"Who is Lorde?"

And other things that recently sent me back in time.

“Wait, who’s Lorde?” The earnest question came from a friend of a friend who is my exact age. Her explanation (that she “doesn’t know pop culture”) didn’t even begin to satisfy my curiosity. Like, sure, I never recognize celebrities on the street, but it’s an extra layer of existing outside the zeitgeist to not know Lorde’s name—she has hits! And they’re played at the grocery store!

But hey, we’re all on our own journey. My journey, following the Lorde comment, which came at the tail end of a New England road trip through the stomping grounds of my youth, sent me to a deeply nostalgic place from which I have yet to emerge.

It is September, after all, and back-to-school season is hard-coded into my brain as a time to take stock of where I am. Even though I wouldn’t describe myself as a huge Lorde fan, where I am is hitting her debut album, Pure Heroin (2013), pretty hard.

I imagine my 2013 college self easily:

That a cappella group just sang “Royals” at their jam. I’m walking to a party in the dark, wearing lace-up boots, carrying cheap vodka in a water bottle, and ready to flirt with someone I may or may not even like. I’m doin' this for the thrill of it, killin' it / Never not chasin' the million things I want. I sauté mushrooms for the first time in my life and set off the fire alarm in our building. When the angry texts come, I lie.

So this was my headspace when I recently dropped into a writing group I’d heard about and found that everyone there was probably between 6 and 11 years my junior.

We gathered in one member’s first-ever New York apartment, and, over the course of the evening, I heard about their nascent careers, their hungry propulsion toward certain creative goals, their run-ins with creepy men online, and their particular rhythms in this city that promises you so much and takes just as much from you.

They were all beautiful writers.

On my way home, I passed an office building where I used to work and a bar I remember spending one very long night in (though I don’t remember why). On the train, I texted my first roommate in New York (she’s in Chicago now) to say hi and thanks.

I’m nearing a decade in New York, which means I’ve become myself 100 times here. I’ve imagined countless futures. I’ve spun a fast revolving door and seen who’s still around when the spinning stops. I have enough past to feel nostalgic about, places to return to, and I’m so grateful.

The Prompt

Pick an album that was either popular and/or important to you in your earlyish twenties. Ideally, this lines up with a distinct period: school, a move, a new chapter of some kind. If you’re reading this and still in your early twenties, then pick an album from early adolescence.

Rinse that album for a day or so.

Write whatever arises from memory during or after listening—any fragments. Use at least one lyric verbatim in your piece.

Love,

Kate