You should not pay for wifi on a flight to browse Facebook

On a Monday morning flight to New Orleans, I am watching the woman ahead of me scroll Facebook. I have a perfect vantage point right over her shoulder. Caption of a pic of generic kids standing in a generic yard: “It’s always bottomless play day around here.. never bottomless mimosas! [crying emoji].” She switches to Facebook marketplace. She skips over discounted spools of rope. She reviews an old pickup truck. Now a small boat that a dad is selling to pay for travel baseball. She switches back to her feed. “Plants grow in dirty water—don’t let the negativity get you down!!” She reviews the names of everyone else who liked it. She spends a long time hovering over that one.

Archaic slang

Humdinger

Woolly bugger

Yoo hoo!

Toodle-oo

Mighty fine

Gee whiz

Holy moly

Shucks

Gosh

Golly

Jeepers creepers

Good sir or madame

Have you taken leave of your senses?

June 7th

A dream:

There’s a super-intelligent mushroom growing in our fridge. Scientists didn’t believe it was possible. Wren would read and write in the kitchen, but secretly she was teaching it because she knew it could hear us. It’s in a sealed Tupperware, but it’s growing fast and starting to burst out. I’m trying to go to someone for help and keep the Tupperware closed, because I know how dangerous it could be if the super-intelligent mushroom is released to the world. The lid is now bulging.

The lid blows off. The mushroom mostly looks like sourdough starter. It is expanding rapidly. I try to wrangle the sticky mess and press on. The only person who can help lives in an old Victorian house. The beige mushroom goop escapes my grip. I wack it with a shovel. It breaks into pieces, but continues growing. It’s as if it’s made out of foam. I wish I had done a better job of sealing it off. I should have duct-taped the fridge shut.

My uncle-in-law versus the hogs

Things my future-uncle-in-law says:

What I’ll do is, I’ll sit the blind with my rifle, I’ve got a silencer on it, and shoot hogs. Then I’ll check my emails (he’s an ER doctor in Texas), doot-da-doo… Then pfft! shoot another hog. (shrugs and smiles).

You know who owns and operates all the wind farms in the world? The C…C…P… (China).

The hogs, they have fleas. You know the tick and flea spray for dogs? So what I do is then bring the tick and flea medicine out. I buy it in bulk. I put it in a spray bottle, and spray ‘em down. Then I go inside, have a margarita or two, maybe a taquito. A half hour later or so, I take the tractor down, hose ‘em off. No fleas!

About a statue of a mermaid kissing a dolphin on the lips: I am mesmerized by beauty of that statue. I’ve never even thought of buying a sculpture before I met Octavio and he approved of it going in my garage apartment.

The hogs, it’s the best meat you’ll ever taste. They’re a Berkshire breed, so everything is like Canadian bacon. You know Canadian bacon? Delicious.

The hogs are plotting against me. I know they are. Here’s how I know. They dig a trench around my shooting table, that’s how I know they’re plotting against me.

Am I a south Texas redneck? (shrugs) Yep!

The hogs are downright destructive. My partner, he bought a big trap but then left to spend Christmas with his family in Galveston. I drive by, and he’s caught 34 hogs in the trap. I said, Ted, you better get down here and deal with these hogs! Anyways, he couldn’t make it so I called the local church, they showed up with eight or ten guys and bunch of pickups. We donated the hogs to feed hungry families for Christmas. I’m sure it was the best Christmas feast those families ever had!

Wildfire Farms

When I was a kid, my younger sister was really into horses. I’m pretty sure many elementary-to-middle school-aged girls go through a horse phase. One summer, my parents signed us both up for a horse camp at a farm nearby, Wildfire Farms. My sister was ecstatic. I didn’t have any say.

Wildfire Farms was run by an old hippie. The summer “camp” didn’t have much of an agenda. My sister and one of the other girls stayed in the barn all day petting and grooming the horses. I somehow got relegated to digging a pit in the back where the hippie lady wanted to build a teepee. The dirt was rocky, so while I was sweating and swinging a pickaxe all day, my sister was in the shade having the time of her life with the horses.

