The title is mainly because I couldn't think of another poetic title. I have been reading about death for a few years (if you recall some of the posts in my old abandoned blog). This summer, I’m continuing down that path. Because you know, death is a
“I have always felt that a human being could only be saved by another human being. I am aware that we do not save each other very often. But I am also aware that we save each other some of the time.” —James Baldwin Artists, poets, musicians, and painters have
We are 50% done with 2025. This year, I started wondering what I could quantify to get a sense of how I actually live my life. Most of my journaling is qualitative, but I began tracking a few numbers. They’re not perfect. Not entirely consistent. Some of the things
I couldn’t help but feel that The Stone Diaries is the maximalist companion to John Williams’ Stoner. Where Stoner was restrained and avoidant—almost disinterested—Daisy is full of anxious yearning. She’s trying, reaching, flailing. It’s the story of a woman pouring maximum, sometimes chaotic, effort into
In a corner of Brooklyn Heights, stood the charming establishment of 45 Pineapple, which I’m the proud owner of. My establishment didn’t cater to travelers or tourists—Mayor Eric Adams had banned short accommodations for humans, animals, or plants in Brooklyn Heights. But there was one loophole, and
What is motherhood? A woman coming out of a woman coming out of a woman coming out of a woman coming out of a woman coming out of a woman coming out of a woman. An unbroken chain of births. A literal, bloody set of Russian dolls. Grab any woman
I don't have any other way to describe this post. These are sentences I'm sad I didn't write myself. I find them so beautiful. I'm in love with these sentences. All of them are from books I read at least two years
I'll slowly reshare my old blog posts here in a sequence that makes sense to me. This is a poem I wrote in 2023. I avoided rereading it since then. I somehow assumed I'd cringe if I reread it. But I'm not cringing. It&
Two comments on this piece: 1. Writing about difficult topics is daunting and can be self-indulgent, or just sickly dwelling. So the only tasteful approach to these dark and sad areas is humor. HOWEVER, this piece is about my grandmother. I can't be my humorous self when I&
Even papers age and get wrinkles too. This week my 2025 journal arrived (a month late! Apparently even time can get delayed in customs). I'm already emotional about all that I will fill her with. All the feelings that made a home in my chest, all the secrets