Hivemind Times Issue #41

Welcome To The Hivemind Times!

What’s up my fellow gang members and human beings it’s your loyal editor and chief Graydon Buchanan Weaver. This week is bound to be a hoot of a read, I have injured my wrist on my non jerk hand and it’s going to impede my ability to type so I’ve called up the goon squad to put together something that is bound to be awesome. 

How have y'all been hangin’ in there, doing ight? Anyway sorry I didn’t get accepted into Streamer University hopefully I get in next year.

Well it’s Movement weekend here in the D which is the greatest electronic music festival in the world and I can’t wait to tell you guys about what kind of weird shit we get into next week. If you are gonna be there, keep an eye out for us - we will be fooling around and flexing the power of friendship left and right. 

Joyx3 I love you and so does Jesus. Read on.

- Riley & Graydon

WEEKLY PLAYLIST

Electronic music to get ready for Movement Fest here in Detroit this weekend.

…maybe dancing too.

CRONK’S UPDATE

Hello good people of the Hivemind newsletter,

I have been through great struggles the past few weeks. As you know, my beloved 2000 Ford Explorer (Eddie Bauer Edition, V8) has long suffered from Exhaust Manifold Leak Syndrome. I embarked on a two-week surgery on this beloved Ford truck to extract the faulty manifold and put this old man back into commission.

A quick recap: exhaust components are an absolute fucking pain to take apart. The heat cycles and Midwest rust really seize every bolt into place. Basically, if you have to take any part of an exhaust off, you must be prepared with a torch, a cutting wheel, and a high pain-in-the-ass tolerance.

The start of taking the manifold off actually went smooth — 7 out of 8 bolts came out without a hitch, leaving one snapped bolt in the engine, which was easily removed. Now, the two bolts that attach the rear of the manifold to the exhaust were an absolute nightmare. I could not, for the life of me — with all my years of working on cars — get to this bolt. It's completely under the car and very high up behind the engine, between the frame of the car and the wheel well. I spent an entire week lying on my back with my arms at full extension, hacksawing this bolt by hand. I felt a tremendous amount of relief once I made it through that bolt.

During the reassembly of the manifold and the various components I had to remove along the way (belt, alternator, airbox, throttle body, EGR valve, various vacuum hoses, one extremely rusted wheel well liner, and the starter), I experienced various issues that I can only attribute to stupidity and exhaustion. I spent two days meticulously reassembling everything, only to be greeted by a shrieking whistle when starting the car. It took me 36 hours to troubleshoot before realizing a loose throttle body bolt was causing air to leak in through the side of the throttle body plate. After tightening that bolt, I can officially say: the Explorer is the only car I’ve ever had that didn’t have an exhaust leak. It sounds incredibly quiet, but mean.

Here’s a quote from Tony after I took him for a ride:

Thank you all for your support. Next up Driveshaft!

- Cronk

VIDEO GAMES

Hey guys, so I don't have too much to contribute but I wanted to let everyone know that we successfully killed the ender dragon last night. Could not have done it if it were not for my boys Nick, swashbucklr48, lemons, Rozey, and Hunter.

Ok honestly we demolished the poor guy - it was 6 v 1 and we had full enchanted diamond/netherite sets. Oh we got the wings too -  we out here baby. Special shoutout to cookingkirby, they couldn't make it bc they fell asleep.

- Tony

ALBUM RECS

Enjoy!

ROZEY’S STORY

It’s 5:50 PM on a hot Los Angeles Thursday late afternoon as I write this. 

I got a text from Graydon asking me to write something for the Hivemind Newsletter, and honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say. So I figured I’d write about my story with the Hivemind guys. Just a heads up: I’m not the best at telling stories, and most of these are scrambled memories, so bear with me. 

It all starts in early 2020. 

I was working at a tiny Rite Aid in Northeast Philly. The only plan I had was to move to Los Angeles with Quinn (Tamagothic) and chase our music dreams. I had zero direction, and I was angry, angry at the world and miserable in every way. Everything up to that point had been hurt and pain. I hated where I lived and everything around me. 

I met Riley through my (at the time internet only) friend, Suicide Rascal. Riley and I became close fast. We talked a lot about music, Detroit, whatever. We just clicked. 