At lunchtime, the lady took us into the house and fed us cheese sandwiches. She shared the house with a few alpacas. The alpacas smelled like piss. I remember being horrified when one wandered into the living room and snorted and spit at me while I was sitting on a hair-encrusted recliner, trying to eat my cheese sandwich.

Sunshower

Wren and I are going to an engagement party on the other side of the park. We are biking, on the heavy rental Citi bikes, and I am balancing a large bouquet of flowers. It’s a summer day. Blue skies and puffy clouds, like the Toy Story movie poster.

As we cross Grand Army Plaza, somehow one of Wren’s yellow clogs falls off, right in the middle of the intersection. A stranger stops and hands it back to her. She is feeling frazzled. We are running late.

Halfway through the park, the rain begins as if a single fat drop is called down, one at a time. The pace starts increasing. More drops are called down.

Like an orchestra tuning itself, slowly each of the thousands of people picnicking in the meadow begin to scream in unison. We pedal on. Just out of sight, their voices are reaching crescendo. Wren’s hair, which she had carefully curled, is now totally straight. My sunglasses are swimming goggles. We giggle.

Beautiful people

When you’re single, you always put yourself in the way of other peoples’ beauty. When you see a beautiful person on the street, you imagine how you could be involved with them. Or you think about how you’re not involved with them in any way, and what that means for you.

When you’re not single, it’s easier to appreciate the beauty of a stranger. You’re not involved. You don’t need to be involved. Enjoy experiencing the beautiful people.

Concerning the spiritual in art

In my neighborhood, it’s an unspoken rule that if you have something you’re getting rid of, you leave it on the sidewalk. This leads to a beautiful, constant, low-volume sidewalk marketplace of free stuff. Baby toys, cologne, lamps, framed art, boxes of books, old computer monitors. It’s fun because if you’re observant while you’re strolling around, you can find great stuff—for free. It’s also fun because you get evaluated on your stuff—we’ve left some chairs that got snatched right away, and we’ve left some art that did not. It’s sad when you see stuff on the sidewalk in the rain.

There’s always a lot of books. We live in a well-read neighborhood. Once I found and gifted my girlfriend a psychiatry textbook called “The Joy of Suffering.” I’ve skimmed a 1960s ad design review, Patton Oswalt’s memoir, volume 1 of modern Russian poetry, and a very outdated human resources and management textbook.

When I got back to the apartment one night, someone was using Wassily Kandinsky’s “Concerning the Spiritual in Art” as a doorstop. They must have found it in the box out front. The front door had been slamming on the book all day, which looked like it had been folded in half each direction at least a few times.

Things my friend Hugo says

When I lived on Canal street, a naked guy covered in KY jelly was running down the street, being chased by the police. It took a half hour for the police to pin him down because he was so slippery. When they finally did, they beat the shit out of him and threw him in a van and sped away.

Powerwashing outside the bagel shop

Two guys get out of a low-riding teal passenger van with chrome wheels. Inside, the van is filled with industrial plastic tanks. They start a gas-powered powerwasher somewhere inside the van. They each have a sprayer and are blasting suds all over the sidewalk around the entrance of the bagel shop. One guy has a broken foot and is in a walking boot, holding crutches. My dog and I are eating bagels at a sidewalk table next to the power washer pump, which is running very loudly. We are far enough away to avoid the flying suds. I see people clutching their newly-filled brown paper bags inside the bagel shop, peering out the front door. No one can come or go.

Witnessing a burglary

I’m looking out our hall window across the alley into our neighbors kitchen, as I usually do. It’s late and they are asleep. I’m about to turn away when some movement catches my eye: a tiny mouse zig zags across their counter, stealing crumbs.

Snoop Dogg

When I was home from college one summer, a high school friend invited me to a Snoop Dogg concert in New Hampshire. It was at the Casino Ballroom, on the sleazy part of the boardwalk by the beach. My friend was a lifeguard for the summer, and he and all the other lifeguards rented a shack on the marsh, walking distance from the beach. Every high tide, the shack would flood.

