Plunging On Drone: REID #240
And what's going on with the core
SHORT:
Cooking dinner always reminds me of my grandmother… (mostly because I wait until I’m so hungry to start, so I shake while chopping vegetables — and she had Parkinson’s).
MEDIUM:
A little while back, Jess’s dad called and said, unprompted, “something’s not right with the core.”
Like… the core of the Earth.
And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
He “consulted some geologists” but also just “feels it.”
He told Jess this moments before they boarded an international flight.
We have since started to blame the core for everything:
Delayed train? Core.
Burnt toast? Core.
Phone broken? Core.
Zit? Core.
LONG:
Speaking of:
This past Sunday I found myself on a rooftop in Hudson Yards surrounded by people with bodies you only see on a rooftop in Hudson Yards.
The event was called Coffee And Chill. Which was so true. You get coffee. And then you are invited to dunk yourself into a freezing pool of ice.
Our friend from L.A.—gorgeous, glowing, very into being alive—invited us. She attends this every other weekend in LA.
This was Coffee And Chill’s first New York event. And it was, by all measurable signs, a smash hit.
When I first walked in, I panicked and said: “oh no, I cannot be here”. To which Jess replied, “you will stay, and you will have a good attitude.”
I nodded and lined up for cold brew.
Over the next hour, I was seduced into trying a free sample of peanut butter-flavored protein cottage cheese ice cream (not bad!) before being gravitationally yanked over to the Sweetgreen table, where I was handed a stack of coupons and a bag of candles shaped like vegetables. I do not understand the connection between salad and fire, but I am nevertheless excited to light up my 2 carrots and 1 avocado later this week.
There were also free massages, but I was too scared to sign up because of the way my body is.
Instead, I checked out the energy drink booth, where I received a massive swag bag of zero-calorie energy drinks (which I consumed the next morning—after another cold brew—and the combo sent me into a kind of violent mental storm1 that allowed me to bang out three pages copy for my day job in under five minutes).
According to my eyes, there were only two other gay people at the NYCC&C. Maybe three if you count the beautiful model who arrived 10 mins before it ended (but I don’t)2.
Jess and I were definitely the most regular-if-not-busted-looking people on both the gay and straight axes (no probbie!).
There was, however, a group of what I can only describe as field-hockey-looking girls who arrived mid-event and moved around the rooftop in a gaggle.
[Field-hockey-looking girls have a way of leveling-out the mood of a space. They bring a strange kind of calm, despite, (or perhaps because of), their individual energetic severity. They’re never lesbians, but are always in a medical boot and wearing a WNBA shirt. Their tattoos, if they have any, are indecipherable but thick. They have 530 industrial ear piercings, and have never lost an argument. Our world would spin into oblivion without them.]
After about an hour, Jess decided to “hop into the ice”.
I joined, even though I’m still self-conscious about the fact I chopped my tits off, and also have trauma from when I used to have to take ice baths at school when I elected to compete in collegiate springboard diving and destroyed my hamstrings (no worries).
I lasted 1 minute.
Mostly because I instantly got dizzy and was like, “I cannot pass out in an ice bucket on a rooftop in Hudson yards, that cannot happen to me because it’s something that WOULD happen to me (and maybe now than ever given everything that’s going on with the core)”.
Jess stayed in for five more minutes and was captured “plunging on drone”.
For the rest of the event, I kept dipping my hand in the pools and saying, “maybe I’ll plunge again”. But, ultimately? I chickened out.3
Maybe next time, the molten center of the earth will be more stable, and I will find the strength to submerge myself for longer.
Snack Of The Week: the little cinnamon pastry I got on the way home from C&C
C U Next Tuesday
Thank you for subscribing to this newsletter. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not [like when people slip on ice].
If this is your first time reading, pls check out the archives.
Sincerely,
Reid Pope
Bonus Zone:
Check out carousel of Da News I posted:
Or snippets of my whale presentation:
Been referring to it as “spiritual foaming”, and hope to reach it again soon (but also am scared to return)
Jess saw him take his shirt off and immediately went, “do you see—” to which I answered “yes”, to which Jess replied: “genetic lottery”, before shaking their head and walking away.
At least my fingers got a few lickety-split, successive frigid baptisms.
"maybe I'll plunge again" is a threat