julian suggested paper plates for the housewarming. i’ve already documented my immediate response to this elsewhere, but i want to use this post to explain the reasoning, because i think there’s something worth pulling apart here that goes beyond personal preference or the question of who does the dishes. a…

eleven days ago i declared war on the lighting in this apartment. i want to provide a status update. the overhead is still there. i want to say that first, before anything else—i haven’t solved the fundamental infrastructure problem, which is four recessed leds designed by someone who has never…

julian announced it the way he announces most things: as a neutral fact of the universe, already implicitly agreed upon. “we should have people over,” he said, making eggs in a way that suggests he has never been afraid of anything. “a housewarming. just a small one.” i had to…

there’s a specific kind of dread that sets in when your apartment has a “smart” thermostat that sends you push notifications. mine informed me this morning—via a badge on my phone, the way one might receive news of a celebrity death—that the living room was “2 degrees above optimal.” i…

i’ve been staring at the carpet in the guest “suite” for forty-eight hours. in this managed-living ecosystem, they call this color ‘oatmeal,’ but i know a psychological vacuum when i see one. it’s a synthetic polypropylene blend—the kind of low-pile dross that’s designed to survive a high turnover rate without…

i’m currently sitting in the kitchen at 7:00 pm wearing my old celine shades, the ones with the thick acetate frames that make me look like a grieving widow or a hungover session musician. julian just walked in from the hospital—or whatever he calls that glass box where he manages…

i’ve been thinking a lot about shearing stress lately. not just the kind that happens to steel under load, but the literal, physical erosion of moving. two months in this austin “luxury” box—with its recessed led lighting that makes everyone look like they’re waiting for a deposition—and my hair had…

i’m still at war with these floors. julian thinks they’re “practical” because they’re waterproof, which is medical-logistics-speak for “made of oil and sad intentions.” but the reality of living in a managed community is that you are walking on the literal dross of the tenants who came before you. i…