We got to the show early. The warmup DJ was not very good but was very loud, so we decided to stand outside on the back steps for a bit. Just outside the venue, two drunk women were in a full fistfight. One had ripped a tuft of hair from the other, and they were rolling in the street, screaming in thick Boston accents and throwing haymakers. Their boyfriends were very encouraging. One of the boyfriends chugged his beer and threw the empty can at the brawlers. They were directly in front of a police station, but no one seemed to be coming out to break it up.

The show was starting, so we went back inside. When Snoop stepped on stage, a single cloud smoke rose from the thousands of joints in the crowd, as if choreographed.

Afterwards, we went back to the lifeguard shack on the marsh and drank a concoction made from a tube of cheap frozen lemonade and a bottle of cheap vodka. I slept on the couch.

There are many ways to eat an avocado

At the parade, a man is eating an avocado like an apple. Or an ice cream cone. He left some skin on the bottom for a handle. He takes a big lick.

Oklahoma City

My connection to Oklahoma City: I dated a girl in high school from Oklahoma for a few weeks. She broke up with me on my birthday via text message. Her Facebook profile photo was of her as a huge thunderstorm approached that turned the sky green.

Japanese tourists at the coffee shop

I work in the Financial District. The best coffee shop near the office is a Blue Bottle, a craft coffee chain from San Francisco (they were funded by Google Ventures). Every surface inside the shop is some sort of pale wood, they play lo-fi electronic beats on what looks like an expensive sound system, there’s always at least one barista wearing a beanie and one wearing a bucket hat, and the coffee is very good. This particular Blue Bottle is on the corner of one of the glass towers that’s part of the new World Trade Center. It looks directly out onto the 9/11 memorial’s reflecting pools.

It’s usually busy after lunch. Once there was a Japanese family ahead of me in line. When it was time to pay, the father opened a small pouch and began counting out gold dollar coins.

The New Juice

“I love the juicer. I just got it. But it’s a lot,” he says. He’s created a Noah’s Arc of produce on the conveyor belt at the organic grocery store. He is buying two of everything, regardless of juiceability. Two bundles of bitter dandelion greens. Two avocados. Two persimmons, each marching down the gray conveyor toward the paper bags. The line behind him snakes past the sparkling water display. “The total is $381.62. Would you like the receipt?” He hems and haws, then nods. The thin paper is so long it curls like a scroll. Bundles of dill and parsley are bursting from the top of his brown bags. The cashier hands it to him. “Like a trophy” she says.

January 2nd

A dream:

Downtown Manhattan, near Battery Park on the west side. I was running late, I had to get home. Standing near a dock. A very fit couple climbed out of the water wearing goggles and swimming caps. They told me they exercised by swimming up and down the Hudson. That had just swam from Midtown. I was really running late.

A man from the coastguard walked towards us. He told us that they had just captured a UFO on Nubble Light, an island/lighthouse off the coast. He pointed. Looking out on the harbor, we could see the Coast Guard tower blinking red where the UFO was. The man invited us to come see the aliens, which felt like shouldn’t have been allowed. He didn’t seem very professional. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Now I was really late.

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“An hour and a half,” he said.

I said I couldn’t do it and started to head home. The swimming couple boarded the ferry with him and headed towards Nubble Light.

There was something bad happening. Another ferry out on the harbor had caught fire. It was suddenly a cloudy day. The winds changed. It might storm.

The UFC

The UFC is on TV. The fighters circle each other in a cage lined with ads for personal injury lawyers. It is 3:30 in the afternoon. I am at the hotel bar in the lobby of a Springhill Suites in a Texas strip mall.

Advice for joining a German book club

When I dated the German, she invited me to her book club with the other Germans. Being part of a bookclub was a lifelong dream of mine. I had been reading a novel by Andrew Sean Greer that was so fun I frequently had to take a break from reading it to share a particularly complex and beautiful sentence with my German girlfriend.

