oh fuck, it's [insert date/month/time/whatever] already

A window in my apartment is broken. The one at the foot of my bed, responsible for the harsh rays of 6 a.m. sunlight that lights my sleeping figure on fire, like a slow cooker. Speaking of slow cookers, I was supposed to pick one up for $15 in downtown Brooklyn, but I was lazy and lied to the nice seller that my nonexistent roommate didn't want to buy kitchenware in the midst of the pandemic. Oh yes, my window. It fully closes, but there's a gap on its right side where the stubborn frame refuses to fit its hinge. It's cold in this apartment, then it's hot, and then it's cold again.

some coronavirus songs to lose your mind to

A random song from a random Spotify playlist is always blaring through my Alexa because, well, I hate silence. Last night, I came across an Instagram story from an old friend about Covid-19 tracks on Spotify. Quarantine has apparently nourished people's creative energies, and as someone in a creative rut, I'm happy for them! DJ Snake literally made a remix from Cardi B's coronavirus "shit is getting real" video, and by my estimates, there might be hundreds of Spotify tracks with the words "Covid-19" or "coronavirus" in the title. I even found some random artist under the stage name "Coronavirus," who released a nine-track "Covid-19" album and a 16-track "Pandemic" album.

Since the quiet was deeply depressing me, I made a playlist solely of these pandemic-produced songs called "wash ur hands".

Twitter Bad

For those of us who use Twitter frequently (a decidedly terrible fate), a common observation is that Twitter always thinks we're approaching The End of the World™.

This is true even in times of extreme normalcy. A new, particularly insipid New York Times Opinion Column? End of the World. Donald Trump golfing? End of the World. A beloved bar closes down in Brooklyn? End of the World. Neera Tanden tweets something in bad faith? End of the World. Now that things are approaching something that could reasonably be considered the End of the World (a dual pandemic/climate change smackdown), Twitter is, of course, responding as Twitter does: an endlessly scrollable, bizarre mixture of grandstanding and panic.

let someone else pick the music

A year+ into working from home, I've noticed a specific restlessness that sometimes settles into my day. It usually strikes around 4:00pm, when I've listened to whatever music I liked at the beginning of the day enough times that I question whether I like any music at all. (The only exception is Strange Ranger's discography, which never, ever gets old.)

If I let this go on too long, it festers into a general sense of annoyance, and then no music can satisfy me. Everything feels distracting, or wordy, or wrong. Spotify's algorithm is no good, because it inevitably plays something that irritates me, or plays so many blandly similar songs that I feel depressed by the algorithmic state of culture in general. YouTube used to be fun for live shows or extremely obscure and scratchy recordings of Elliott Smith covering the Beatles or whatever. But now it's full of ads and it only takes a few videos before you're back on pop hits.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm weird or too picky? But that's the thing about working from home. You have total control over your environment, so it's inevitably a reflection of your inner state. When you're in an office or a co-working space or a café, there's always something to react to. When you're working from home, you can never really escape yourself and your choices.

That is why it's important to let another human being pick music for you. Preferably someone who knows how to curate music that sets a mood. For this, I recommend Radio Garden.* It's a website run by a small, independent Dutch company. You can spin a digital globe lit up with pinpoints, each representing a radio station you can tune into. If you're on the hunt for something specific, you can search for genres or other criteria.

But if you're in the mood to fuck around in a way that feels distinctly cool old internet, just spin the globe and see what you can find. That's how you can catch snippets of conversations, church services, Japanese jazz stations, pop music from all over the world. The interface reflects the janky simplicity we've gradually replaced with Squarespace's minimalist polish. On Radio Garden, Earth's continents are dull and pixelated, in fuzzy browns and tans. Outer space is a saturated royal blue, like a Microsoft paint can kicked over into infinity. And the radio stations themselves are neon green, a deliberately ugly contrast that makes them all the more alluring somehow.

My current favorite is Chillsky (which looks like it would be pronounced "chillskee" but is actually "chill sky," as an announcer periodically reminds me), a London station that specializes in lo-fi hip hop and chill beats. The music hits this perfect level of being interesting to listen to, but so completely unassuming that it never distracts from whatever task I'm trying to accomplish. (Usually, edits, sending interview requests, fact checking, writing, etc.)

It's also comforting to know that there's a person somewhere on the other end—someone who sifted through a vast library of possible options and picked stuff they think you might like. It feels good to tap along to the same beat as someone somewhere else in the world, at the same time. Less lonely. Or when lyrics occasionally break through, then recede again, confident but never especially obtrusive. Like the little wave you might give someone in the car next to you when you're stuck in traffic.

Letting a distant DJ pick your music simplifies things. It's one less choice you have to make. That can be nice when you're suddenly responsible for creating your life's structure from scratch.

And as the pandemic cuts across borders and plunges us all into roughly the same uncertainty and paranoia, it's cool to experience something international and simultaneous that's also positive and completely unrelated to the news. We all have to keep going, however we can. As long as the radio stations keep playing, it seems more possible to believe we'll all be ok.

*Here I have to admit that I did not find it myself—my husband sent it to me after the billionth time I bugged him on Slack to read my mind and send me perfect work from home music. Also he's immunocompromised so please for the love of chill hip hop beats please practice social distancing if you can.