How early is too early in the semester to take a break from Swarthmore?
This is a trick question, the answer, of course, being never.
After a week of experiencing “Slumdog Millionaire” style flashbacks to last spring every time we were forced to walk through Parrish, avoiding Sharples as avidly as Nathan Miller avoids students, we two authors decided that taking the Megabus to New York to see Mitski and Lucy Dacus was a much needed act of emotional catharsis (if you haven’t already heard of these sirens of the indie-rock scene and enjoy either A) songs to imagine smashing your ex’s belongings to, B) songs to sing in the middle of the woods under a full moon, or C) songs to cry to on public transit, consider giving them a listen).
So this past weekend, with Clio’s high school friend Ana along for the ride, we set off on a whirlwind trip involving Hungarian pastries, goat sightings, questionably legal activities, and entirely too much public weeping. As two queer women who spent our entire weekend reading each other’s tarot and taking Enneagram tests, naturally our next step was — while riding back to Swarthmore at two in the morning, our first classes only seven hours away — to do some hardcore astrological analysis. This article was, unfortunately, inevitable. Below you can find each sign represented both as a moment from our weekend experience and as a Mitski song; if you disagree with your placement, remember first to check your moon and rising as well as your sun sign, and second, that astrology, much like this article, is mostly bullshit.
AQUARIUS: The six-foot-five giant shirtless man who was jumping up and down and screaming all the lyrics to Mitski’s closing number.
PISCES: The wide-eyed boy standing next to Ana, clearly at the concert by himself, who gasped whenever Mitski did anything and mouthed along to every song.
Anthem: “Thursday Girl”
ARIES: Ana very nearly starting a fight in the entrance line about the difference between King Princess and boygenius, calling boygenius “the holy trinity” and King Princess “an industry plant.”
TAURUS: The girl who left the crowd right before the set started and came back midway through the concert, stepping on at least ten people’s feet and carrying two massive orders of fries.
Anthem: “Come Into the Water”
GEMINI: The three of us in a 24-hour Ukranian restaurant after the concert, devouring plates of potato pancakes and pierogies and blintzes with raspberry sauce, charging Amal’s phone and laptop, and doing tarot readings on the table. Alternately (because Geminis, of course, can never be just one thing), each of us independently choosing the exact same outfit to wear to the concert.
Anthem: “Why Didn’t You Stop Me?”
CANCER: The three of us fully sobbing at the beginning and end of Lucy Dacus’ set.
Anthem: “Class of 2013”
LEO: Mitski slapping her own ass onstage in front of 5,000 people.
Anthem: “Francis Forever”
VIRGO: Us bringing two absurdly giant backpacks on this trip, not doing any of the work we’d brought, and being forced to carry those backpacks throughout the concert.
LIBRA: The three of us walking around Columbia and Barnard’s campuses and feeling feral.
Anthem: “Me and My Husband”
SCORPIO: Mitski flipping the entire crowd off during “Drunk Walk Home.”
Anthem: “My Body’s Made of Crushed Little Stars”
SAGITTARIUS: A concertgoer yelling “SARAH LAWRENCE WHERE YOU AT?” into the crowd and absolutely nobody answering.
Anthem: “Drunk Walk Home”
CAPRICORN: The elaborate meals Amal’s grandmother fed us while we stayed with her in Yonkers, NY.
Anthem: “Lonesome Love”