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

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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The Vulnerability of Sensitivity
The Vulnerability of Sensitivity
It seems that the most sensitive souls are able to find the most beautiful things about the world, but that sensitivity is a tremendous vulnerability...
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Read On

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

Whistles in the Night

There are whistles in the night here in Luling; sustained and shrieking tones, vaguely metallic, always as if from some impossible distance. Everyone assumes they come from the chemical plant, I’m sure. That’s why nobody knows what I’m talking about when I mention them. People tune these strange sounds out for a variety of reasons, all centered around the necessity of avoiding confrontation with the unspeakable. But popular opinion on their origin is immaterial in this case: what if these tones are not the sound of the plant itself, but the sound of some effect of, or even response to it? I can’t help but feel they constitute a warning, or worse, some supernatural version of “Taps.”

I find myself staying up late to listen to them.