Todd Cooke

I am a marathon runner My legs are sore And anxious to see What I’m running for… 4.18.26

This is just to say… #poetry

“And so, [we] find it well to come For deeper rest to this still room, For here the habit of the soul Feels less the outer world’s control: The strength of mutual purpose pleads More earnestly our common needs: And from the silence multiplied By these still forms on either side, The world that time and sense have known Falls off and leaves us […] alone.” -John Greenleaf Whittier — Credits Photos by @audrey__eliza (@oliveeye.photography ) Tux by @sidmashburn , paired with my grandfather’s vintage Brooks Brothers Tux Trousers, and a peacock vest handmade by mother. Vintage Silk Velvet Devoré Burnout Wedding Dress c. 1930s

@davep_makingtime has the answer. #PLURT is the answer. @makingtimeisrad September 18-20. Billboard placement by @dahsar Graphic design by @llannddau

When a memory is so profound, powerful, and perfect it’s nearly impossible to convey and share it. For that reason I haven’t posted any of these brilliant photos by @adiwarnairawan from @anothertoddcooke & I’s Bali wedding until now. It felt like a karmic blessing to share a week long vacation with our closest loved ones at a trio of architecturally stunning villas in Ubud called Casa Bama, that lead up to our intimate wedding. It was the product of our friends and families devotional gifts of creativity - from music rehearsed by Todd’s brother & my mom, to floral arrangements made by my aunts, to bridal makeup lovingly done by my aunt, to Polaroid place cards snapped by friends, to the ceremony remarks written by our sister-in-law, to my cousin’s epic DJ set, to the offerings to the gods made by the Balinese staff to pray for a day of no rain (which we were blessed with), to all the other ways that the spirit of the land, the people, and the chosen & blood family we brought gave to us. We shared vows timed exactly with the sunset. We honored our cross cultural connection with a Chinese tea ceremony. But most significantly, we blended our families and became one of our own.

White & blue 🤍🩵 . Chapel @surethingchapel Flower @overthemoonlv Record store @11thstreetrecords . . . #lasvegasfilmphotographer #lasvegaselopementphotographer #lasvegaselopement #35mm #lasvegaswedding

In need of a last-minute gift idea? Why not purchase an art print of someone’s favorite Japanese snack? Available at inanothercountry.co (linked in bio).

@mterrycooke ’s Kodachrome slides of the “Hippie Trail” through Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bali, and Myanmar from the 1970s and 80s. There truly is nothing quite like Kodachrome.

There’s nothing quite like seeing your friends blossom as artists. The day after Thanksgiving, @yolo_ono and I were lucky enough to see @rachelandiemusic release her long-awaited album Battle Beetle at @johnnybrendas . The concert was the perfect digestif to the holiday: a little sweet, a little bitter. Like a glass of Fernet, the burn of exacting songwriting coalesced into a delectable draught that settled the spirit by suspending the soul. With effortless elan, Rachel used her big day to celebrate Philly’s collaborative music community, inviting friends—@reeseflorencecoran , @emilydrinker , @remarkire , and @key.hutch —to share the stage and the spotlight. During the entr’acte, Reese’s quiet, tender Guyanese saudade was lifted by the warmth of a cello, introducing a combination of such sumptuousness I can only compare it to those staples of American comfort food: mac and cheese, chicken noodle soup. Combinations of natural complement, you no longer want one without the other. Reese performed her well-loved “Digital Disassociation” alongside newer odes like “Tobacco,” honoring the much-maligned substance as an imperfect support for moments of pause in a culture that can’t stop moving. Rachel, whose aspirated vocals always sound to me like they’re teetering toward heartbreak before ascending to nirvana, played the new album straight-through. She opened with “Kabutomushi (カブトムシ),” a song about perseverance, then shifted into the hammer-on flurry of “Battle Beetle.” “In Between,” a favorite of mine, wavered delicately between themes of self-estrangement and homesickness. “Since February,” intimate and acoustic, gave way to the Bossa Nova–tinged “Glaucous,” with Rachel at her most reaching, before “Strange,” “Almost a Ghost,” and “The End” dissolved into a dream of disappearance. For her encore, Rachel welcomed a broad coterie of artists, including my dear friend @emilydrinker , for a soaring cover of Crowded House’s “(Hey Now) Don’t Dream It’s Over.” Whether these gems of Philadelphia’s humble music scene find a national audience remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: Philadelphia will forever guard and cherish their spirit wherever it takes them.