In the spring of 2020, I decided to drive from Philly to Cincinnati, Ohio, to meet Rascal and Riley in person. I stayed at Rascal’s apartment, which he shared with a few others, one of them being Internetboy. 

It was my first time in Ohio, and it was a relief. At that point, COVID infection rates were a lot lower in Cincinnati than Philly, so it felt like we could actually go outside and do things. Back home, it felt like the world had ended. 

That trip was life changing. It was the first time I met people who really got me. I felt like I could be myself, say the weird stuff I always say without someone going, “Bro… what the fuck?” I could share my strange ideas and obscure feelings without judgment. 

When I got back to Philly, a kind of gloom just fell over everything. That sense of freedom I felt in Ohio was gone, stripped away, and it hit me hard. 

One night I was talking to Riley, telling him that Quinn, who he hadn’t met yet, and I were planning to move to LA in a month or two. Riley said, “Bro... fuck LA, just move to Detroit.” I laughed and said, “Who the fuck would want to live there?” thinking he was joking. He wasn’t. It was a real invitation to come to Detroit and move into the Hivemind house. We talked about it more, and I was really into the idea, but I couldn’t leave Quinn behind. So I asked, “Hey, can this guy you don’t know at all come too?” There was some hesitation, understandably, but Riley said, “Sure.” 

A month later, I packed everything I owned, two suitcases and my computer, and drove to Toms River, New Jersey, to Quinn’s family house. It was his dad’s birthday, so we had pizza, said happy birthday, and hit the road. 

You should’ve seen the car after Quinn packed. It was packed to the roof with stuff, completely chaotic. We stopped at a gas station in Jersey and a group of girls saw the car and started laughing, probably thinking we were trash people. So we named it “Trash Mountain.” We had a box of 36 peach Red Bulls (a parting gift from my Rite Aid manager) and 13 hours of driving ahead of us. 

That drive saved my life. As the sun went down, I felt this sensation I might never feel again, like chains were being lifted off my back. I felt free, excited, genuinely happy. I don’t think I’ll ever feel that good again. 

We got to Detroit around 6 AM. Riley came out to help us bring our stuff in. Me being the klutz I am, I was dragging my suitcase up two flights of stairs. DONK DONK DONK BAM. It was loud. Our landlord, who lived next door, threatened to evict us the same day we arrived (sorry Riley). 

Riley showed us our rooms. Mine was incredible. It was on the third floor. You had to go through the studio to get to Quinn’s room, then through Quinn’s to get to mine, which was the attic. Dark and musty, with a family of bats living up there. Quinn and I threw our stuff on the floor and passed out. Five hours later, we woke up and went downstairs to meet the rest of the house. 

It was hot. The house was built in 1890, no working AC, and Detroit was in a heat wave. The first thing I ate there was a burger from HopCat. Riley took Quinn and me out. They finally got to meet and talk. 

This era of my life was exciting and full of new energy. Quinn, Riley, and I did everything together. They were the bestest friends I’d ever had. I finally felt like I belonged. 

Graydon came over the next day. He was working as a bartender then, showed up sweaty and pissed about something that happened at work. I loved him right away, but we didn’t get close until the next year. 

(Now that I think about it, I didn’t really get close to the rest of the crew, Tony, Hunter, Huntley, Ty, Jake, until years later.) 

A few months in, one of our roommates moved out, and I finally got a real room. I spray painted the walls and let anyone add to it. It became this weird, chaotic hovel of satanic imagery and vulgar sayings. 

I remember when Hivemind hit 10K subs. I had nothing to do with that achievement, but I felt so happy. It was the first time in my life something felt like it was working. 

Autumn came, and I experienced my first Michigan fall. The trees looked like they were on fire, the reds so vivid. Then winter hit… 

Holy fuck. I’d never felt that kind of cold. Or seen that much snow. 

A lot happened after that. Our basement flooded with literal shit water (you could smell it from outside). We had a major mouse problem. Went to some strange raves at the Russell. Met new people. Forgot others. Ate a lot of Taco Bell. 

