your outie craves routine

march '25: rituals, rhythms, and religion

There’s something fascinating about how people cling to structure in ways they don’t always recognize. We create arbitrary rhythms and rely on rituals of religion, culture, routines, and even superstitions, from morning prayers to knocking on wood to avoid jinxes. Sometimes they’re product of ocd, anxiety, or something else altogether but these little stitions make us feel like the world is spinning in the right direction, reassuring the calm and scripture of reality. Something akin to the spinning top in Inception (2010).

I’ve been keeping tabs on certain things that seem to be society’s spinning tops over the last month; anchors and unjustified assurances that people hold onto, either for comfort or for control.

In this post, you’ll find notes on:

• how Severance is reviving a nostalgic era of television

• why third spaces are actually about accountability and routine

• what’s really behind manifesting and astrological predictions

  

i’m feeling lucky

Last month’s playlist received a ton of praise, I’m hoping this month’s 40 tracks will resonate the same. Lots of new releases, from Smino, Daniel Caesar, Toro y Moi and other favorites. Let me know what you think!

[Archive playlist can be found here, and in my spotify bio]

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your outie craves routine

I fondly remember the days when television wasn’t something you could devour in one sitting or binge over the weekend. It made you wait. It made you wonder, anticipate, and even gave you time to talk about it. You’d discuss whether Ted should’ve tried harder with Stella in Season 4 of HIMYM or if the polar bear on Lost was a clue or a distraction.

This was the era of watercooler TV, when a show’s cultural footprint was measured by how many people were dissecting last night’s episode the next day. Especially as we leaned into an era of Netflix, Prime, Hulu, and the likes, the experience of TV became an indulgent buffet instead of a communal ritual. To be honest, it’s liberating to be able to binge a series overnight, but that’s a solo endeavor, and often reserved for top-tier cinema series like LOTR, HP, or F&F.

But as I watch this new season of Severance, off the heels of finishing Season 2 of Silo, it feels as if the days of watercooler TV might be back. The weekly release schedule forces us to sit in curiosity, to theorize, to actually talk about the show while it’s still unfolding. And the details are bountiful! We get to analyze and nitpick every creative decision and stylistic element in the background.

I love the amount of chatter I hear in my friend circles about whether Mr. Milchick is hot or creepy (leaning towards hot, but still creepy, in a hot way) and the discourse on Twitter to find out what Chikai Bardo means metaphorically (did you notice that Gemma is the same yoga pose in one of the scenes???).

This return of appointment TV, even in streaming, suggests that people crave structure, that they want something to look forward to. We see a semblance of structure that allows for anticipation and conversation. But in truth, it’s less about television and more about rhythm and ritual, as a society. We move through time differently, syncopated, with markers that make our weeks feel distinct. And I think this collective cadence is far more important than what’s actually on screen.

i’m dylan and mr. milchick is my anxiety

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here we go again

The rumble grumble about third spaces has died down since last year and people are resuming their normal ways of pretending like the nearest Starbucks is their Cheers bar. Which is cool and fine; live and let live. But it also opens up another conversation about curating intentional third spaces, manufacturing spaces for our own fragility.

Because everyone wants to feel like they exist somewhere. and if that place that they exist is just work or an apartment with 3 other people, then it’s not good enough. And if that somewhere is a lame office in midtown or a shared apartment with three other people and a broken AC, then it’s not enough. So, we try to engineer belonging.

I’ve recently found more articles like this and this, that indicate that we’re trying too hard to curate third spaces. We’re trying so hard to pick the right tile colors, price our matchas perfectly, and play the right playlist so that people feel at home. But the point of a third space is that it’s not home. It’s not meant to be hypercurated or necessary palatable.

Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term third space in his book, The Great Good Place. Here’s his criteria:

What Makes A “Third Space”

• Accessibility: Third spaces are open and easily accessible to anyone.

• Neutral ground: Anyone can enter without an invitation, and there's no obligation to be there.

• Unstructured: People can come and go as they please.

• Conversational: Conversation is the main activity, and witty banter is common.

• Playful: The tone is playful, and there's no tension or hostility.

• Leveling effect: There's no emphasis on individual status.

• Regulars: Regulars help set the tone and mood, and attract newcomers.

• Cozy feel: The inside of a third space is wholesome and not extravagant.

• Near home or work: Ideally, a third space is within walking distance of home or work.

from Anna Pompillo’s Third Space? You Can’t Handle a Third Space

This isn’t to say that intentional design is bad; as a designer, I believe the oppsosite. A space that feels welcoming should have thought put into it. But when third spaces become curated to the point of feeling like performances, they lose what made them necessary in the first place.

The magic of a third space is that it just exists. Actually no, the magic of a third space is the people in it. Actually no, again. The magic of a third space is the ritualistic intention of gathering with the same people that just happen to exist, in a certain space, at a certain frequency, without effort or demand.

Maybe this isn’t even about third spaces anymore. Maybe this is about building that living room of like-minded people— fuuuuuuuck, I have to stop using this analogy at some point.

I honestly don’t care what your third or fourth or fifth space is. I just want to say that it’s the consistency and accountability that turns these space into community anchors.

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manifestation-tok

Listen.

I’ve been warned not to book flights during Mercury Retrograde and to expect bountiful success in my rising sign month and to manifest my intentions by writing them in my journal and saying them aloud before bed. I’ve heard it all and I’ve done as they say, but life hasn’t always gone according to these things. Life is still doing it’s own thing and I often have no control over it. I’m a realist in this sense.

But I understand, especially in this terribly difficult time in my life, that when the world feels chaotic and hopeless, these belief systems offer structure, promise, and the illusion of control. If you just visualize your goals enough, if you just act as though your dream life is already yours, if you align your intentions with Mercury’s retrograde, then maybe—maybe—things will go your way.

Where traditional religion often emphasizes surrender (to god, to fate, to destiny), manifestation flips the script. It tells you that you are the higher power. That the universe bends to your will. That if you’re not getting what you want, you’re simply not trying hard enough to believe.

I think this miiiiiight be a bit dangerous. I’ve gotten into numerous arguments about how this rewards a mindset that replaces thinking something into existence over working towards it. And the devil’s advocate response is usually something like

“Well yeah, obviously you need to keep working hard. But you should also believe”

Ok, yes, obviously. It’s not that mindset isn’t important, because confidence, optimism, and self-belief are critical to success. I just think we need to be careful with allowing manifestation and astrology-tok to become a substitute for effort or worse, snowballing into escapism.

I think the real function of these mechanisms, that people might not want to admit, is a sense of comfort. Even if not actually controlling or defining timelines of success and financial prosperity, the belief, provides comfort. Whether it’s religion, superstition, or self-help, having something to anchor to makes life feel more navigable. So I can understand why folks cling to the rhythms of Mercury Retrograde and the soothe-sayings of influencer astrologers; it’s a mechanism of comfort and the promise of control. It’s a reassurance that we’re not utterly powerless.

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link dump

• one kissa is all it takes - tokyo’s finest jazz lounges

• a carnatic interpretation of interstellar

• bits and bobs, real-time idea drop via a google doc

• a motorcycle that moves in every direction

• an article about book clubs, book bars, and book-tok

• dropbox turned their brand guidelines into a website and it’s really cool/try-hard

• let’s talk about american loneliness

• a cool new nature camera, soon to launch on kickstarter

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Life’s been shit, but I somehow found time to throw this letter together and it feels haphazard and lackluster. Tell me I’m wrong or at least lie to me if it is.

I’ll see you in a couple weeks.

have a lovely march, folks.

icymi, last week’s post was a banger:

thieves recognize thieves