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WeWork

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WeWork

Article

WeWork is a recurring brand in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 2 times across 2 issues between March 17, 2025 and April 21, 2025. The archive places it in contexts such as “Soho WeWork location and all”; “it was starting to feel like a WeWork, the waiter tells Natasha”. It most often appears alongside Alex Auder, David, Lower East Side.

Metadata

  • Category: Brands
  • Mention count: 2
  • Issue count: 2
  • First seen: March 17, 2025
  • Last seen: April 21, 2025

Appears In

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

Here, There, Everywhere
March 17, 2025 · Original source
WHAT I DID Sunday, March 9 I’ve been here, there, everywhere but there’s been no conviction to it. Yes, yes, take me to the opera now. I don’t pretend to think the things I don’t believe, but you rewire your brain away from nihilism, you spend a few years working on this task, really, and when all is said and done, resuscitation complete, you find in its place… an alarming passivity. That can’t be right. This week, I’ll be drawing new conclusions. Lying in bed and David is saying “I think giving up drinking is the solution and I think I’m ready to do that and, I might also take up eastern meditation.” “We're doing all this shit because we’re insincere swindling motherfuckers, we have no beliefs, our only beliefs are pleasure,” David is also saying. And I’m saying uh uh. And now David is saying, “put that in your substack, put in ‘i think i'm going to take up eastern meditation as well.” And now he shows me all these photos of his strange friends from the strange Decentralized Networking Platform stuff, or maybe these are just friends from parties or maybe, really, there is not much difference. But the friends are wearing big T-Shirts and flipping each other off, and David introduces me to the friends in the images like a cast of characters in a movie, or maybe like you introduce people in Real Life. Here is M. Here is C. and I say I know, I know, I know who these people are but no, I haven’t seen the photos yet, and so I let him scroll. You should also know: the sun returned today. Monday, March 10 In my Dialectics of NightLife piece that the new-ish magazine asked me to write, I am not sure how much of it all to include. "I don't include things like throwing things across the room and screaming," I told the girl at a party last week when she asked me how to be intimate online. "The throwing things and screaming is the most interesting part though," she said, which is what people always say when I share a disturbing detail from my life as an example of something I don't write about. I read something recently that has been making me reconsider my approach. Not to the nightlife piece. The approach to El Salvador, more. The approach in general, really. I am intrigued by things because they are strange. I find myself in a lot of situations as such. I don't want to cast judgments - this is bad or, this is good. But I think too, one can say yes, this part is good and this part is bad but I am not here because of good or bad, I am here because I was intrigued because this is strange. You are pretending that you just woke up and found yourself here one day, lying in the palm grove, lying on bitcoin beach, surrounded by red light and zyn and mastic gum of the gods. And maybe you were just kind of placed here. In another sense, you kind of sought this out. In another sense, you exercised a tremendous amount of agency and borderline being a stalker sometimes to then find yourself where you are now. Once I arrived, I was asked to stay, and then what was there left to say? Yes, ok I suppose I will then. This among other things is why I would be easily indoctrinated into a cult. I am not at present, in a cult. I've tried my luck with a few, but nothing quite has made the cut. Not the cut of Drawing Me In. The cut of Qualifying As A Cult. I'm going to a crypto conference tonight, David tells me and as if by instinct, as if like a child, residual panic at being left behind, at being left all alone in the first spring breeze, knees tucked up to my chest, watching the sunset on the terrace and being struck in a visceral way by how much time I continue to have - as if all of this would be so bad I pipe right up: "can I come??" And David says "are you interested in {technical stuff i don't understand} and I say no but I'm interested in crypto culturally, for the El Salvador piece. The guy giving the lecture is wearing a shirt that says something like "hey nerds" "what's up nerds" something like that, but I forgot to write it down. Sometimes, these conferences are fun because there are lots of characters and drinks and sometimes sparkly little powders though I don't like to really take these but it's fun when others are. This conference is a real conference capital C though. Or, a "meet up”, they say. Soho WeWork location and all. Sugar free red bull and gatorade and pizza and all. There is no fun to be had here. And so we make our way all through shiny Nolita instead. Tuesday, March 11 The things I overhear begin the process of reconsidering all over again. You confess that the knee jerk reaction is one of possession over things you do not even want. You confess that you do not want to tell that story even if this