Staff
Co-Editors
Joshua Cox & Megan Wix
Web Development
Benjamin Davis
Chloe Jackson
Moss Grummon
Devon Meeker
Copy Staff
Pan Deines
Piper Scherr
Lilli Black
Analie Pambrun-Carnes
Layout Staff
Valeria Moreno
Emir Pirija
PR Staff
Spenser Lamphear
Caine Ryan
Megan Radley
Julia Freudenberger
Art Staff
Tatum Huegel
Roman Di Glulio
Ellie White
Kate Clark
Letter From The Editors
dear lovers of breakfast,
we hope that this issue of quarterlife is a lovely companion to your morning cup of joe/tea/juice/whatever else you wake yourself up with!
our wonderful staff has spent many early mornings (and late nights) toiling over this zine, and it is as refreshing and exciting as a cold glass of orange juice or your favorite NPR show.
incorporate quarterlife into your morning routine, plate your bacon and eggs into the shape of a smiley face, and watch the sunrise over a new day!
listen to the lovely playlists, pore over the wonderful art and writing that whitman students have crafted for your early morning aesthetic
and don't forget--breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
warm hugs,
megan & joshua
Lucky Eden
- Listen Over Breakfast
Joao Garcia
- Confessional
Calen Romig
- If Alone was a Pastry
- Kitchen
Benjamin Davis
- Over Breakfast
- Sunny Side-Up
Emir Pirija
- Morning Brew
John Bannon
- Contemplation
Coco Leusner
- Toothpaste and Orange Juice
Pan Deines
- Ode to my 10 am chocolate croissant from Cleve Cafe
- A Chef's Dream
Sonia Burns
- Time Slips Away
Henry Priebe
- Morning Tea
JRB (Jack Bingaman)
- The Morning After
Lane Lallana
- Sun, rise.
Aidan Durant
- Dying in Bed in the Morning
Ella Yuen
- Untitled
Faith Chung
- Bread Cat
Joshua Cox
- Conversation Over Breakfast
Spenser Lamphear
- PNW Breakfast
Hanne Jensen, Karah Kemmerly, Will Greg
- Diner of Worldly Ambitions
Listen Over Breakfast
Side A
1. Pumpkin - The Regrettes
2. Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson
3. Maple Syrup - The Backseat Lovers
4. Cigarettes and Coffee - Otis Redding
5. Dreams - Japanese Breakfast
6. Coffee (Live in LA) - beabadoobee
Side B
1. Ham 'N' Eggs - A Tribe Called Quest
2. Werms - Love Brunch
3. Strawberries & Cigarettes - Troye Sivan
4. sugar - my bloody valentine
5. Strawberry Jam - COIN
6. Coffee & TV - Blur
Lucky Eden
confessional
Joao Garcia
A Chef's Dream
Pan Deines
Time Slips Away
Sonia Burns
Elegant Title
Author
untitled
Ella Yuen
Bread Cat
Faith Chung
Conversation over Breakfast
Joshua Cox
PNW Breakfast
Spenser Lamphear
If Alone was a Pastry
Calen Roming
The aloneness that I craved was so sweet, and my sweet tooth so great, that I would only allow a
special few to share it with me.
Lately, it’s like the sweetness has been left out in the heat for too long, and has become sickly
with the summer sun. I’ll call up anyone, just so that I don’t have to eat alone.
Kitchen
Calen Roming
So much happens in a kitchen.
That’s what a kitchen is for, really.
For things to happen.
For living and growing and sunshine and tomatoes and music and softness. But also for yelling
and spills and clattering and knives used with too much caution.
Men laughing together, women hugging.
A dinner party, dim lamp light and chattering and exclamations of joy and wine stains on lips.
Delirious words of adoration.
A startled cry when he finds them together.
Two boys getting ready for a birthday, getting more sprinkles on each other than on the cake.
A whirlwind of activity before the holidays.
Crying as she’s cooking dinner and suddenly realizing that it’s not because of the onions.
Being too tired to wash dishes, so he does them for you, giving a gentle kiss from soapy hands.
Kids baking cookies for their mother, and delighting in the flour and the failure and the chocolate.
Friends singing along to the radio as they share pizza and stories and sit crossed legged on the
counter.
A mother rolling out cookies for her best friends’ sick son.
A big family, constantly happy and shouting and busy, tripping over the dog as they unpack their
groceries.
Siblings fighting over the last piece of pie.
The light from the refrigerator door, exposing how thin she really looks.
Recipes from years ago, stained with memories and saffron and vanilla.
Hungry little ones screaming their hate for peas.
A daughter learning from her father.
A son dancing with his lover.
Someone slowly sinking to the ground, back to the pain, spine twisted between the knobs of the
cabinet, hands shaking with fatigue, mind fogged with something that if it had a name it would
kill you.