At the time of my joining, it was her turn to pick a book. She knew I was loving this novel, so she picked it. All the Germans in the group went out and bought it. At the first book club meeting—which also included a fabulous dinner party, because these were fabulous Germans—one of the Germans was unabashed with her critique: the book sucked. The others piled on: The sentences were too long. It was confusing and difficult to read. These were the German’s lifelong friends from childhood, so they could be honest with each other. Besides for my girlfriend, no one knew that I was the one who had chosen the book. I was the newcomer, I was just getting to know these people. It turns out there are some complexities when you’re the only native english speaker in a English-language-but-very-German bookclub.

The German and I ended up breaking up. She said I could stay in the bookclub if I wanted. I figured the right thing to do was to resign.

Full moon

A full moon is a little rip in reality. It’s the only time we’re able to see beyond our black dome of a universe, and it’s too bright to tell what’s going on out there.

Overheard phone call in the Ace hotel lobby

A missing girl, dead girl, the essence of a girl in a bottle. That’s the story. That’s retail. I talked to a lawyer. I don’t have the time. I don’t have the time for anything. My feet hurt, I can’t sleep. It’s like Rikers Island. Do you understand?! It doesn’t matter. People have to pay for it. I’m living in too much pain every day. From one thing to the next. Because of the world we live in. The pandemic made everything 7000 times worse.

Drunk philosophy

Graffiti and stickers in NYC dive bar bathrooms

• “The neon lights are veins”
• “This sink is NOT for feet washing!!!”
• “Dating: one nite stands only. Female only. Meaning: Spaghetti and meatball date. Meaning: soda date. Coffee date. Gyro date. Meaning: a walking date. Meaning: a cheeseburger deluxe date. Meaning: maybe romance. E-mail: datedating30@gmail.com.”
• “Data is an buddha”
• “Call mom”
• “God is love”
• “Stop the fucking hate, ppl”
• “DJ Juice on U-tube: Mixtape videos (vol. 72 reloaded)”
• “Sleep with your hands around your ankles”
• “Bottom shelf boyz”
• “Happy birthday Isaac. <3 The Creamy Boys”
• “Let’s gobble millionaires like good margins”
• “Gay sex and class war”
• “Don’t trust your fears (except in Halloween)”
• “Dog’s Best Man”
• “Unfuck the world. And then? And then? And then?”
• “Death to settler-colonialism”
• “Give me $$$ to blow up banks”
• “Do not shit on floor”

Having your own garage

They have a their own two story house in Prospect Heights. It’s a modern one, with cedar siding, their house number in a sans serif font, and up-lighting. They have their own garage.

The girlfriend is impatiently waiting on the sidewalk. She is wearing that brand of leggings that went viral on TikTok, I think. The boyfriend is parking their Tesla. The garage only a few inches wider than the Tesla. The boyfriend is struggling. Now he is laying on the roof of the car, trying to reach the charging port. On the sidewalk, the girlfriend crosses her arms.

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The best thing about memories is making them.