particular story is one that has always been yours. We go to Tiny Bar, and then the Odeon. Earlier, it was like they were doing a character study in the things you overheard. Wednesday, March 12 I went to St Dymphna tonight, but I didn't hear a single reading and I didn't watch Heat (1995) when I got home, even though David had it playing on the projector, even though he kept on playing scenes of significance over and over and over again. This is me and you, he kept saying, when some girl in some house with some glistening pool in Los Angeles calls her husband names like gambling addict and child the years keep passing by, and then the husband screeches off through Hollywood in a nice sleek car. It's not us, really, but this wouldn't be so bad. I want to party beautifully forever, David said a while ago. The key part being: beautifully. Maybe this is how people party in Los Angeles. This isn't really how people party in New York. And I should have gone to Poetry Project, to the after party for the Anne Imhoff show which I am guilty to admit I never saw in the first place and now it's too late, to the club, maybe. It's not that I worry what I missed, it is just that time passes faster when I am not here there everywhere, and I like it best when time slows down. In my dreams, my consciousness can take one second and turn it into one year. Here are the songs tonight. And the shoes are the shearling style cowboy boots my grandmother gave me from her closet last thanksgiving. Love For Sale - Tony Bennett, Lady Gaga
Inline links: https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!4_QR!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F600419e6-7163-4b25-809e-9aeb40bb7501_1179x658.jpeg, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!v5mw!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F84a58846-8c13-47c2-82bf-a7773d53ae96_1179x653.jpeg, Love For Sale - Tony Bennett, Lady Gaga
The Strangest Hotel in New York
April 21, 2025 · Original source
Sunday, April 13 After a day spent on your phone, you do wake up and it feels all gray. Sun, water, in my dreams I was swinging on a rope swing into a swimming hole in the jungle over and over and over again - a little ominous in energy but it was certainly very beautiful there. Anyways, you can bring things back into sharp focus if you latch onto momentum and if you view inertia with disdain and disregard. It's not too complicated. You go in circles sometimes, but this does not have to continue. A return to the pace of things: an hour of walking briskly on the treadmill at an upscale corporate gym. Walk faster; and then thoughts move faster. Edit and publish the diaries I culled from the Internet this week. Gem Home for trout toast. They had to get rid of the open seating plan because it was starting to feel like a WeWork, the waiter tells Natasha. Now it feels like Vermont in Nolita. Nice and sweet. I am not too cynical even if it is candlelit at noon, which feels like some sort of cosplay in the context of Nolita. I take the F to the 7 to the Whitney Claflin show at Moma Ps1 in the evening. I've never been here before, and I like that the museum feels all cavernous. Someone tries to spit on me on the subway - avoided with ease. Darby is looking at the New York Review of Books shelf in the gift shop. Is there anything you think David would like, I ask. Renaissance poetry, she suggests but she’s kind of half hearted with it. Nothing really speaking to me on the shelves. I’ll invent my own polemic. I just have to conjure some convictions, first. After the exhibitions, which are a little bit of Rookie Mag and Things Culled From Tumblr and Darby is telling me about the theory of The Internet where it all originated from Tumblr - after the Whitney Claflin and James Turrell (my favorite James Turrell) and Sol Lewitt in the basement boiler room and Yto Barrado in the lawn - we take the train home. Lavender and vodka. I meet David at a strange hotel. Cop cars are swarming the building. I wonder if it’s because of the helicopter that went down, David says, but the helicopter was days ago and I am getting the creeps and, I want to go inside, I say. My grandmother gave me some of her collection of Samuel Beckett books this weekend. In the books, all they do is wait and wait and wait. Missed happenstances. Restless. I’m not good at all this waiting. The books are in my bag and I fall asleep with a few back covers folded over on my lap. It’s a friend of a friend's hotel room. David’s been Co-Working. I’ve been sleeping. The windows are tall and glass and the room gets dark naturally. Fades with the sun. David doesn’t want renaissance poetry from Moma Ps1 for his birthday. David wants a mask of Bacchus like the one at my parents house and an 88 dollar overnight stay at the 88 Allen Street Hotel. Monday, April 14 The issue is, I am so disconnected from nature here. The wilderness, yes, but my own sense of instinct too. Yeah, intellectualize it. Drag it out step by step by step and then there are logical conclusions I can live with. Though, if removed from cold hard fact I would know very little here at all. I know nothing viscerally here. Sometimes, elsewhere, I can know things intrinsically from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. New York is good, though, and there is nowhere else for me, anyways. I woke up this morning and my whole body popped. It’s hard to explain it. Like