a simple introduction
live, from sweatpants central
Hi Friends!
Our names are Nicole and Justine; welcome to our *new* weekly newsletter - Kopi Club.
Here in Singapore, locals can order their kopi (coffee) in a little plastic bag ‘da bao’: to go. Though it’s been weeks since either of us have indulged in conversations over a cup of coffee within 6 ft. of another human being, this humble project is our way of bringing that same sense of warmth back to you, a takeaway bag of stories that you can enjoy in your homes.
Side note: to read this on our Substack website (basically, the same thing but in a nicer font), click the title of the post!
Justine: I've been saying this a lot to my friends, but I feel like I have simultaneously too much and too little time. Too much time befriending my fridge, not enough paying service to my running shoes. Too many hours spent reminiscing about my days in Philly, and the looming fear that there will be too little of it left, when all this is over. Too much worrying, not enough deep-breathing.
I’ve been thinking and feeling in hyperbole, but I think this newsletter is a way for me to pause, to inhale, to figure out and grow comfortable with navigating this state of limbo. These past few weeks have looked like an emotional seismograph: the highest jump in cases, the lowest levels of motivation; the most self-reflection I’ve done in years, but also the least productive days. In swinging back and forth between extremities, I forget about all the moments of life that lie in between. Maybe, instead of thinking about superlatives, this newsletter is a chance for me to write about the things that are just enough.
I’m a big hugger, but in lieu of a real hug, I offer you this instead: breakfast table musings, afternoon observations and 3 AM nuggets of wisdom (though, 'wisdom' is a bold claim). Every day, I think about what I miss most and find that it’s the little things I latch on to: accidental reunions on the way to class, discovering a new neighborhood, the way the sun rose along Walnut on an early morning walk. At the time, it seemed like these were just part of the rhythm of everyday life. Maybe I’m just getting overly sentimental, but I’m realizing that there’s a special kind of beauty in banality: of a life unedited, unguarded, enjoyed as is. And while nothing can quite replace these simple pleasures, I hope that our little corner of the internet can serve as a remedy for the time being.
Nicole: Recently, I’ve been thinking of the word ‘homesick’ and what it means to me. I remember feeling deeply homesick my first year attending college in America, after the shiny novelty faded and days began to soften into routine. I missed very odd, particular bits of home: my endearingly ugly pink butterfly wallpaper, a sweet and gritty red bean bao, the long pebbly road near my home.
Now that we are forced to stay within our four-walled homes, I find it funny that the word ‘homesick’ without context could easily mean the exact opposite of what it really does: sick of home, bored at home, wondering-when-proper-life-will-return at home. Being home is simultaneously a reminder of the abundance that I have (a roof, family, water), and what I still lack the power to do (stop the numbers from rising, ease the pain). Meanwhile, circulated advice is to relax and be productive at the very same time, a task that is infuriating and impossible. The other day I read a blog post titled “At Home I am the Best and Worst Versions of Myself” and that seemed like the best way to put it.
Hopefully as you get to know us, dear readers, we will be able to share all our Best and Worst things of quarantine - but also of life. Here’s one good thing at least: the sky at sunset tonight had touches of a lovely galaxy purple. It reminded me of honey and blueberries, and I felt very at peace.
In other news, after this crisis my family will leave the childhood home I’ve known for close to a decade now. It feels like I’ve had so much time to spend with it, and suddenly no time at all. I suppose that is true for most things. At least now I have the long, slow days to say goodbye.
Speaking of slowness and reflection, this newsletter project is good for me. My fingers are a little creaky on the keyboard, but writing again feels like I’ve been underwater for a very long time and am finally coming up for air.
What this newsletter will be:
A time capsule for soon-to-be seniors (?)
Occasional detours into the world of contemporary art
An amateur cookbook
A lazy student’s book club
Reviews of milk alternatives from your favorite lactose intolerants
An outlet for puppy pictures
Photo series of life indoors (ft. cool ways to wear pajamas)
A record of favorite songs (+ obscure playlist titles)
An anthology of dad jokes
Welcome to Kopi Club, where every moment is loved for itself.
Love,
J & N
(Right now, the plan is to send out a new newsletter every weekend - yuh. Stay tuned.)