Wegovy: To lose weight. Rx only. Important Safety Information: Wegovy (semaglutide) injection (24 mg) may have serious side effects. Do not use if you or any of your family have ever had a type of thyroid cancer called medullary thyroid carcinoma (MTC) or if you have an endocrine system condition called multiple neoplasia syndrome type 2 (MEN 2). In rodents, Wegovy causes thyroid C-cell tumors and its impact in humans is unknown. Tell your provider if you get a lump or swelling in your neck, hoarseness, trouble swallowing, or shortness or breath. These may be symptoms of thyroid cancer. Wegovy is a prescription medicine for patients with obesity (BMI 230) or overweight (BMI 227) who also have weight-related medical problems, to help them lose weight and keep weight off. It’s used with a reduced calorie meal plan and increased physical activity. Wegovy is semaglutide and should not be used with semaglutide-containing products or other GLP-1s. It is not known if Wegovy is safe and effective when taken with other weight loss products. It is not known if Wegovy can be used safely in people who have had pancreatitis. Wegovy may cause serious side effects, including: Inflammation of Pancreas (Acute Pancreatitis): Monitor for signs, including severe abdominal pain that does not go away, sometimes radiating to the back, with or without vomiting. Acute Gallbladder Disease: tell your provider right away you have pain in your upper stomach, yellowing of skin or eyes (jaundice), fever, or clay-colored stools. Low Blood Sugar (hypoglycemia): Wegovy can cause too low blood sugar in patients with type-2 diabetes who also take another glucose control medication. Monitor for dizziness, blurred vision, mood changes, sweating, or fast heartbeat. Acute Kidney Injury: In people who have kidney problems, diarhea, nausea, and vomiting may cause a loss of fluids (dehydration) which may cause kidney problems to get worse. Drink plenty of water to help reduce the chance of dehydration. Serious Allergic Reactions: Stop using Wegovy right away if you experience symptoms of serious allergic reaction, including swelling of your face, lips, tongue or throat, severe rash or itching, very rapid heartbeat, problems breathing or swallowing or fainting or feeling dizzy. Do not use if you have a known allergic reaction to Wegovy. Diabetic Retinopathy Complications in patients with type-2 diabetes. If you have type-2 diabetes tell your provider right you have changes in vision. Increase in Heart Rate: Tell your provider right away if you have a racing heartbeat while at rest. Suicidal behavior and ideation: Pay attention to any mental heal changes, especially changes in your mood, behaviors, thoughts, or feelings. Call your health care provider right away if you have any mental health changes that are new, worse, or worry you. Never share a pen: pen-sharing poses a risk of infection. Wegovy should not be used during pregnancy. There is no benefit to weight loss during pregnancy and Wegovy may cause harm to the unborn baby. If you are a female or male of reproductive potential, discontinue Wegovy at least 2 months before a planned pregnancy since the drug can stay in the bloodstream for a long time. The most common side effects of Wegovy are: nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, constipation, abdominal pain, headache, fatigue, dyspepsia, dizziness, abdominal distension, belching, hypoglycemia in patients, with type 2 diabetes, flatulence, gastroenteritis, and gastroesophageal reflux disease. These are not all the side effects of Wegovy.

Stupid super powers

• Summon roadkill
• Turn into a puddle
• Extreme smell
• Being magnetic

The name of a boat in New Jersey

Yo Mama’s Ass XL

Pigeons

The pigeons rarely come to my office window. Once they did, and they pooped on my air conditioner. Then they flew away.

Now, when it rains hard, the poop gets rehydrated and splatters all over the window.

Newborn in NYC

In the old days, doctors would slap newborns when they arrived in this world.

New York City does that to its newcomers with Penn Station and Port Authority.

It’s my first time in Port Authority. I finally escape to the street. I look up. It’s the New York Times building. Exciting! I look ahead. A homeless guy looks me dead in the eyes and drops his pants.

The Proposal

I proposed to my girlfriend Wren in Prospect Park in the fall. As we were walking home—one of us with new jewelry—we ran into her ex. He was the first person that found out we got engaged, before our parents or friends. It wasn’t the worst way to meet your partner’s ex for the first time. Maybe it’s a good omen.

Dogs puking

Dogs vomit the same way humans deal with a wardrobe malfunction: better fix this quick. Lick it back up. Pull up your pants.

Slimy underhooks

My younger brother and I used to play a game in the summertime called “Slimy Underhooks.” It went like this: First, we’d drag the sprinkler out into the lawn and take off our shirts. Someone would crawl behind the bush under the kitchen window to turn the hose on. Then, we’d proceed to ensure that our upper bodies got completely wet. This completed the setup.

Each round began with a ceremonial dance: we’d each flap our arms like chickens, slapping our inner arms against our wet bony sides, making as much noise as possible. It made a sickly, wet slapping sound. We’d do this and stomp side to side, taking deep knee bends. Like boxers bumping gloves before a match, after about 15-30 seconds of this slapping, the game could begin.

The rules of the game were simple: whoever could hug their arms around the other person’s torso won, and the round was over. The technique was to tightly clench your arms to your sides, and point your hands forward, fingers flattened, like little spatulas. On defense, you’d swat away a lunging wet hand. On offense, you’d try to shoot your hands in between your opponent’s slimy torso and arm. The key to avoiding injury was to make sure both players were both sweaty and wet. It was a cross between boxing and wrestling, each competitors slimily circling and jabbing, waiting for just the right moment to strike.

