Jeremy Martin

Jeremy Martin

About Jeremy
Hello, my name is Jeremy Martin, and I'm a wanderer, writer, and whatever else day-to-day life requires. I am fascinated by place, by the journey, by the diversity of ideas and experiences in the world....
Projects
I try to always be working on something for myself: projects like this aren't about producing anything in particular, they're a form of play, play is a way of exploring, and the best part of...

About The Restless Lens

Welcome to The Restless Lens, where you’ll find my personal interests, inspirations, ideas, and work, all outside the walls of social media; independent, strange, eclectic, typically mediocre, and completely un-monetizable, this is the way the internet should be.

My Writing

Visions of the Apocalypse
Visions of the Apocalypse
I have, for many years now, frequently found myself held rapt by unexpected visions of the apocalypse. Upon a rooftop bar, for example, I will...
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The Eclipse
The Eclipse
This morning I've noticed that many accounts of yesterday's total eclipse contain a statement along the lines of "I was not prepared for how beautiful/spiritual/amazing...
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The Key and the String
The Key and the String
Addie and I are staying the month in a small and very lovely war-era Dutch row house, which our host generously gives us freedom to...
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A Brief Guide to My Emoji Usage
A Brief Guide to My Emoji Usage
I was sending someone a text message the other day and needed just the right emoji. The conversation was completely over by the time I...
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Interesting Links

Parlez-Nous A Boire
Parlez-Nous A Boire
One of my favorite songs in the world is “Parlez-Nous A Boire,” or “Let’s talk about drinking.” The title alone, which is also the first...
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Badass Women
Badass Women
It's painfully obvious to anyone paying attention that history tends to be a little (a lot), well, skewed toward the male side of things. All...
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Against Argument
Because there's no shortage of writing about politics (if thats still what we're calling it these days), I'm especially refreshed when I read a new and...
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Mapping Above and Below the City
Mapping Above and Below the City
If you're anything like me, its impossible to follow a set of stairs into any subway system without wondering how everything above ground interfaces with...
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Kill The Parking
Kill The Parking
Mexico City is ditching parking requirements for new development. Why in the world would one of the most traffic-congested cities in the world (a ranking...
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The Eastern Capital
The Eastern Capital
Here's a vaguely architectural project that impinges upon the more pleasant periphery of the artistic: imagine a project to rebrand China as a cultural rather...
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No Home Go Home
No Home Go Home
Words paired with sketches my using tea left ink, entitled "No Home Go Home / Go Home No Home." What could be more satisfying these...
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Read On

Expression, curation, and exploration. Check out specific categories in the menu above, or the full stream below.

Parlez-Nous A Boire

One of my favorite songs in the world is “Parlez-Nous A Boire,” or “Let’s talk about drinking.” The title alone, which is also the first line in the song, is enough to get it on my list, but the next line is “and not about marriage.” A great old good-natured pessimistic Cajun song, lyrically speaking, and with all the whinnying fiddles, driving beat, and archaic harmonies to boot. The kind of song old enough to have no author, but rather seems to have accreted into reality long ago in a community and place that now seems very far away. My favorite version is Sweet Crude’s version here. They take this great up tempo folk song and turn it into a weirdly haunting barnburner.

I’ve seen it all…

Well, it’s Ninth and Hennepin

All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes

And the moon’s teeth marks are on the sky

Like a tarp thrown all over this

And the broken umbrellas like dead birds

And the steam comes out of the grill like the whole goddamn town’s ready to blow

And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos

And everyone is behaving like dogs

And the horses are coming down Violin Road and Dutch is dead on his feet

And all the rooms they smell like diesel

And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here

And I’m lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway

And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat

And no one brings anything small into a bar around here

They all started out with bad directions

And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear

One for every year he’s away, she said

Such a crumbling beauty

Ah, there’s nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won’t fix

She has that razor sadness that only gets worse

With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by

And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet

Till you’re full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin

And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen

And I’ve seen it all

I’ve seen it all through the yellow windows of the evening train

– Tom Waits, “9th & Hennepin,” one of my favorite poems, which came to mind today when I crossed 9th Street, while driving down Hennepin, in downtown Minneapolis.

To be pursued but never attained

…until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned…until there are no longer first class and second class citizens of any nation…until the color of a man’s skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes…until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race…until that day, the dream of lasting peace and world citizenship and the rule of international morality will remain but a fleeting illusion, to be pursued but never attained.

– Halie Selassie, in an address to the United Nations, 1963.

I thought we could all use the reminder.

Small Towns

Overheard from a lone-lamp lit open window, while walking past, a tired voice, on the phone, “hey, are you still driving?” leaks into the dusk, carried along with the scent of grass clippings in the street, and it’s a plea and a demand and an admission of defeat all at …