I could roll up our tin and You would wiggle right in
And as sardines We’d be served on saltines
And at last we’d be In someone’s belly Dreaming of life in the sea
— Rachel Loring
Lauren Maingot
Line Coviello
Kiley Parrish
Chase Clough
Sarah Torres
Catherine Trouillot
Isabella Dawson
Rachel Loring
Chesney Jensen
Lauren Maingot
Brenna McWha
Alissa Donovan
Kiley Parrish
Rachel Loring
Shellphone Directory
Beyond The Bubble: My Ocean of Friends
A Bunk Bed by the Beach
Fishing for a New Look?
Finding Myself by the Sea
My Bottom Feeder Romance
I Learned to Dive
A Love Letter to Trader Joe’s Seaweed Snack
Sally’s Seashells
So, You’re Hooked
An Interview With my Dad
Aquaculturist, Entrepreneur, and Coolest Guy Ever
Friday Night FishFry
Things I’ve Been Fishing for Lately
Top Five Whales
SHITS & GIGGLES
Kiley Parrish
Rachel Loring
OOO, Gone Fishing
Rachel
Rachel
Melanie
Ménage á cinq
by Melanie Blatt
find me by the sea ocean spray blessing my skin with its sticky kiss the sand molded to my flesh and stuck to the palms of my hands this day like all the rest is good and whole. the world is burning, the oceans warming, and it is loud but here it is quiet the ocean is a woman and she knows.
i am a child when we play walking deep into her mouth as she takes a breath running in small steps towards shore as she lets it out we laugh as i let her catch me her warm embrace licking at my calves as a lioness cleans her youth “you’ve gotten so big” she says tears bead my eyes when i realize how long it’s been i give her my hand and she takes it the world quiets and i begin to pray
Beachcomber Tips
Tide Timing: Go at low tide for the best finds.
Post-Storm: Check after storms for new treasures.
Unusual Spots: Explore rocks, coves, and ledges.
Sand Dollar Clypeasteroida
Junonia Shell Scaphella junonia
LOOKING FOR SEA GLASS?
Sea glass is created when discarded glass gets tumbled by waves, turning sharp edges into smooth, colorful gems. Check out these top spots to find these colorful treasures:
Glass Beach, California, USA
Seaham Beach, Scotland
Toyama Bay, Japan
Kachemak Bay Alaska, USA
NAME CONTACT
Cowrie Shell Cypraea
Scallop Shell Pectinidae
Jingle Shell Anomia simplex
Spider Conch Lambis lambis
Tulip Shell Fasciolaria
Murex Shell Muricidae
Found on sandy beaches in the Gulf of Mexico, California, and the Mediterranean.
Found on beaches in the Gulf of Mexico, particularly along the Florida Panhandle.
Auger Shell Terebra
Abalone Shell Haliotis
Some shells can “sing”—when submerged, certain species produce a distinct sound as they move through water.
Found on beaches in the Maldives, Philippines, and Hawaii.
Found along beaches in New England, the UK, and the Mediterranean.
Found on sandy shores in the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic U.S.
Found on reefs and beaches in the Indian Ocean, around Madagascar and Seychelles.
Found on sandy beaches in the Gulf of Mexico and Florida.
Found along the Mediterranean and IndoPacific coasts.
Found in deep waters around the Indo-Pacific, including Fiji and Tahiti.
Found along coastal waters in New Zealand, South Africa, and California.
PLEASE COLLECT RESPONSIBLY
BEYOND THE BUBBLE: MY OCEAN OF FRIENDS
Yby Line Coviello
ou’ve probably heard the saying “There’s plenty of fish in the sea”, and you might have had loved ones reassuring you that you will find your fish someday. And as annoying as the saying is, it’s true. You will find your fish, you will find your bikini bottom, your coral reef, or wherever it is you truly belong.
This is a story of how I found my fish, built my coral reef, and discovered other wonderful sea creatures along my way. I grew up in the Danish suburbs, 30 minutes north of a little neighborhood in Copenhagen that would become my home when I started college. And the story starts in that little neighborhood in Copenhagen that I got to call home for 5 years.
I’m sitting in my bed in my small
apartment in eastern Copenhagen. My world consists of school, friends, family, and parties. I’m halfway through my bachelor’s degree; I’m 20 years old and I’m living my life like most 20-year-old girls who attend Copenhagen Business School. I go to class most days; I diligently attend my work as a student assistant at the Danish Building Agency twice a week. I party on most Thursdays and typically show up to my statistics class Friday morning with a hangover. I go to work in a shoe store on Saturdays and have my weekly juice from Joe & the Juice with other girls who are also studying something at one of the universities in the city. On Sundays, I eat sourdough buns with butter and cheese with my girlfriends and gossip about whatever is happening in our lives while drinking our café lattes. And when Monday
comes around, I start over and do it again, and again, and again. I live in a safe little bubble of what I know and what I have always known. One rainy autumn morning, as I’m sitting in my bed on a fall day, hungover, looking out on the rain and seeing the 50 shades of orange leaves that are falling from the trees, I find myself longing. I’m longing for more. I long for something to take me away from my safe little bubble.
That fall, I applied to study abroad, like many others did at my college. The choice to study abroad wasn’t just a choice made on a whim. It was different, this was something I wanted for myself.