Coffee strategy for international travel

When I worked at a Belgian startup, at least once every six months I’d fly to Europe for a “work week.” The name always bothered me—what were we supposed to call every other Monday through Friday? In any case, “work weeks” were great: they were a week of full of collaborating, ideating, strategizing. I got to bond (read: drink) with coworkers, and I traveled all over Europe for free.

Most of my adult life I have been fully addicted to coffee. My coffee preferences have matured over the years—and gotten more expensive—from Dunkin Donuts to Devoción, my current favorite. In college, the seasons created natural caffeine ebbs and flows: my coffee intake would slowly ramp up as the semester wore on, then spike drastically during finals week, and then drop to near zero during the breaks. And the cycle would repeat.

As an adult, there are no such guardrails. I remember one Saturday, after walking around SoHo all day, I couldn’t get energized to go out and meet my friends for dinner and drinks. At that point in the day, I realized I had consumed seven espressos, and I was feeling totally exhausted.

When you’re traveling to Europe, you know you’re going to want to fight the jet lag at some point. You’ll want to be prepared. Over the years, I’ve developed the following playbook: I present, a coffee strategy for international travel.

1. The first thing you’re going to want to do is to cut back. I’d recommend going cold turkey for the week leading up to your trip. Expect headaches, as your body grapples with the physical effects of your chemical dependency. I often find myself craving coffee at random times: someone buys a gas station coffee in a movie, and I start thinking about coffee, even late at night… More recently, I have become weak minded, so leading up to some trips I allow myself a single caffeinated beverage per day.
2. Hold out as long as possible. Layover? No need for a coffee yet.
3. Once you arrive, it’s time for The Trifecta. This is the most important part. Stop at a little cafe, ideally one with the chairs outside facing the street, and order one espresso, one beer, and one sparkling water. This effervescent trio is the most beautiful way to announce that you’ve arrived.
4. Do not take a nap. Embrace the brain drain. It might be hard for a day, but it pays dividends later in the week. I think there’s something beautiful about the strange delirium. I remember sitting at a fondue restaurant with my friend Michael in one of these moments. We just stared at each other, unable to form enough consecutive thoughts to carry a conversation, while a vat of cheese bubbled between us.

October 26

A dream:

Each day, I drive over the Verrazzano Narrows bridge. Each day, there’s a guy kayaking down below. The waves are big, he’s in the whitewater, battling. Later, on a hike, I pass him in the woods. I offer him some granola and he rejects it. Each day, I hike the same trail. I bring a different type of granola, and each day he turns me down. I wonder if he simply doesn’t like granola.

Checking out at Goodwill

The cashier was wearing a trucker hat with an anime woman with a hand around her throat. The hand had a tattoo on each finger spelling L-O-V-E. He let out a big sigh.

The people ahead of us were two blond Russian women and a small child. The child was sloppily trying on every pair of sunglasses on the rack, which was threatening to topple over. Each of the women had a full cart of children’s toys and clothes. They each took a separate register when checking out, even though there were only two registers. They also seemed to litigate every item, holding each one up, unfolding them, and taking them out of the bag even after it had been scanned and folded.

Three teenagers behind us were buying a vintage teddy bear. By now, the line had snaked through the store while the Russians re-evaluated every item in their carts. A tall guy in a skullcap started yelling from the back of the line: “Young man! Young man!” The security guard grumbled incoherently, but didn’t move. The cashier asked no one in particular, “what the hell does he want?” Eventually, a different security guard walked to the back of the line to talk to him. The man said, “do you have any sneakers, size 14, in black?”

Outside the Supreme store

In the long line outside the Supreme store, everyone is wearing the same outfit.

The incident at Boris Bleb

Before my Nana started dating my grandpa, she dated a man named Newcomb Mott. He was a textbook salesman. “He was a bit odd,” Nana said. He always wore a trench coat. On one of their dates, he took her to see a mime show. Not long after, he left the city to travel through Europe, which was just fine by Nana.