my muscles all revolted and then I couldn’t really move. It’s not the worst thing in the world except I know this would not have happened if I was somewhere else. I am rock solid certain that this would only have happened here. So someone put a hex on me. And then I almost forgot that desperation reeks. I spend all day acting boxy and square and off-putting in my many Academic Classes on account of not being able to really move. Every time I start to feel nauseous about the future considering this sort of bodily degradation beginning at Age Twenty Four Years Old, I try to remind myself that I have probably just been hexed. My friend in Witch School sends me some guides for lying down realignment. She calls me. You can join my cult, she says. Too many cults, and none of seem very all immersive. If I am going to do this, I would like to go all in. David is back to coworking at his friends hotel and so I march my way through the Lower East Side for some company after school. One cannot wallow alone. They have a heating pad at the hotel. They have a Lush Ice Vape. David’s friend says that he’s been fasting and praying a lot. There’s a permanently skewed gold framed painting of a gold chalice of flowers and some thick tan curtains at the hotel. The curtains are pulled open so we can all see outside. David brought opera binoculars. I brought swedish candy. David goes to get some chinese food so I settle in to write, but he returns with his friend sooner than I would have liked. “Bro,” David says, “I might go get the Penthouse Balcony King Suite Deluxe.” “Hotel employees are better friends than 99% of people’s friends,” David’s friend says. David does get the suite, and so we decamp upstairs. The curtains are more ornate in this room, and the aura is more creepy. Everything is funnier when you’re sober, David’s friend is saying. Something about coming face to face with your own absurdity. Something about how when you’re drunk, you think your’ madness makes sense. Two bathrooms and the shared patio and the love seat and the dog bed and David is saying that instead of dinner, instead of ever wasting money on a dumb dinner again, we should splurge on staycations instead. I brush my teeth with the hotel provided tooth brush and I sit on the floor of the erratically tiled shower. I don’t totally get the bit and I feel bad because it’s frivolous but, I do love hotels. Suspended circumstance The safest and most secure sleep. Float me out somewhere I’ve never been before. It’s good for girls with night terrors like me. Tuesday, April 15 David stayed up all night making a borderline satanic short film. I think I’m manic, he says, which is probably why he got us the stay in the strange hotel in the first place. You’re not manic, I say. Not manic, like I need lithium, David says. Last night I was compulsively reading these decentralized networking protocol white papers, David says. David starts telling me about an opera he wants to see. Something about The Only Monotheistic Pharaoh. I walk home and I stop at Whole Foods to buy some Clear Headed Kombucha and Chicken Sausage and Cymbiotika Vitamin C. I feel really terrible. I make a list of affirming statements. I FEEL AMAZING. I HAVE NEVER FELT BETTER. I take a nap. Wakeup and, David and his friend are on the phone downstairs talking about a startup. Eavesdropping and, it sounds like they’re about to independently invent the concept of the Male Influencer. “Imagine believing yourself to be cunning and self-serving, and you're doing so by working for [redacted],” David is saying. “Anyone can learn to code,” David is saying. Tune out, tune in, and now they’re inventing the Vending Machine. They’re talking about Jon Raffman and Petra Cortright. They’re talking about LA. Evil Women. Tax Day. “Girls already invented being an influencer eons ago,” I tell David, when he gets off the phone. David pauses for a moment. “I think girls and guys invented being influencers at about the same time.” Friday, April 18 I haven't been able to fill in the blanks of the past few days. Becoming: utterly consumed. It was deeply unpleasant, honestly. I feel bad for me on Monday, thinking it would be easy to wrap up this thing I was working on and then almost losing my whole head instead. I stayed up all week. All through the very peaks of the night and then past that, even. At first it was all disjointed, but now it is making more sense. And the good news is, good for art and life - I can intuit things again! WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Monday, April 21 From 8pm - late at Night Club 101 — I will be reading in the Domino Reading Series, alongside Jess Wolfe, Dani Narins, Ruby Hoffman, Gordon Glasgow, Jade Wootton, and Matthew Gasda. Gallipony x Solar System DJ set after the reading.
Inline links: https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!gyqH!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F96641088-5f01-40d2-883f-cf79d91add2c_616x798.png, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!CQwj!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa8402160-9491-40d2-95e0-9dee6e25a00a_852x318.png, borderline satanic short film, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!sXNu!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2692d191-2567-4b52-ab49-e81eacdf528d_730x832.png, Night Club 101, Domino Reading Series

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