To make something from nothing is an art, and this art is done best in the kitchen.
Over Breakfast
Benjamin Davis
Over breakfast,
I tell you the dew drops cling tighter to the grass;
Our forks and knives scuttle, crossing porcelain plates.
I comment on the dimming brightness of the sun.
How the flowers have grown so confused, weary, weak;
You, flipping the months old newspaper to the next page.
I insist that time has slowed,
That minutes stretch on toward eternity.
You, reaching for your coffee; once, twice,
Faintly grasped.
I confide in you that things don’t feel like they used to;
That I don’t feel like I used to.
You, sipping.
I say I miss this.
You, reading.
I, peering through dampened hands,
Insist, muffled, that I'm finally leaving tomorrow morning.
You, turning the page.
I, defeated, implore you to look at me.
You, dissipating,
So we can begin anew tomorrow.
God,
I'm over breakfasts.
Sunny Side up
Benjamin Davis
Dear Shining Sun,
Please rise above the eastern mountain crest,
And warm my frigid, raised skin with your
Nostalgic, morning amber rays.
And please, oh please!
Bring with you the wayward winds, fierce but fleeting,
To topple all that delays my deepest, sweetest dreams.
Bring with you the crystal waves.
So that they may distill essence into this vessel of my being,
And bring it back to abundant fruition.
Lastly,
Bring with you the scarlet, flickering ember,
So that it might rekindle my soul's desire.
Morning Brew
The Sun woke me up,
and it warms my body.
On the cusp from summer into autumn.
The robins chirp their cheerful songs,
and somewhere a black cat has made friends with a gray hare.
Their soft bodies know warmth.
Their soft bodies know each other
Somewhere, a boy is reading a novel.
About letters unsent,
and ashes that are reminders
of a once great flame.
There’s a smell of coffee.
Somewhere in the distance,
Across the Pacific.
It smells like home.
Emir Pirija
Comtemplation
John Bannon
Silence is as powerful as speaking.
Draw me to speak and I will, don't and I will be silent. Cut me and I'll scream; shoot me and I'll die; talk to me and I'll love you; smile at me and I'll cry.
Laugh at my face, streaked with tears, and tell me to meet you for breakfast. Sleep in and I'll make the table and dream about you there.
Leave me and I will be powerful alone.
Toothpaste and Orange Juice
Four out of five dentists do not recommend
Brushing your teeth with orange juice.
One says there’s too much sugar,
Another says the pulp gets caught in your teeth.
The other says it will stain,
And the last one just doesn’t like the taste.
But if I brush my teeth with toothpaste,
The orange juice tastes like shit.
So I’ll keep brushing my teeth with orange juice,
Because at least one dentist says it’s fine!
Coco Leusner
Ode to my 10 am Chocolate Croissant from Cleve Cafe
Pan Deines
I’ll introduce my friends to thee
And this is what I’ll say:
This croissant means a lot to me
And keeps me fed each day
My friends will pull me to the side
You just can’t love this pastry!
But thy gentle sweetness makes me high
And thy innards are so tasty.
I’ll remove thee from thy paper wrapping
I could not treat thee kinder,
To say I love thee would not be capping
Since the day we matched on Grindr.
And when thou art fully digested,
My heart doth fill with sorrow
But know our love cannot be tested:
For I’ll be back again tomorrow.
The Morning After
Somehow, someone taught me that love happens in the dark.
Someone told me–looking back, I think they whispered it, like it was some holy secret or perverse gossip–that romance is the moments of sparking heat in the blue-black of the night.
Love is what you can’t see, love is what falls in the cracks. Love, real love, not elementary crushes or middle school pining, is dangerously evil and addictive. Real love will make you feel
like a criminal. Real love is hot and sharp and dark, neon and shadow, sleazy and alluring.
I like to think that, actually, love happens the morning after.
Now, I won’t say that someone lied, but someone definitely misspoke, or maybe, whomever whispered it to me must have misheard the information somewhere along the line. Love can happen in the dark, in midnight meetings and careful covers and the passionately private corners that belong to only those who share them. Love can happen anywhere and everywhere.
But the night ends, and the Sun rises. People, unfortunately, do not keep steady orbits quite like Earth does.
I like to think that love is what remains. Love is the moments after the dark, the soft and calm and, let’s be honest, the slightly boring. Love, real love, if there is such a thing, is the leaky, watery light that careens its way through the blinds and spills onto the floor on sad autumn days.
JRB
Passion is what keeps lovers warm at night, when time is short and energy is high. Romance is what keeps them warm in the morning, when the day stretches out impossibly and waking up feels optional.