I also met a guy; it was a somewhat eventful fall you could say. He was a friend of a friend, and he was the most normal guy in every way possible. I chose him because he wanted me, and it seemed like a good choice to be with him. I had found one of those fish that people would talk about wanting to find, so I kept him, as I convinced myself he was my fish. He wasn’t thrilled about my plans to study abroad, but I was determined to go; this was something I wanted to do for myself.
With over 300 partner schools to choose from, I picked Bentley University in Massachusetts, far from the typical study-abroad scene. Typically, people study abroad more so to travel and have fun, not to just go to school somewhere else, and a serious school nonetheless. I wouldn’t find out about this until after I started my classes though, so at this point in time I applied for Bentley University only with excitement.
Summer arrived, and if you hadn’t already guessed it by now, that normal guy wasn’t my fish after all. I had tried, and I had wanted him to be, but as he fell deeper and deeper in love, I felt more and more suffocated, like my
bubble was shrinking on me. I didn’t have the heart to break things off; I couldn’t be a shark and just shred his heart to pieces. I was about to leave to study abroad and wouldn’t be back home until Christmas. I was excited to leave; he, on the other hand, was upset and didn’t want me to go. He was already missing me as my mind was halfway across the world with nothing but a longing for experiences and making my own choices. So, a month or so later, I broke up with him. Like a clown fish, I waited until I didn’t have to face the mess of a ceviche I ended up causing. And now there I was, so far from home and back to being just me. It was time to make some choices just for myself.
Little did I know, things were about to change. There’s another saying people like to put out there when it comes to love and finding your fish:
“It happens when you least expect it”.
And that also turned out to be true in my case. Because there he was, my fish, halfway across the world, at a fraternity party, looking deadly handsome, smiling so wide and enticingly, casually playing beer pong in his (ugly) red solo cup shorts. I had to know who he was. And oh boy, I found out. And I fell in love. And so did he.
laughter, and love. He had fraternity brothers, and they all let me into their bubbles, in their big, shared ocean. I felt myself getting wrapped in seaweed in the best way. I didn’t want to leave, I liked their ocean, and I loved my handsome, lovely fish. They all expanded my bubble and my sea.
His best friend was also his roommate. I would describe him as a salmon, because he was liked by most, and understandably so. He was nice and mild, yet energetic. He was JUST friends with the most energetic girl, a bubbly dolphin of a girl. She was warm, full of joy and energy. She was the first girl to hang out with me and all the guys for a weekend. She was so welcoming and kind, and she didn’t even know me. She took me under her flipper, and just like that, she invited me into her bubble and expanded my sea once more.
As Christmas approached, I dreaded returning to Copenhagen. I didn’t sleep the two weeks before leaving. I was miserable, there were so many unknowns. The biggest being whether our love would survive the Atlantic?
My fish had been swimming in a different sea than I. He was a marlin. He was beautiful, living a fast-paced life with high ambitions, but he was also the safest person I had ever met. He protects everything he loves and would go to the end of the world for the things he cares about. He could look intimidating, but once he let you in, there was nothing but warmth,
We decided to try a long-distance relationship; we wanted to give it a shot. A part of my heart was left in the States, and I found myself belonging to multiple places. It was tough, but when I told you I had met my fish, I meant it. And so did he. We got married at the town hall in Copenhagen, he proposed a month later in the Copenhagen Botanical Garden, and I applied for a green card. All in that order. And finally, I moved to New York.
His best friend, the likable salmon, and the bubbly dolphin of a girl finally came to the realization that they were a match, and they got an apartment in NYC together. And a little piece of advice: find yourself a dolphin, because they never swim alone, and they never let you swim alone either. My lovely dolphin took me under her flipper once more and showed me her wonderful sea and introduced me to all her wonderful friends. They showed me kindness and warmth, proving that friends, like fish, come in all shapes and sizes, each adding color to my reef. And they became a part of my sea, and it once again expanded. This past August, we had a big summer wedding with all our friends and family, as we had to celebrate with them. It was the most magical night, and it was the night we got to see our two seas become one great ocean.
Today, I sit in my bed in my townhouse in Long Island. I am no longer longing to burst my bubble, because I am no longer confined to a bubble. I belong in the ocean with my fish, in a whirlwind of bubbles including all my old friends, all my new friends, all my partners friends, and with space for future friends. I am my own fish, charting my own course. Yes, storms still come, but I never face them alone. Each fish in my life brings something unique to my coral reef, and I’m honored to inhabit their seas as they inhabit mine. I found my fish and I will forever be grateful. You will find your fish too, just keep your sea open.
THE CRAB
by Rachel Williams
I’m a Cancer Sun, Venus, and Mars. If you don’t know what any of that means, all you need to know is that Cancer is represented by the crab. So I’m very crabby.
Cancers are often notorious for retreating into their “shell,” their safe space, when threatened. This metaphor became relevant in my life this year after I went through a debilitating depression spell that started around December. It snuck up on me, and it came to a head in February. I was forced back into my shell to evaluate how I had gotten to this point of inability to function. I started medicating again, after an unsuccessful attempt in 2019, and took time off work. But, despite my best efforts to regain my sense of stability, I moved to a new apartment in March, so my world once again became unfamiliar and overwhelming. I had shed my old shell, and the new one didn’t feel like home yet.
I had to pause making plans, going to workout classes, even going on a walk or out to eat was feeling debilitating. I was so hard on myself for not doing anything, but really, not doing anything was what saved me and got me back on my feet. If I didn’t take a hard stop, I would have crashed. Who knows what would’ve happened.