While Newcomb was hiking in Finland, he crossed into the USSR and was promptly captured. It was the Cold War, so it was decided that he was an American spy. He was sentenced to prison in a Siberian gulag. On the long train ride to Siberia, he had time to think through his predicament. After some thought, he attempted to escape, at which point he was immediately killed. The Soviets claimed it was a suicide. He was shot 68 times.

Meanwhile, back in Brooklyn, my Nana met my Ed, a firefighter from a good Irish family. They got married, had kids, moved to the suburbs, and retired to New Hampshire, where they live on a lake.

Bubblegum on the stairs

The bubblegum that our downstairs neighbor left on the stairs is still there. Leaving for vacation, I was hopeful: time heals all wounds. But the bubblegum is still there. And vacation is over.

It’s coated in black grime now; only my knowledge that it was once pink remains.

I told Wren that it looked like an elf who worked in candyland contracted lymphoma, and this is what they coughed up. “You disgust me,” she said.

For a week or so, the bubblegum provided a small game for me, something to look forward to as a reward for making it halfway up our four story walkup. I could observe it and see if I could find new ways to describe it.

In the morning light, it glistens as if it’s still wet.

Somehow there’s a few flecks of glitter on it?!

The gum is on 5th step of the third flight of stairs.

Over time, the dome of gray bubblegum sheltered the grime on its leeward side, which stretches behind it towards the next stair as if it’s casting a shadow.

My partner’s exes and their professions

• Name: Topper.
  Profession: Serial used-clothing entrepreneur.
  Fun fact: his cousin dated Kieth Richards’ daughter!
• Name: Greg.
  Profession: N/A. Fun fact: R.L. Stein lookalike, lived on a sailboat.
• Name: Anis.
  Profession: Hotel manager.
• Name: Anis (a different one).
  Profession: Founder, dating app startup (now defunct).
• Name: Pablo.
  Profession: Photographer (Chilean).
  Fun fact: can’t swim.
• Name: Antonello. Profession: photographer (Sicilian).
• Name: Rupert.
  Profession: Photographer (Australian).
  Fun fact: loves speedos and ultimate frisbee.
• Name: Ian.
  Profession: sommelier, amateur poet.
• Name: Adam.
  Profession: creative director.
  Fun fact: was fired (and sued!) by Google.
• Name: Ford.
  Profession: Barista.
  Fun fact: was considering being a lawyer, chose barista instead.
• Name: Kris.
  Profession: amateur opera singer.
  Fun fact: Loves grapes!
• Name: Oliver.
  Profession: Sandwich purveyor.
  Fun fact: Family owned the Atlanta Hawks!
• Name: Cameron.
  Profession: Unknown, crypto (?).
  Fun fact: While attending Harvard, co-founded a popular social media site but then got kicked out of the company!

Overheard in church basement thrift store

“Would you look at this…” She holds up a sweater. “‘the future is female’… The things they come up with nowadays…”

Some things are defined by what they’re not

Some things, like diet energy drinks, Trumpism, and certain health foods are defined by what they are not, instead of what they are.

How to eat ice cream

Straight from the pint: swirl the spoon from the outside in, making a little cone in the center. Use the smallest spoon you can find. When you’re halfway through, dig the spoon to the bottom of the cardboard container roll the ice cream around like a snowball, peeling off melty outer layer after melty outer layer. Sit cross-legged at the end of the bed while your fiancee tries to sleep, eye mask on, itching her leg.

Sayulita solicitations

Things you may be asked to purchase on a beach in Mexico—and the time at which you are asked—while reading a book about late-1800s New York financiers:

