We used to own stereos that lasted twenty-three years. Now we rent  drills designed to die in eleven months. This week: the subscription  economy as hostile architecture, planned obsolescence as business model,  the quiet rage of remembering when objects were built to outlast us.  Plus: a confessional about four hundred thirty-seven CDs and the shelf  that holds a life. Cynical. Practical. Ready to break something that was  designed to break anyway.

Episode 7: Why We Can't Have Nice Things

A show for the generation that learned freedom in food courts, that  practiced autonomy between Abercrombie Fitch Hot Topic, that knew the  specific, embodied thrill of being unsupervised in public space. We dig  into the mall as third space — fake, commercial, ours — the  commercialization of youth from obvious storefronts to invisible  algorithms, why teenagers no longer roam. We explore what we lost when  the mall died: not the pretzels, not the fountain, but the practice of  existing among strangers without a screen. Sharp commentary. Unexpected  tenderness. The Orange Julius you cannot get back.

Episode 6: The Mall Is a Graveyard I Miss

We text every day. We share memes, react with emojis, maintain the  fiction of closeness across years of physical absence. Yet we no longer  know if our friends are happy, lonely, or slowly drifting away. This  week: friendship in the age of constant connection, the exhaustion of  digital maintenance, the group chat as both lifeline prison. Plus: a  confessional about ghosting your oldest friends — not from malice, but  from the simple, devastating fact that you could not perform anymore.  Tender. Guilty. Uncomfortably honest.

Episode 5: The Friend Group Chat Autopsy

We are the last generation to remember when knowing where you were was a  skill you developed, not a service you subscribed to. This week: the  death of spatial memory, the humiliation of asking strangers for help,  and why getting lost might be the last truly rebellious act. Plus: a  confessional about deleting maps for a week and finding something  unexpected. Wanderlust. Anxiety. The open road. Welcome to Xennialist.

Episode 4: The Last Time We Asked for Directions

We were promised a house, a pension, and stability. We got student debt,  the gig economy, and a word — "adulting" — that exists because we  needed a term for performing adulthood without actually receiving it.  This week: the death of the middle-class roadmap, the false liberation  of the side hustle, and why doing everything right got us exactly  nowhere. Plus: a confessional that will make you feel less alone in your  overdraft. Bitter. Funny. Exhausted. Welcome to Xennialist.

Episode 3: We Invented Adulting and Immediately Regretted It

A mixtape was never casual. It had a reason. A recipient. A forty-minute  time limit and a handwritten J-card that explained everything you were  too scared to say out loud. This week on Xennialist: we walk through the  anatomy of a mixtape, interrogate the algorithm that replaced it, and  read a listener confession that will remind you what it felt like to be  loved in analog. If you've ever made someone a playlist and felt like it  meant nothing — this one's for you.

Episode 2: The Death of the Mixtape

We are the last kids to grow up analog and the first adults to live  digital. In this episode, we excavate the lost art of boredom, stare  into the machinery of influencer "authenticity," and ask the  uncomfortable question: what did we lose when the world got a  notification bell? Raw, comedic, and unapologetically Xennial. For  anyone who remembers when being unreachable was just called being alive.

Episode 1: The Last Analog Summer

Jeff Pavlisko (@xennialist) · Zencastr

Jeff Pavlisko (@xennialist)

A podcast about a Xennial navigating the shift from analog  childhood to digital adulthood. We explore nostalgia, modern society,  pop culture, influencer culture, and the humanity crises of our time —  A cautionary tale for the future generations or for anyone who remembers the before and is trying to survive the after.