Now, I’m trying to find the delicate balance of my new shell. I was unable to see the signs of the oncoming depressive episode, or maybe I just ignored them. Either way, I’m navigating how to advocate for myself. When to say no. I’m notoriously hard on myself, especially when comparing myself to others.
Living in New York is hard for people who sometimes just need to be home. My friends are always out and about, and sometimes I can’t keep up, but that didn’t stop me from trying. There is always some new exhibit to check out or a new restaurant you want to try. Telling yourself to stop and rest isn’t always easy, even if that is what you need. I still feel like I am getting back on my feet and trying to be gracious with myself in the meantime. But I feel myself alchemizing, and I know I will come out of my shell ready to enjoy the world again. And that the shell will always be there if I need it.
There was always a distinct smell when you walked into our beach condo. A mix of lemony cleaning spray and lingering salt air, with flecks of sand still clinging to the floor, exactly how it should be. The long hallway led you straight to the ocean, the view growing bigger with every step, joined by the sound of waves crashing and birds chirping.
To the left of the hallway was our nook. In it were two bunk beds tucked into the wall where my sisters and I crashed every summer, from ages three until well into college. The older we got, the more we complained about “sleeping in the hallway,” but I’d give anything to climb back up to
by Kiley Parrish
The waterpark where my sisters and I graduated from baby pools to big kid slides. Late-night mini-golf tournaments after scoops of ice cream. Claiming our spots under the navy blue umbrellas to read with Mom. Sneaking into the hot tub after hours because five hours in the ocean somehow still weren’t enough.
Every year was more or less the same. Same condo. Same beach chairs. Same sleepy town. And somehow, that repetition became sacred. There’s something powerful in doing the same things over and over again, but with people you love, and watching how time changes you while the place stays still.
Even now, I can close my eyes and picture it all: the drive to the closest Publix, the faded sign of the ice cream shop, the mall where we spent too many hours trying on clothes we didn’t need. Over two decades, the town barely changed. But I did. I grew up. I learned how precious it is to return to the same place year after year and feel like nothing has changed, even when everything else has. We eventually sold the condo, as families do, when life started pulling us in new directions. But the version of me that lived in that bunkbed hallway, sunburnt, sandy, and completely at peace, is still in there somewhere. Condo 606 may belong to someone else now,
FISHING FOR A NEW LOOK?
Catch from your own closet!
by Chase Clough
In a world of fast everything–fashion, food, trends–it can feel like you never have enough, like you are never enough. There’s always a new perfect going-out top you need to buy, restaurants you need a reservation for that leave the zeitgeist a week later, or a part of yourself you’d never given the time of day until you were told by a stranger to be insecure about it.
How do you cancel out all of this noise? Stay afloat in this sea of content?
One way I navigate these tumultuous waters is by making my clothes feel like home. I’ve curated my closet to the point where I love the pieces in it and, more importantly, how I feel in them. I use them as a form of the truest selfexpression, an extension of myself.
You don’t need to hop on the latest trend when you own items you love. Not because they’re the hot new item, but because they truly speak to you.
“But Chase!” I hear you say, “I hate everything I own! And you just told me not to go out and buy more stuff!”
Worry not! This is where we get creative, some may even say scrappy.
Open up your trusted Pinterest account (ad blocker enabled) and search “fashion”. Start saving every outfit that you like. You’ll need a lot of pins for this to work, so keep at it until your fingers are cramped. Once you have about 50 pins and it feels like your fingers are going to fall off, it’s time to start analyzing.
Look for common themes, I focus on colors, silhouettes, patterns, and specific items. For example, I continually see plaid, pleated skirts in the outfits I pin paired with graphic tops, tights, and boots.
Now, think about what you already own and what you might be lacking. Can you mimic these outfits without actually buying the specific pieces shown in the photo?
Here are three outfits I pinned and how I recreated them with clothes from my closet.
When putting together these outfits, I thought of three main things: What do I like about these outfits? What do I already own? What do I know I dislike wearing?
In the first outfit: I enjoyed the silhouette, I own a long denim skirt and boots, and I know I dislike wearing light colored tops. So, I switched out the white tank for a black halter.
In the second outfit: I liked the idea of elevating a basic outfit, I own the staple clothing items and alternative jewelry, and I know I dislike wearing high-waisted pants. So, I opted for midrise jeans instead of flare pants.
In the third outfit: I liked the silhouette, I own plenty of cut-off band shirts, and I dislike how few accessories she’s wearing. So, I added fishnets, layered belts, and opted for patterned micro shorts.
The point of our Pinterest audit was inspiration, not recreation. Knowing what you do and don’t like will be your saving grace when finding new pairings.
If you’re feeling stuck with your wardrobe, here are things I do to add excitement back to my clothes:
Modify your underworn clothes to fit your aesthetic goals. If I have a long skirt I haven’t worn in a while, I’ll take a safety pin and hike it up so there’s now a slit and flowy layers.
Pair two items you love together, even if they don’t “match”. As
someone who usually doesn’t pattern mix, I wore a pinstripe button-down with a newspaper-patterned skirt.
Stagger your wardrobe changeovers at the start of a new season. Instead of taking out all of your clothes at once, do it in two parts. This way, you’ll feel like you’ve unlocked new outfits without having to buy anything else.