Love is light snoring, and determined halves of the bed, and mumbled “g’murn”s. Love is bedhead and squinted eyes and raspy voices. Love is “You’re warm, don’t move” and “You stole
the blanket last night” and “I had the craziest dream.” Love is “Do we have to get up?” and “Five more minutes” and “Okay, but only five, I have to shower.”
Love is finally waking up, making the bed, getting dressed. Love is taking turns in the bathroom and grumbling about laundry and knowing not to talk until a half hour has passed to account for non-early risers.
Love is coffee or tea made by someone else the way you like it. Love is light breakfasts because you get sick when you eat too much too early. Love is “I’ll see you later” and “Have a good day” and “Tell me when you get to work.”
Love is knowing you’ll have the night. Love is knowing you’ll have tomorrow morning, and the morning after, and the morning after.
sun, rise.
oh Sun,
rise with me,
over my head and heart
and awaken my soul.
rise, Sun,
like you were made
only to greet me
and
me,
alone.
Lane Lallana
Dying in Bed in The Morning
I saw with my eyes the small flake that was caught in my window screen, I had left the window open a little bit last night because I felt too small. The light from the sun made it melt into a droplet, I guess it was a few snowflakes. The air is too cold so I move under my blanket, but I cannot move. Instead, I move where I feel under my blanket and focus on my legs, I can move them barely. I feel the soft sand washed flannel against all parts of it. The hair gets caught and then unlatches, it gets caught again and tugs away from the direction it lays and something in my spine is activated. I can’t see anymore because it is dark out, but now I feel the softness across the entirety of my back, spreading out and parting with the viscosity of magma, creeping around the edges of my body. My nose is suddenly cold again and I can hear the sound that the snow outside makes when it quiets everything else. The air is frozen, and I can’t see. I hear how the brook under the ice travels through the frozen air, it is angular. It hits me as a gentle plane passing through, perfectly straight. I am covered in sand and my nose is still cold, it must still be above the surface. I am falling backwards now through myself, and it feels like I will keep going until I have gone through all and looped back around again. My blanket covers all of me except my head and my nose is still cold, I am laying on a bed of ubiquitous grass and it is warm. The sky is dimming, it is freezing away, but I am still warm. I am still warm..
morning tea
Rays rise my body
But the boiling water raises
My spirits and mind
I feel connected
With those who taught me “just right”
And those who taught them
A brewing mirror
Shows a dreamer carrying hopes
Anchored by small things
Henry Priebe
Diner of World Ambitions
☕︎ ☕︎ Bevvies ☕︎ ☕︎
Hot mug of self affirmation……………………………………………...$8.75
(add shot of superiority complex for $2.00)
Cup of ‘I guess it could be worse’........................................................$4.25
Served lukewarm
A cure for lingering regret....................................................................$4.50
Enter the void of this shot-in-the-dark to forget whatever ails you
Prognosticators brew
Half empty………………………..……………………………$2.50
Half full……………………………………..…………………..$4.00
* * House Specialities * *
The ‘Clean Floor’...............................................................................$17.50
Is this the day you finally get your shit together and vacuum? This special spicy hash will leave you sweating but refreshed.
Laundry?...................................................$12.75 (quarters only)
Whether just wishing you had another shirt to wear, or risking running out of underwear, this clean and healthy option may not be what you want, but you know it’s what you need. **Allow at least 2 hours for extra drying cycles.**
What the hell is in the fridge?...........................................$13.50
This scramble of whatever savory bits we’ve got around will hit the spot after a long night out or fuel a grueling day
The ‘Tabletop Heroes’………………………….$20.00 per person
Please let your server know if your party plans to stay through lunch and dinner.
Hanne Jensen, Karah Kemmerly, Will Gregg
🍽 🍽 Breakfast Favorites 🍽 🍽
Long walk with an old friend…………………………………………….$13.95
Make it a short stack stroll……………….........…………….$6.95
A balanced media diet…………………………………....$10 even
Advance the cause of the righteous.............$12, paid in change
Journal entry…………………………………………………..$8.00
Extra salt….…………….………………………………………$1.89
Extra spice………………………………………………….....$2.00
⬭ ⬭ Omelettes ⬭ ⬭
In This Economy? ............................................................................$10 flat
Two hours of dead language study, unexpected nap, diced anxiety. Option of: sauce of boxed hair dye or clippings from the haircut you gave yourself that your roommate says looks great.
Class Crush……………………………………………..……$15.95
All your reading (all of it), dash of flannel, thick-cut daydreams, topped with your choice of unearned confidence or undeserved insecurity. Eye contact available upon request.
♨ ♨ On the Side ♨ ♨
Memento Mori………………………..………………MKT Price 🕱
Inside Joke……………………………………………………$5.00
Served for half the table.
One Single Egg……………………………………………....$1.99
A quarterlife rejection…………………………………..…….gratis
We all get old someday.