to myself as I remember the week Taylor Swift’s album ‘folklore’ came out - I was still in New York, it was that stage in the pandemic that we thought was mid-stage but actually ended up just being a longer addendum to the beginning (July 2020), we were beginning to slowly slowly dip our toes into the very surface of life again (going for longer walks outside, maybe masking up and seeing close friends & family, slowly relinquishing the fear that every human we met in the narrow pre-war building hallways was a potential deadly threat). I remember walking down the five flights of stairs from my apartment to the street and hearing songs from that album being played behind doors on multiple floors. Two roommates blasting ‘august’ and laughing, one of them loudly asking the other if she could borrow her flatiron, a softer hum of ‘cardigan’ seeping out from under the welcome mat in front of 202B. All of us privately listening, together. And now I think about how I don’t get the entire concept of LA, yet I’m finding my breath taken away