As the world continues to push out faster and faster trend cycles, the best way to not succumb to the pressure is to feel secure in yourself. Take time to understand what you enjoy, whether or not it’s the hot, new item. You can build a closet that is timeless to you as you continue to figure out new things about yourself and love who you’re becoming.
Its true, its true! And the other thing is, my sister had a baby and I took it over after she passed away and the baby lost all its legs and arms and now its just a stump but I take care of it with my wife and... and its growing and its fairly happy... and its difficult because I’m working a second shift at the factory to put food on the table but all the love that I see in that little guy’s face it makes it worth it in the
FINDING MYSELF BY THE SEA
by Sarah Torres
Small hands reaching for flashes of orange and blue. A metropolis of crustaceans darting around. Equatorial sun beating down on mother and daughter. Her figure providing the child shade while her shoulders become rose-colored and warm.
Sand in our scalps and dirt under our nails. Castles made for kings and adventures with no end. We throw our bodies into the churning sea until we are left exhausted, seeking refuge in our sun soaked towels
Low tide under a crescent moon. In the darkness, the shore has no end. We sit under the stars and listen to the lapping of water with our eyes closed and hands on our hearts, breathing with
the current. In complete silence, this is the closest I have ever felt to my father.
Sitting on rocks, watching the water inch closer to our feet. Together, we take off our clothing and walk into the inky sea. There is a full moon. Is this what Aphrodite felt? I see nothing but your face and the small waves surrounding our bodies. I am terrified. I am free. Our laughter echoes across the moonlit beach. We are the only people on Earth.
Your fingers tracing shapeless designs into my back to lull me to sleep. Your voice whispering words to subdue my anxious mind.The heat of your body on the small of my back. Waves crashing outside our window. I fall sleep to murmurs from a machine that recreate this somniferous moment every night.
Children running recklessly with liquid gold covering their hands and mouths. Some are swimming, most are observing – taking in the beauty of this expansive view. Hours pass and people keep their eyes on a sight that´s ever-changing and stays the same. One does not need much to live a peaceful life.
The Mermaid
Rachel Williams Oil
I’m sinking, lower and lower. I’ve been banished to the shadows until I can learn to embrace them. For so long, I was fighting the tide. I was fighting this side of me, the side that came from darkness. All I want is to be free, all I want is the light that others seem to have. The light that is lacking in me. I’m swimming in darkness, in hopes of finding that light within. One day soon I will emerge. I know it. I will fly to the sky, fully alchemized. Fully embracing all that I am, shadows and light. Free to go between the depths and the surface.
MY BOTTOM FEEDER ROMANCE
by Catherine Trouillot
They say there are plenty of fish in the sea. I, being the smart little fish I am, managed to hook the saddest, strangest fish from the pits of the lowest points of the bottom of the ocean floor when I was 20. My junior year of college, I met a boy who worked at The Red Lobster, and I genuinely wish I had never set eyes on him. It all started when I stumbled upon him in a random 4-bedroom apartment in Tallahassee, Florida, sitting in a wheelchair.
“What’s with the wheelchair?” I had asked. He broke his ankle, he told me. We talked about it for a few minutes, then he proceeded to get up and walk on said broken ankle (clearly not broken), to the keg stand to get himself more beer. And that’s when I knew I had to have him. Cut to six months later, we are having nightly rendezvous three to four times a week, under the guise of a very casual relationship. I need to focus on myself, I had said. I can’t handle a relationship right now, I had said. It’s not personal, I had said. He agreed to it all. (Spoiler: it was NOT casual.) Somewhere between
shifts at the Red Lobster and our 8 am drives of shame back to the sorority house, we became a fullfledged couple. Just, you know, without any of the meaningless things like titles, sunlight, or emotional honesty. We were the worst-kept secret in the greater Tallahassee metropolitan area. I told myself it was casual. I told my friends it was casual. I told him it was casual. The only thing that wasn’t casual was how I would stare at my phone every single night, circa 11 pm, and wait for his “Wyd” text. I was so committed to pretending I didn’t care that I had constructed an entire double life. By day, I was Catherine: Women in Accounting Treasurer, an independent diva who hissed at men who walked near her. By night, I was basically living in his off-campus bedroom, which was exclusively decorated with an American flag, listening to him mansplain the concept of buying in bulk.
I really thought I was protecting myself by choosing to spend every night with someone who was so disconnected from everything I thought mattered,
when I was just softlaunching my emotional demise. Here’s the kicker: while I was busy maintaining our very not subtle façade (read: spiraling in silence), I was simultaneously, somehow, experiencing things for the first time. Like tenderness. Care. A man who got me Christmas presents and flowers for the holidays, I didn’t even think warranted a text. He once kept an envelope I had given him, not that it had anything important on it, but for the sole reason that it had my handwriting on it. What kind of sentimental bullshit is that? And every time he did something kind, sweet, something very human, I would—without fail—brush it off. Act like I didn’t care. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I didn’t know what to do with all of it; someone was treating me so well. Like this man was serving me a 13-course emotional omakase, and I was sending it back because I ordered “casual.”
And now, looking back, I’ve been in situations that were far more official, public, exclusive, and yet? I keep
circling
back to the loser from Tampa Bay. Somehow, the fish I tossed back is the one I now compare all the others to. He, unknowingly, set the bar. For all of them. And, not to sound redundant, but I feel it’s imperative to emphasize, I didn’t even date him. I legitimately caught a fish, tossed it back into the ocean after just a few moments, and am standing on the dock in my old age saying, “No seafood has tasted the same since.” Now, three years later, Red Lobster is in what appears to be a disgustingly stable, happy relationship. She probably smiles and gives him ‘thank you’ head when he makes her Easter baskets.