Then in 2022, I made the classic emotionally charged 20 year old decision to move to Richmond, Virginia. As I drove away, I played “Earthboy” by DIIV, Riley had shown me the band. I started weeping. I’m tearing up now just remembering it. I drove back home the next day, hugged Riley and Quinn, and told them I’d miss them. They became the brothers I never had. They still are. 

Richmond was a disaster (not getting into it), and I came back four or five months later. 

But when I returned to Detroit, things had changed. Quinn had moved to Oklahoma. Everyone had moved out of the house except Riley. What was once a house full of life had become a crypt of old memories. Still, it felt good to be back. I was where I belonged, with my brothers. 

That’s when I grew close to Graydon. Our landlord was kicking us out, so Riley moved down the street, and I moved in with Graydon. 

It was late August. I had long blonde hair and a heavy heart. I moved in with Graydon, Wags, and Cletus (a dog who never really liked me). I got a job at Trader Joe’s. Music wasn’t going well, and my friends were always busy. But every night when I came home, Graydon and I would watch a movie or he’d get mad at PGA golf. We ate a lot of cheese quesadillas and pumpkin cheesecake. That’s when I finally became close with Tony, Hunter, Huntley, and the rest. 

Then, pretty much out of nowhere, I moved to London. 

I was always moving or threatening to move. Always chasing something, some missing piece of my soul. I thought leaving everything behind would fix me. It never did. London was the best place I’ve ever been. I hope to live there until I die. But I was lonely. I didn’t have my friends. So I came back, back to Graydon’s apartment. 

Soon after, I moved in with Quinn and Gavin (Damage Gavin). That house sucked. I got wrecked by mold and was dizzy for a month. But I met a really great girlfriend. After our lease was up, we moved to LA, where I am now. Writing this. 

I’m happier now. That gnawing feeling, that urge to escape, is gone. I would be nothing without my friends in Detroit. They are the only reason I’m here today. 

I was 18 when I made the move. I took a very different path than most of my peers. I’ve seen horrible things. I’ve seen beautiful things. I’ve loved, I’ve hated, I’ve laughed, I’ve wept. 

I’m grateful for every moment I spent in that great city, and most of all, for the lifelong friends I made. 

Fuck it. 

- Rozey

RILEY’S TWITTER DRAFTS

LIVE SHOW PREVIEW

Movement Weekend is upon us, Detroit.

We kicked it off back in the year 2000 under the name Detroit Electronic Music Festival. Every year on Memorial Day weekend, we put the potholes, car insurance rates, and Canada all in the rearview mirror. DJs and electronic music artists from all over the world come to Detroit, the home of techno, to celebrate three nights of pure sonic wonder. Coachella? Come on.

The main portion of the festival kicks off around noon and ends right at midnight, but witching hour is when the city just begins to come alive. There’s just nothing like cramming 500 people into a small warehouse in the middle of nowhere, with one broken red light bulb, 10 pounds of glow sticks, and plenty of legal activities to go around.

Finally 2 AM rolls around, I’m three drinks in, wearing my Pikachu onesie, and ready to people-watch. The thumping kick drum rips through my chest as I peel off the onesie and break into what might be the most original dance of the 21st century. God, I love this song. Motor city 5 AM movement weekend, and the night is young.

You might end up at a bonfire down the road listening to German techno eating a free waffle cooked by a nomadic bass wook while watching the Amtrak go by as the sun comes up.  To that I salute the UAW flag and say, Human existence doesn't get much better than that.

Movement is a music festival you really can’t put a label on, because at the end of the day, it’s Detroit, and Detroit is the people. If you live here, you can’t escape the lure of this festival, even if you never step foot in the gates. Everywhere, from the bookshop to the barbershop, is hosting a DJ set that day. 

As the festive weekend flies by and Monday hits you like a brick wall, you wake up tired, but hear a sound in the distance – a thumping.  Graydon is smoking a cig on the balcony listening to crystal castles and Cronk just door dashed waffles for the whole crew.  You remember...you’re not working on Monday and there is still one more day of coma inducing dance music left. And if you do work Monday because late-stage capitalism is busy extracting your labor value, then you already took the day off of course.  

Anyways, Riley is forcing my small, feeble hands to take vlogs of him all weekend for him at the festival, so I’ll be working. If you catch me out there, I only request iced coffee with oat milk, please.   

- internetboy

MERCH