@v0idkiwi aka dj kiwi aka kaygerbomb aka bomb threat aka kay moment
I’ve been following kay around taking pictures for almost a year now - from living room practices to house parties to playing clubs - and it’s been such a privilege making stuff together to help keep this thing rollin
Her next gig is under a bridge or in a tunnel or something at 3 in the morning which means you’ve officially made it as a dj as far as I’m concerned
Some thoughts on collective action and where I am finding hope and putting my faith these days
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I have felt a pain in my chest for the past eight years. It is always present, though its intensity wavers. Sometimes it is so debilitating that I don’t get out of bed. Sometimes I have to pull my car over, close my eyes, and breathe slowly for minutes. It has made me cancel dates at the last minute and cry while walking my dog more times than I can count.
For a long time, I believed this feeling—this hopelessness—was permanent, and far too vast to ever truly get a handle on. This led me to some dark places.
Therapy taught me to recontextualize it. I learned to use the pain as a compass. It informed my politics and how I move through the world. I had tried before to go numb, to not feel. But that was never going to be a solution for me. I feel such big feelings all the time.
From the injustice of ICE to the unimaginable cruelty on display in Palestine and beyond, the only consistent source of relief, the only thing I have found that eases the weight in my chest, is in the people doing.
It’s community organizers and volunteers.
It’s my friends marching in the streets, screaming at the top of their lungs.
It’s strangers continuing to protect one another, knowing they might be killed for it.
It’s me and you and us.
The cracks in the wall are beginning to show, and I have more faith than ever in our collective resolve to kick each brick apart.
On our fifth day in Iceland, sitting in a coffee shop a short walk from the hotel, I read an article in the Reykjavík Grapevine about a tiny island off the north coast. A three-hour boat ride from the mainland is a town—one shop, one bar, a handful of houses—called Grímsey.
It was a really interesting article explaining how, due to the deregulation and monopolization of the fishing industry driving just about everyone out, only 25 or so people still live there. What really got to me, though, was this quote from a resident:
“I know almost no Icelander that has ever been to Grímsey, it seems like they would rather have everyone move to the mainland. But by that logic, you could ask: what is anybody doing in Iceland anyway? Why do people still live here, instead of moving back to Norway? It’s a tiny, ridiculous rock in the middle of the North Atlantic. The whole thing is a fool’s folly. But foolishness is important for humanity. If we weren’t foolish, we wouldn’t be doing anything worthwhile.”
That last line in particular made me tear up in the coffee shop. If we weren’t foolish, we wouldn’t be doing anything worthwhile.
Anyways, I hope y’all are well. Maybe think about doing something stupid soon. Like committing to a trip to Iceland with your friends outside the bathroom stall of a bar and then doubling down and demanding they hold you accountable when you aren’t under the influence of (many) beers because, as you keep insisting, you have the credit card points.
Who knows, it might be worthwhile!
Xoxo,
And