So, what’s the takeaway here? Fuck if I know. Maybe it’s that timing is everything. Maybe it’s that sometimes, maybe never, is “casual” actually casual. Or maybe it’s just that if a man in a wheelchair asks you out and also happens to work at Red Lobster, RUN. You will catch feelings for him and be in denial about it for the next year. They say there are plenty of fish in the sea, and that’s true. I’ve ghosted a few. But I don’t think of any of them, ever, except for one. And I let him go, laughing, thinking I was above it all. (Spoiler: I was not.)
So, to the girlies who think you’re in control—you’re not. If he buys you flowers on the next meaningless holiday, or buys you boxers to match his because you love wearing them, you are soooooo fucked and I am so stupidly jealous.
DRIFT AND DISCOVER
wordsearch by Macy
Kissel
Find the following words hidden in the sailboat below. Words may go forward, backward, diagonal, or swim in any direction.
HOW LUCKY AM I?
by Line Coviello
How lucky am I?
I wonder when looking at the sky
The amount of stars that have to align I see the Big Dipper
Maybe that is a sign
The ship is my life and I am the skipper
How lucky am I?
I wonder when I cry
To have feelings so deep they could fill an ocean
They can be a whirlwind of commotion
They can be peaceful and warm
The feelings are mine and I let them form
How lucky am I?
I wonder when times fly by
To have friends that would go to the bottom of the ocean for me
To have that is no guarantee
So I make sure to do the same I’ll be there if you call my name
How lucky am I?
I wonder when I sit in a plane sky high
To swim in the sea and hike the mountains
To throw coins for luck in different fountains
The world can be your oyster
Just don’t let fear become your cloister
How lucky am I?
To be able to wonder why
How I came by all this luck
And I don’t say that life will never suck
But even when life does seem mucky, I know that I am lucky.
SHITS & GIGGLES
OOO, GONE FISHING
Out-of-office replies for when you’ve completely checked out by Kiley
Parrish
Subject: Gone Fishing (For Stability)
Hi there, I’m currently away from my inbox in search of peace, purpose, and possibly a stable romantic partner with a boat. Responses will be delayed, much like my emotional development.
Continue being patient,
Subject: OOO: Catching Nothing but Red Flags
Hello, I’m currently out of office and knee-deep in romantic delusion. If you need something, ask someone with better boundaries and a less active imagination. Hope this helps. It won’t.
Subject: Gone Fishing (for Boundaries)
Thank you for your message. I am currently unavailable due to a complete and glorious absence of giving a damn. Please direct all questions to someone who’s still pretending to care.
Subject: OOO: Hooked on a Thought Spiral
I’m currently unavailable because I’ve made one small mistake and decided to relive every embarrassing moment I’ve ever had. I’ll be back once I finish romanticizing my downfall and/or get a compliment from a stranger.
Until then, Godspeed.
Subject: Gone Fishing (Spiritually)
I’m away, fishing for answers. I’ll get back to you when I have one. Pray for me.
Subject: OOO: Restoring Sanity via Saltwater
I’ve gone to submerge myself in ocean water in hopes that it rinses off my anxiety. Will reply when my brain turns off.
Subject: Something’s fishy
Maybe it’s the week-old salmon bowl leftovers, but I’m feeling a little sea sick today. Will be on the search for a horizon to stare at, and a mop to swab the deck with.
Subject: OOO, Marooned
My super is coming to fix my wifi, in the meantime, I will be video calling from my hotspot.
Apologies for the inevitable glitches.
Subject: Need bait, don’t text
I will be taking the afternoon to enjoy a meal eaten outside on a blanket, preferably in a park.
Subject: OOO, Caught in a Net!
Aka doomscolling with teams open
“RAINBOW TROUT“
BY MACY KISSEL
83% MERINO WOOL, 10% NYLON, 6% BABY ALPACA
PATTERN IS FAT FUR HAT BY SPEKTAKELSTRIK
I LEARNED TO DIVE
by Isabella Dawson
I learned how to dive at 25 years old.
This weekend we celebrated my younger sister’s birthday with a trip to Anna Maria Island. We rented a gorgeous coastal house and planned a weekend of relaxation and fun by the pool. Then, I did something that had intimidated me in my childhood.
It was a mental block that had followed me into adulthood, the fear of diving into water. You may scoff and think: this is ridiculous, but this is something I have never imagined to accomplish, let alone try to do.
The pool games started and ‘categories’ of course had to be played, everyone began to wonder why I was jumping in after people like a sprawled out maniac rather than diving in to tag them. Well, because I’ve never learned how to dive.
After some mild peer pressure and encouragement, with everyone showing off how they were able to dive, I thought, “This is it, I will try to dive.” I started in the shallow end on the steps, doing little jumps to get comfortable putting myself headfirst in the water. But then, when I stood up on the edge of the pool, I physically couldn’t make myself do it. Looking down in the water I could only think of what could go wrong: how I was probably going to get water up my nose and in my mouth and smack my belly and legs on the water’s surface. But, the relentless need to face this fear persisted in me.
So I continued practicing in the shallow end. Eventually, I started getting comfortable with the fact that I wouldn’t die going headfirst into the water. As soon as I felt an inkling of courage, I hoisted out of the pool, walked over to the edge of the deep end, and I dove in.