Making Time is a great name for a festival. These days, it seems our time is increasingly monopolized by those who do not have our best interest at heart, cannibalized by those who seek to capitalize on our attention, our time, our labor, our spirit. It might seem flippant to suggest that festival culture remains radical, especially as it increasingly pushes into the mainstream. But @davep_makingtime , and his merry band of incredibly hardworking misfits, prove that the heart that birthed house, EDM, and rave culture is still beating. To summarize year five of @makingtimeisrad as a “transcendental experience” is to invoke the strange tongue that Dave P has cultivated. Across the festival grounds, the question on everyone’s lips was, “Have you transcended, yet?”It might seem trite, but it truly is the only word apropos of the experience. Mounting a festival of such scale, for people from all over the world, and supplied almost entirely by Philadelphia vendors, not corporate sponsors, is no small feat. What other festival offers: a natural wine bar in a bunker, a local fruit stand, a chill-out room, all manner of food trucks, a coffee cart by @twopersonscoffee , merch by @roomshop , a sit-down dinner by @meetinghouse.phl , not to mention three days of exceptional music? But what’s more impressive than what Dave P has built is how he’s built it: with a focus on community, a DIY ethos, and an all-inclusive approach that safeguards attendees of all stripes. I once turned to my brother at a house show and said, “Adults are just kids who want to party in their parents’ basement.” Making Time is the only event I know, anywhere in the world, that honors that kid in all of us, while going to great lengths to accommodate our grown-up tastes. So as I left the last set at 2 o’clock in the morning on Sunday night, the question ringing in my ears was: “What will you make time for?” I, for one, know that I’ll be making time for Making Time. — Acts Featured: @boyharsher @interplanetary_criminal93 @yousukeyukimatsu @fcukers__ (All photos by me, save the last one by the inimitable @cal_le0n .)

The last @theclubforconnection Chess Meet of the season is this Wednesday at @bok_bar - join us for a friendly all-levels meetup for chess, conversation & community 10/8 from 6-9pm.

“Everyone was horny at @wetlegband ‘s sweaty Brooklyn show,” wrote Cady Siregar in @thefader , reviewing the band’s new tour to promote Moisturizer, an album about falling so disgustingly in love with someone that it makes you, and everyone else around you, nauseous. I know that feeling, and came appropriately prepared to jump up and down and scream my head off. The Philadelphia crowd at @franklinmusichall had a different conception of the band, one that baffled me. It was as if everyone thought they’d come to see a group called Wet Blanket. I was admittedly disappointed in my city, in the people who showed up: the @npr crowd who no doubt watched the band’s @tinydeskconcert and decided to venture out of the suburbs for a little culture: to spectate, not participate. An aggrieved man to my left kept inventing ever more peculiar and passive-aggressive ways to get me to stop swiveling and head-banging in place: blowing on my face, elbowing my side, exchanging stern looks with those around us, despite the fact that I wasn’t touching anyone. When did everyone get so uptight? Isn’t this what we’re here to do? It was as though the room feared the possibility of matching the raw catharsis of wailing guitars and licentious lyrics, of letting Rhian’s umbral, undulating stage presence catch hold. But the band played their hearts out anyway, and the crowd’s fear that things might get out of hand proved misplaced. When someone fell, Rhian stopped mid-song, made sure everyone was okay, then started over. To me, that’s hardcore. There was, admittedly, a great collective primal scream during “Ur Mom,” and plenty of love-lost queer kids singing along in a way that was genuinely moving. Meanwhile, the elder-millennial couples in attendance looked like they hadn’t had sex in years. Despite my disappointment with the crowd, it was an incredible show, channeling the energy of Sonic Youth and PJ Harvey. I just wish it had been a hardcore show.