Hivemind Times Issue #74

Welcome To The Hivemind Times!

Graydon here. Edition #74 of the Hivemind Times has arrived. 

Out on the mainframe of Youtube we dropped videos on all three channels this week that I encourage you to go check out if you haven’t yet. 

This edition of The Times will have some very fun surprises and I think our first article by an actual movie star which has taken months to line up so please enjoy that. I hope this old newsletter can allow you to get lost in some magical tales, find some good music, learn a new trick in the kitchen or discover solace in an old French poem. 

Stay warm in both body and spirit in these dire days, call your friends, hug your loved ones and shame your local law enforcement.

- Riley & Graydon

MOVIE REVIEW

Trainspotting (1996) - Danny Boyle

Hello once again Hivemind Times readers!!! It’s your favorite side character Andrew Rozey. Since the last column I wrote got such glowing reviews I decided to stay full time and share more movie thoughts with you fellow movie heads. We’ll be going over new movies, old movies, and everything in between. I’m a lot of “philes”: a Chionophile, one who loves cold weather or snow, a Dendrophile, a lover of trees and forests, an Epistemophile, a lover of knowledge, but most importantly a cinephile. 

Anyways, today I want to reel it back to one of my favorite classic movies, Trainspotting. For those of you uncultured swine who haven’t seen it, Trainspotting is a movie about a group of Scottish guys who are addicted to heroin and having a good time. Seems like that’s the life I want to live.

On a more serious note, Trainspotting means the world to me because I see so many parallels between my life and Renton’s, the main character. Like him, I’ve felt trapped between wanting to escape and being pulled back by familiar habits and environments. Renton isn’t a hero but he’s painfully honest, flawed, self aware, and constantly wrestling with himself. Watching his attempts to break free, even when he fails, feels uncomfortably familiar. The film doesn’t glamorize his choices; it shows how messy and exhausting it is to want more from life while still being stuck in the same cycles. That feeling of knowing you need distance but not knowing where to go instead is something I’ve experienced myself. 

Sometimes it’s easier to stay in a familiar environment even if it’s destructive because at least it’s predictable. The idea of leaving means facing the unknown, and that can be terrifying. Trainspotting shows that escape isn’t just about physical distance; it’s about mentally separating yourself from what shaped you. Watching Renton try to break away made me reflect on how environments can define you and how difficult it is to become someone new when everything around you keeps reminding you of who you used to be. That’s why the movie hits so close to home for me. In my own life, I’ve struggled with those exact things. 

The reason I decided to write about this movie and how impactful it is to me is because recently my girlfriend Odessa A’zion (who was mentioned in the last review) and I sat down and watched it together on our couch in our apartment in Brooklyn.

Every Wednesday night we have a cute ritual: “let’s get our favorite food and watch a movie together in our matching pajamas.” We have a lot of rituals like this together. We also have a rule that whoever picks the movie is not allowed to apologize for it, even if it’s deeply depressing or absolute garbage. Halfway through the movie one of us will inevitably say “this is actually kind of about us.” We pause at least once to talk about something unrelated and then forget to press play for ten minutes. By the end one of us is falling asleep and the other insists on finishing the movie out of principle. 

Over time these rituals have become less about the movie and more about the comfort of doing the same small things together. This time around, I started to get a bit tired and shut my eyes during the movie. I pretended to fall asleep just so she would run her fingers through my hair a little longer. I slow my breathing and let my body go heavy while she traces her fingers through my hair like she has all the time in the world. Her hand moves in these small patient motions, brushing my scalp, pressing gently like she’s memorizing me. I feel every shift of her fingers, every pause when she thinks I’m fully gone. There’s this warmth that settles in my chest and spreads out until I forget whatever I was anxious about before. I’m aware of how close she is, the weight of her arm, and the quiet trust of being touched without being watched. It feels almost embarrassing how much I need it, how much it calms me, how it makes the world narrow down to just that couch and that moment. I let myself stay there longer than I should because it feels like being held together without having to ask. 

There are other moments like that, ones that feel too small to explain but somehow mean everything. Like when she rests her head on my shoulder and I don’t move even when my arm goes numb because I don’t want to break it. Or when she absentmindedly draws shapes on my arm while we’re talking and I lose track of the conversation just focusing on the pattern of her touch. Sometimes she hums without realizing it and I pretend not to notice so she won’t stop.

There are mornings where we don’t say anything at all, just existing in the same space, brushing teeth, taking turns in the mirror, bumping into each other and smiling. I love the way she reaches for my hand automatically when we cross the street like it’s muscle memory. These moments don’t ask for attention but they stay with me longer than anything loud or dramatic. They feel like proof that love can be quiet and still be overwhelming. 

Before her I felt sick in a way that was hard to explain. Not just physically but emotionally like something inside me was always slightly off. I woke up every day feeling heavy and disconnected like I was moving through my life without any real purpose. Getting out of bed felt optional and most days I didn’t see a reason to try very hard. Everything felt dull and directionless and I was convinced that was just how things were supposed to feel.

The end of my life is constantly on my mind. But when I looked into her eyes for the first time, she changed that without ever trying to fix me. Loving her gave my days shape and weight again. She’s the reason I get out of bed even on the days when I don’t want to be a person yet. She brings warmth and direction into my life so naturally that I didn’t even notice it happening at first. She’s the sun and I follow her not because I’m lost but because being near her makes everything clearer. When she’s around I want to show up. I want to try and be here.

Loving her didn’t save me but it reminded me why being alive is worth the effort. Life used to be a drag. I was worried about the wrong things filling some void with bullshit. But now just walking with her to our favorite pizza spot Luigi’s on 5th Ave in park slope is all I need. 

- Rozey

RECENT COACHING SHUFFLE

ALBUM RECS

Luis Alberto Spinetta led an Argentinean psychedelic rock band. A stark example of how abstractionism and melody can help navigate the murky waters of authoritarianism and provide an escape or even a way forward.

- Graydon

POEM OF THE WEEK

Charles Baudelaire (1863)

Windows

Looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window. There is nothing more profound, more mysterious, more pregnant, more insidious, more dazzling than a window lighted by a single candle. What one can see out in the sunlight is always less interesting than what goes on behind a windowpane. In that black or luminous square life lives, life dreams, life suffers.

Across the ocean of roofs I can see a middle-aged woman, her face already lined, who is forever bending over something and who never goes out. Out of her face, her dress, and her gestures, out of practically nothing at all, I have made up this woman's story, or rather legend, and sometimes I tell it to myself and weep.

If it had been an old man I could have made up his just as well.

And I go to bed proud to have lived and to have suffered in someone besides myself.

Perhaps you will say "Are you sure that your story is the really one?" But what does it matter what reality is outside myself, so long as it has helped me to live, to feel that I am, and what I am?

RECIPES

Whipped Lemon Ricotta DIp

Another low-effort, high reward dip for your Super Bowl party this weekend.

Here’s how to make it:

Ingredients

- 16oz container of whole-milk ricotta 

- 2 tbsp olive oil 

- 2-3 tbsp honey

- 1 tbsp lemon juice

- 1 tbsp lemon zest (optional - skip if you don’t have a zester or grater) 

- Pinch of salt

Instructions

Combine all ingredients in a food processor or blender and whip until smooth. Spread onto a serving dish.

Optional toppings: fresh rosemary or thyme, cranberries or pomegranate seeds, pistachios or walnuts, additional honey or lemon zest (creativity encouraged).

Serve with toasted baguette slices or crackers.

- Graydon

MERCH