And I fucking did it.
I felt like a little kid when I burst up through the water with a wide smile on my face, everyone cheering for me. It reminded me of going to the pool when I was young and telling my mom, “Watch this!” and then doing something I thought was really cool to get her to say a (probably very exaggerated for the underwhelming thing I was doing) “Good job, Honey!” I couldn’t believe I did it. This had been something that I had feared and desperately failed to brush off when brought up by others in the past, desperately trying to play casual, like I just didn’t want to learn. But over the weekend, I became obsessed with conquering this fear, alongside margaritas, corn hole tournaments, and soaking in the hot tub that is.
I dove into this pool approximately 20 times. And let me tell you, it wasn’t smooth sailing every time. I have the bruises speckled on my legs to prove it, many belly flops and nose fulls of water occurred. It became a running joke that I was training for something, Made even funnier when I shared that I had woken up with a slight sense of dread like, “Damn, I have to dive today.” Because now that I had done it, I couldn’t let myself fall back into the fear of it. Like how when you haven’t been to an amusement park in a long time you get so nervous to ride the huge rollercoaster, but then you do it and you remember how exhilarating it is.
The reason I am writing about this is because 1) I am proud of myself for doing something I have never had the courage to do, and 2). To encourage someone else to do something that has always scared them but they’ve wanted to accomplish. It can be something as silly as learning how to dive as an adult, or maybe something way bigger. It felt good to have that anticipatory sort of scared feeling in my stomach, and it felt good to want to succeed in something new. Even though I may still have a slight trepidation about plunging my lanky six-foot body into the air and down smoothly into the water, I feel at this moment that when I put my mind to something, the only thing that could stop me from accomplishing it is my own fear holding me back.
To a long summer of diving into swimming pools, Isabella
LOVE LETTER TO TRADER JOE’S SEAWEED SNACKS
by Rachel Loring
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Or a fall’s day
Or a winter’s day
Or, perhaps, a spring day?
A midday snack, a nighttime treat
My fingers, sticky with teriyaki seasoning
Oh, Trader Joe’s Seaweed snack, I want you every second of every day
You stick to my lips like a kiss from a lover Crispy, flaky, flecks of green
An eight-pack is never enough
Take my 3.49
Take my soul
Take my heart
Let me unwrap you
Devour you
I love you Trader Joe’s seaweed snacks
The most al-lure-ing traits of the signs
SO, YOU’RE HOOKED.
You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings—and yet here you are, baited, tangled in someone’s line, deepdiving their birth chart. Ever wonder why? Blame the stars. Or better yet… the hook they used to reel you in.
The hook: reckless confidence. They texted first, kissed you midsentence, then left you wanting more. You hate it (you love it).
AQUARIUS
The hook: beautiful disinterest. You mistook aloof for enigmatic. Now you're three playlists deep and still not sure if they like you.
You didn’t notice them memorizing your coffee order… until it showed up just right.
LIBRA
The hook: electric restlessness. They said they don’t believe in labels—and suddenly you didn’t either.
The hook: effortless harmony. They matched your vibe so perfectly, you started wondering whose laugh was whose.
The hook: slow burn. No fireworks, no drama—just the soft, steady ache of someone you can't stop thinking about.
The hook: detached devotion.
The hook: double vision. One minute, soulmate. Next minute, stranger. And you still text back.
PISCES
The hook: sweet confusion. They made zero sense—and that was half the charm.
The hook: precision compliments. They said one nice thing— exactly right—and you’ve been glowing ever since.
The hook: radiant warmth. They lit up the room—and somehow made you feel like the reason why.
The hook: emotional x-ray. They never pried. Still, they saw straight through you (and you liked it).
FIND ME HERE
by Melanie Blatt
find me here when the sun bakes bright and the sand so hot it burns the kids and mothers flock the thirsty teens yearn find me here when the clouds shine and the sun kisses the ground people pack up to leave the waves are the only sound
find me here when i become invisible absent of artificial light the moon watches me but there’s nobody in sight
find me here when the rain spits on sand and clouds turn grey people are frantic and umbrellas fly away find me here stoic and unmoving right at the waters edge eyes searching for ships and thinking of words gone unsaid find me here flush flecked cheeks and nose golden brown lips chapped and closed because when i’m here i need not make a sound
THE PUBLIC SQUARE
AN UNSOLICITED ENDORSEMENT
by Hallie Cain
“Fish” can mean a lot of things. In dating, it means love is a dime a dozen. There are so many you’ve yet to meet! In my diet, it refers to the one group of animals I still consume, though I do feel really bad about it. In cards, it follows “go” as a way to say, “Nice try, loser.”
But in the queer community (historically the drag community), “fish” refers to a queen or noncisgendered woman who passes for a cis woman. Obviously derived from a questionable description of female anatomy… but in any case, when I hear the word “fish” this is what I think of now. While ‘fish’
may apply more so to drag queens than cis-passing trans women, it brought me to think about that “TQ+” in LGBTQ+. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately.
On the day of his inauguration, the president of the United States made a point to announce that from then on, our government would officially recognize only two genders, in accordance with the sex we were assigned at birth. That day, I was scared for the trans, non-binary, and intersex people in my community. I still am, and I’ll continue to be until we elect leaders who care about their safety and joy as much as that of cis, white, heterosexual
men. All this to say, the Democratic primary for the New York City mayoral election takes place on June 24th. The deadline to register is June 14th, and I encourage you to do so. Here’s the link.
https://vote.nyc/page/register-vote
And I’ll make my own endorsement for a candidate that seems to truly care about trans people, queer people, really all people. Zohran Mamdani is by far the best hope we’ve got.
