The Swimmer


The pond in which I would begin my swim is called Menemsha, and is the second-westernmost body of water along the island’s southern shore. J.’s family has a house up the hill from it, and it was while I was staying there, six summers before, that I had decided that one day I would reenact a version of John Cheever’s short story ‘‘The Swimmer’’ by swimming across the entire length of the island, a 20-mile-long necklace of skinny fingers of land linking dozens of saltwater lakes and ponds, so many of them that when you look at a map, the coastline resembles something that’s been nibbled on by a family of mice.

A Brisk Swim Across Martha's Vineyard | Hanya Yanagihara
T Magazine, New York Times, February 4 2016


Photograph: George Steinmetz

What the fuck, Jann?

A great music center of the South? Pensacola? Seriously? What in God's name was Jann Wenner thinking?

How can I not remember ever having read this before? 

Photo: Baron Wolman | 1969