Alyx: Like many people out there, I have spent the past week listening to Fiona Apple's new album, Fetch the Bolt Cutters, non-stop. I started listening to Fiona Apple during college when a friend's dance group did a piece to "Shadowboxer." As a companion to the album, I highly recommend Emily Nussbaum's excellent profile of Fiona Apple in The New Yorker. It's quite long, but I came away knowing more about the artist. I found the parts about her past relationships the most moving (the Negative Juicer bit, for anyone who has read it, just about destroyed me). It also includes several small anecdotes about the origins of some of the tracks on Fetch the Bolt Cutters--I love learning creative process tidbits like that.
A screenshot from the first minutes of Train to Busan
Esther: I have a habit of exhaustively comfort-rewatching a handful of shows, over and over again, and am extremely reluctant to introduce anything new into the mix. But recently, I wanted to knock a few things off my to-watch list, and I started with Train to Busan. It’s well known to most, especially horror/thriller movie buffs, and there are zombies. The action, drama, gore, and violence I expected. What I didn't foresee was crying through a good third of the movie. I won't go into any detail to avoid spoilers, but wow, emotions were felt. As funny as it feels to say you enjoy something that can make you feel so sad, I really did enjoy it. A movie that depends on its own kind of pandemic for its entire plot won't be the feel-good story you're probably looking for, but, if you're up for it and appreciate a good scary (and emotional) movie now and then– and can handle gore– give it a watch.
Caroline: I live in a creaky, old 19th century townhouse that is split into 5 units, most of which are currently unoccupied. The only neighbors left in the building are directly below me and for the past few weeks I've looked forward to running into them in the hallway. Last night we had an organized hallway happy hour, which was truly the highlight of my week. They brought out stools and set them up the bottom of my stairs, I sat on the stairs and we sipped wine and talked for a couple of hours. It did more good for me than I realized it would to socialize (safely) with actual, in-person humans. At 7pm, like every other night, the quiet of the city turned into a loud roar of support for essential workers, which we could hear even from the stairwell. I count myself lucky for sharing this weird old building in this giant, empty city with people who are so definitively neighborly.
Julianne: Are they muffins or are they cupcakes? This recipe from an old department store is a favorite of mine, and satisfied the gnawing cravings I've had for something cakey and sweet to have with my morning cup of tea. It's been hard for me to justify making an entire cake for myself but a dozen mupcake / cuffins? No problem.