Because I know, there’s an inherent fishiness to most politicians––but not in the queer sense.
AN INTERVIEW WITH MY DAD—AQUACULTURIST, ENTREPRENEUR, AND COOLEST GUY EVER
by Brenna McWha
Aquaculture is the practice of farming aquatic plants and animals, similar to how agriculture farms terrestrial crops and livestock. It involves breeding, rearing, and harvesting fish, shellfish, plants, and other aquatic organisms in controlled environments like ponds, tanks, or cages.
Q: How did you discover your interest in aquaculture?
A: When I was a kid, my mom took me to Palisades Amusement Park in New Jersey. They had one of those games where you throw a ping pong ball to try to win a fish, and I was immediately drawn to it. I won the fish, brought it home, and learned how to take care of it. I got an aquarium and tended to the fish, learning how to keep it alive and well. That was when I first realized that aquatic life was something that really interested me.
Q: How did you decide that you wanted to pursue a career in aquaculture?
A: Once I was nearing the time of high school graduation, my mom sat me down in our kitchen and brought out a big book of different majors that were taught in colleges all across the country. She asked me what I wanted to do, and my immediate reaction was something in nature. The first thing we found in that book was a forestry school, so we went and toured a place near Lake Placid.
Once I realized there were way too few girls in forestry school, I decided to look at some different options. When I really thought about what my passion was, it felt natural to say that it was fishing, and my interests in that area. Up until that point, I didn’t know this was something I could actually study in school. So when I saw an aquaculture program offered at the Florida Institute of Technology (FIT) in Jensen Beach,
Q: Did moving to Florida, especially a place like Jensen Beach that is surrounded by so much water, change your perception of aquatic life?
A: It didn’t necessarily change my perception of aquatic life, but it did help to shape my hobbies and how I spent my time in the water. Instead of fishing all the time like I did when I was up north, I discovered surfing.
Pictures of Ed surfing off the East Coast of Florida, during his college days at FIT.
For a while there I looked like Jeff Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, with my sun-bleached hair and perpetual tan. Being in school though and learning all of these amazing things about the water around me really affirmed that I was on the right career path. Being miserable working odd jobs through college, like roofing and cashiering at the gas station, also made me super grateful for my ability to work in nature and be out on the water.
Q: How did you start your various aquaculture businesses?
A: Well, soon after I graduated FIT I got an opportunity to work with a clam farming company that had a hatchery and nursery in the Indian River Lagoon. I learned the trade there, and then later was tasked with starting up a clam farm for a larger company with the expertise I had learned. Eventually, I knew I had to move on and went to work with my good friends, Charlie and Bruce, who helped give me the guidance and trust to start building up my own business. They told me, “Once you go on your own, you’re never gonna work for anyone else again” - and they were right.
for clams and oysters. I also started Orchid Island Shellfish Company to farm and sell clams, which meant I could grow, harvest, pack, and sell shellfish all on my own. In 2006, I opened a fish market on the adjoining property of our packing plant, and designed it in the same style as the Florida cottage that I had recently built for my mom. It gave a certain cohesiveness to my work life and my home life.
Q: What is your favorite part about your job?
“Once you go on your own, you’re never gonna work for anyone else again”
it for aquatic restoration purposes. It’s incredibly fulfilling that my role is to cultivate something, and take it through each step of its lifespan.
Q: Any parting wisdom to add to those who are wanting to pursue their passions?
A: The people around you can make or break you. I couldn’t have done any of this without the people who believed in me along the way. Make sure to surround yourself with people you trust and respect, and always pay forward the good fortune that others give to you.
By 1998, I had my own business, Aqua Gems Farms, that was a packing plant
A: I love that almost every day it’s part of my job to get on a boat and be out on the water. I also love the processes related to my job. I think it’s amazing that I can take a small clam seed, plant it in the river, and eventually harvest it to either sell it in the market or use
Top: Indian River Seafood Market. Bottom: Ed’s mother’s cottage.
Top: Ed giving Emeril Lagasse and his TV crew a tour of the packing plant.
Middle & Bottom: A typical work day for Ed, diving with his crew to harvest clams from the Indian River Lagoon.
FRIDAY NIGHT FISH FRY
by Alissa Donovan
Carrie Bradshaw once said, “In New York, life is what happens when you’re waiting for a table.” I argue that the same is true in Wisconsin during Friday night fish fry season (i.e. Lent).
Let me set the scene: it’s Friday night in small-town Wisconsin (already mentioned, but bear with me), and you are waiting with your family for a table at the local bar and grille. The air is a perfect mixture of lingering cigarette smoke, greasy food, and spilled beer. Three-quarters of the town is huddled around the bar waiting for a table, and the other quarter is behind the bar serving the cheap beer and brandy old-fashioned. You are pressed between a wood-paneled wall and a pull tab dispenser, trying to maintain a conversation over the sound of echoing voices and the radio playing the hits. You run into three people from your high school, and your parents run into two people they know from work. The menu options are limited to: cod dinner, perch dinner, and a fish sandwich.
And there is nowhere in the world you would rather be.