Weed: 11:46 am. Hammocks: 11:48 am. Massage: 11:49 am. Wood carvings of sea creatures: 11:49 am. Sunglasses: 11:50 am. Dresses: 11:52 am. Blankets: 11:54 am. Woven bags: 11:55 am. Beach toys: 11:56 am. Beach toys and cigars: 11:57 am. Bracelets: 11:57 am. Hair braiding: 11:57 am. Wooden spoons: 11:58 am. Fruit: 11:58 am. Beach wraps: 11:59 am. Bracelets and hair braiding: 12:03 pm. Hair braiding and henna tattoos: 12:06 pm. Blankets: 12:08 pm. Hair braiding and bracelets : 12:10 pm. Bracelets: 12:13 pm. Different bracelets: 12:13 pm. Oysters from the river by the sewage treatment plant: 12:15 pm. Hammocks: 12:16 pm. Blankets: 12:17 pm. Wood carvings again: 12:18 pm. Massage: 12:19 pm. Plastic army man parachute kite: 12:19 pm. Long sleeved t-shirts: 12:20 pm. Bracelets and hair braiding: 12:21 pm. Silver(?) jewelry: 12:22 pm. Bracelets and tattoos: 12:23 pm. Hair braiding: 12:23 pm.

Canadian bacon

The winter I lived in Maine, I got into the habit of making Canadian-bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches for breakfast. I probably ate a Canadian-bacon-egg-and-cheese every day for a month. It was locally raised Canadian bacon, from a farm down the road. My pee smelled so bad that when I returned to New York, I went to the doctor and got a urinalysis and blood work done.

Grenades in the sand

After graduation, my friend from college got a job on a barge in the New York harbor. They had just installed a new underwater gas pipeline to Brooklyn, and his barge’s job was to cover the pipeline with sand. The sand they used came from “overseas.” The problem was that they kept finding grenades in the sand. His supervisor told the crew that if they found one more grenade, the whole project would be cancelled. Miraculously, they never found another grenade and completely covered the gas pipeline.

Touristy trinkets: license plate signs

Signs made out of cut-up Mexican license plates:

• Tequila por favor
• No beer no sex
• I love mother
• I love big dick
• Love Is love
• Learn your life
• Happy Christmas

The environmental band

On a gray, drizzly Sunday afternoon, there’s a band in the park playing the worst Counting Crows cover I’ve ever heard out of the back of a UHAUL box truck. They’re all crowded inside the truck, so you can’t really see them play. You can hear them quite well, unfortunately. There’s four people standing in front watching. There’s a sign taped on the side of the truck, something about the environment. Instead of “we will rock you,” they sang “superstorms and wildfires will shock you.” Instead of “I’ll stop the world and melt with you” they sang “we’ve melted the world with fossil fuels.” They played “paved paradise and put up a parking lot” as is, just incredibly out of tune. It’s starting to rain. Besides the four people, everyone else is hurrying away.

My cousin’s friend, the professional stunt diver

My cousin’s friend is a professional stunt diver. He’s on team Red Bull. Six months out of the year, he travels around the world, competing in high-diving events. They dive off cliffs, skyscrapers, apartment complexes, and custom-built scaffold structures, sometimes into small pools only a few feet wide.

The stunt diver, my cousin, and I went on a ski trip together once. We stopped in front of a snow-covered cliff to take a photo of him holding all of his sponsor’s protein bars, fanned out so you could see the logos (a contractual obligation).

Once he was part of a stunt that involved him diving off of a hang glider mid flight. He was a bit nervous, so he jumped a few seconds too soon. In hindsight, he estimated he was probably at 120 feet above the water. They usually jump from 90 feet. He broke several of his ribs.

Passover 2023

I’m waiting for the subway at 12:36 am after my coworker’s Passover Seder where only 1.5 out of the 15 attendees were Jewish (the host’s husband recently converted). My first Seder was several years back, when I was dating the German. She went to high school at the English language school in Munich, which was apparently quite prestigious. All her closest friends were Jewish, and many of them found themselves in New York in the second half of their twenties. The proceedings of the Seder were in German and Hebrew, so I didn’t really follow. Afterwards we drank wine and listened to J. Cole.

The train finally arrives. Two doors open: on one, a gruff man with a bicycle flipped over and a wrench, performing repairs beside an open 40oz of malt liquor. On the other, a seemingly bland group of normal looking people. My fiancée pulls me towards the second car, as I eye what exactly the guy is doing to his bicycle. As it turns out, the group of people we sit next to are all French and reek of cigarette smoke, which makes her nauseous.