Although the tradition is a direct response to the dietary restrictions imposed on Catholics during the forty days of Lent (no meat on Fridays, but apparently fried fish is encouraged),
to many Wisconsin families, fish fry is a weekly tradition year-round.
A proper fish dinner is made up of two to three pieces of fried fish (today it’s usually cod, but sometimes you will have the option for lake perch or walleye), a choice of potato (French fries, baked potato, etc.), coleslaw, tartar sauce, and a lemon wedge. In northern Wisconsin, this meal is accompanied by a piece of untoasted, buttered rye bread and a slice of raw onion. Heaven.
My parents trade fish fry recommendations around the community like baseball cards. In the name of being good Catholics, they endlessly judge anyone who dares to give a bad recommendation. To my family, restaurants are scored for their tartar sauce (utilizing butter pickle relish instead of dill is an immediate disqualification), breading style (breading that is too thick is another immediate disqualification), and quality of the brandy old fashioneds (making a brandy old fashioned from a pre-mix, you guessed it… immediate disqualification). Bonus points are awarded for salad
bars, soup du jour options that exceed clam chowder, and creative potato choices (i.e., cheesy hashbrowns). Ambiance is not a part of the equation, as almost all restaurants serving fish fry are more or less the same: wood paneling, abundant taxidermy decor, dim lighting, and clear plastic plates.
Although the food is great and will always make my mouth water just at the thought, it is truly the social aspect of fish fries that makes these dinners so special. When an entire town has the same dinner plans, the wait time for tables can be shockingly long. But the time we spent huddled around a corner of the bar waiting for our table becomes, in a way, more cherished than the meal itself. Uninterrupted quality time over seven-dollar cocktails becomes a weekly, generational tradition that has survived even as we move away, grow older, and get far too busy. Friday nights were moments of quality time without any distraction: nobody is scanning a menu because we already know the four menu options by heart, and nobody is looking at their phone because there is never any reception at the bar. On these weekly occasions, we can easily connect as a family and bump into friends doing the same. I will always cherish these simple meals and will always request them when I fly home. And while others complain when the hostess gives an hour wait time, I’m secretly pleased.
THINGS I'VE BEEN FISHING FOR LATELY
by Kiley Parrish
My will to cook
She left in November and hasn’t been seen since.
A little unsolicited praise
I don’t need it, but if you happen to be thinking something nice about me, go ahead and say it. Loudly. In my face.
A hobby that makes me forget I have a phone
Or at least one that doesn’t require a niche Pinterest board and $60 worth of supplies.
Someone whose idea of flirting isn’t reacting to my Instagram Story
Thank you for the ego boost, 27-year-old man who probably doesn’t have a 401(k) plan.
Friends who are available, fun, and live within 6 miles
Scheduling a hangout shouldn’t feel like coordinating a NATO summit.
A fullfilling job and salary Dreaming too big?
A weekend that feels like a break, not a punishment
I don’t want to “catch up on laundry.” I want to forget what a sock is.
An email that doesn’t start wtih “just following up.” Let me breathe for real.
A bathroom mirror that doesn’t feel like it’s plotting my downfall
Always the most humbling experience.
TOP FIVE WHALES
by Rachel Loring
I love a good whale. They are by far the least appreciated sea creature— since everyone and their mothers just LOOOOVE dolphins (read: sexual predators of the ocean). Whales are lacking in love, and so today, I will rank my favorite. Also, big thanks to Whale & Dolphin Conservation USA and World Wildlife Fund for providing me with lots of fun whale facts to share.
3. BLUE WHALE
World Wildlife Fund calls narwhals the unicorn of the sea, which is so very cute. They’re known for their giant tooth, which actually has up to 10 million nerve endings inside. Talk about a toothache. I relate to
5. PORPOISE
Despite what you may think, porpoises are sort of technically whales. Hey, at least they’re not dolphins (read: sexual predators of the ocean). They are the same group as the whales you know and love, which is the cetacean group. Porpoises are similar to dolphins, but have smaller mouths and snouts and tend to be a little rounder than dolphins, which does add to their cuteness factor, thus landing them in 5th place.
Oh, what’s that? Only the to have ever lived on Earth. are sick af and give me every time I see them or They are baleen whales, have those cool mouths little fish, zooplankton, loved baleen whales. Here us.whales.org eats over 3,000 pounds their calves can drink each day, and vessel
1. BALUGA WHALE
Baluga whales are my ride or die. I love Baluga whales so much. They look like underwater angels, and their little squishy heads are so cute. They are known as the canary of the sea because they are very expressive and vocalize a lot. They are one of only two species of cetacean that can
the biggest creature Earth. Blue whales me an existential crisis or remember them. whales, which means they mouths that filter in small zooplankton, and krill! As a child I Here are some fun facts us.whales.org pounds of krill every day, drink 200 liters of milk and the major blood vessel of the blue whale’s
THE DEPTHS
by Rachel Williams
I’m emerging from the depths
Or am I?
Are the depths my home?
A breath
Like a whale
Or a dolphin
Blowing from their blowhole
Just to return
To the shadows
Is that where I live?
Where Oh Lord
Do I Go
SOUNDS OF THE OCEAN
SOLIVAGANT
AQUARIUM RAINBOW FISH
a playlist of disney ocean songs & finding nemo ambiance
(adj.) wandering alone a playlist of frequencies & levitating ambiance for perusing an aquarium
a playlist of rhythmic jazz tunes to shake your tail to
