In which a ghost flits through l’école…
[This article to be published in a few weeks.]
Category: All Posts
Indeed, verily, e’ery post e’er made.
Retourner à France (Mar 19 2026)
France, je t’aime.
Je t’aime that the best eye surgeon performing the best eye surgery for my particular eye condition costs only 4700euros.
And that this surgery should get me glasses-free perfect vision until I get cataracts at age 70. (I may also need reading glasses; the surgery has no effect on that.)
Je t’aime the delight of walking through Paris. Of selecting between a 32 minute subway ride or a 48 minute walk and choosing the walk… twice.
Je t’aime that the pastry was not super good, but still was better than any pastries I get in The States.
Je t’aime the sensation of going to a place that Is Mine. It’s My Apartment. I love that experience. It makes me want to acquire more real estate.
(This apartment is not ownership but a furnished rental. Still, the concept stands: the freezer contains food I want; the bedroom is organized the way I left it; the smell when I enter is precisely the way I recall it.)
Je t’aime traveling with my father. We both defer to the other’s judgment a bit too much when an improved answer would be expressing more preference, but that’s 1) minimal and 2) completely within my control to improve.
Je t’aime aussi que ma langue n’est pas parfait, mais j’ai parlé successfulment avec le chururgien et je vais demain fixer un date de chirurgie!
It’s nice when exhausted travel days (I slept only 1.5hrs last night, all in an uncomfortable seat on an airplane) are still absolute delights 🙂
Talking to Strangers (Mar 18 2026)
In which Our Hero makes a new friend
“Is this your pillow?” The well-groomed man from Galveston Texas holds out my pillow in offering.
“Yes,” I say and take it. He sits down beside me, to my right, and immediately plugs his charger into our shared outlet.
Three minutes later, I ask my father, “is that your light that’s pointing down at me?”
My father says no. I illuminate my screen. The screen shows an advertisement, then another. The clock in the corner counts down from nearly 3 minutes.
“Three minutes worth of ads?” I say to no one in particular.
The light switches off. “It was my light,” says the well-groomed man from Galveston Texas.
“You heading to Paris for business or vacation?” I ask.
“Neither. My wife’s father died.”
“Recently?”
“Today.”
“Was it sudden?”
“Very sudden. Heart attack.”
You ever talk to someone and it’s especially smooth, like the caramel inside of a Lindt chocolate truffle oozing slowly out of its shell. If I liked men and he weren’t married and I weren’t engaged…
Harrison is an interior designer. Not an architect (that’s the requirement to be a floor plan submitter in New York), but he works with a lot of architects. He draws the plans for them to submit.
I check the specifics. “If I showed you a bathroom and said ‘is that a prototype?’, you’d be able to spot it in your sleep?”
“Pretty much.”
“Feel free to say no. Can I ask you a couple questions?”
He agrees. I pull up my floorplan. “I got these three bathrooms. This left one is accessible. And the right ones: one of the doorways is 28 inches, the other 24 inches, and one of them opens up off the kitchen.”
“You’ll be fine,” Harrison says. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“But bathrooms need to have doorways 32 inches clear.”
“It’ll probably get through. You have the accessible one over there.”
“That’s not code.”
“I know. But they’re [the examiners are] reasonable. And the bathroom off the kitchen: I’ve never seen it enforced.”
“That’s one thing I’ve loved about New York City: the rules are only rules if you’re also bothering other people. If you aren’t affecting anyone, people generally let you alone.”
Harrison laughs. “And even if they don’t, you can always draw 32 inch doors and then just install smaller ones. We’ve been working for five years with a building that requires 34 inch doors. We’ve never installed a single one.”
Thank you, Harrison.
Yes, that is my pillow.
Thank you for helping me sleep easier.
The Focus of Necessity (Mar 18 2026)
Big situations make big people.
After stretching myself
By purchasing an asset that is ~16x the price of
the second most expensive asset I’ve ever purchased
and then planning to invest an additional 40% into that asset,
I find myself much more interested and driven to work than I have previously.
This is a common experience of mine:
I work most effectively, most focusedly, when I work out of necessity.
I bite off a huge amount
And then find ways to chew it.
I’m grateful for the people in my life
Who keep me grounded.
Not only by pointing out key elements in my attack plans
(or improvisations)
that I may have missed
but also by helping me understand
Whether the
often extremely
unusual maneuvers I’m making
are in-sane
or hyper sane.
For the next ~6 months
(or whenever this resolves),
‘tis crunch time.
Time to chew this big bite into submission.
Yum, yum, yum.
Bone-Headed Moves (Mar 16 2026)
In which Our Hero commiserates and plans.
Some days you get bad news you were expecting. Fearing. Hoping against, but unsurprised by.
You speak with an expert who confirms your fears.
And the six weeks of bleeding
will need to be repeated.
The best in the world
vs a mere A player
in a complicated field
are aeons apart.
Last year, a friend had surgery.
The surgeon messed up the hardware.
The bone healed incorrectly.
Friend asked at multiple steps along the way.
The surgeon said it’s fine.
Now today, finally, they spoke with an actual expert.
He suggested… Intimated… That friend had experienced medical malpractice.
Surgeon prompted friend that it’s time to collect evidence.
“Wow,” Expert said. “[Surgeon] put that in writing?”
This is not how Friend wanted today to go.
But knowing the truth doesn’t make it less truth-y.
Life has thrown a new opportunity.
Let us do with it what we can.
Sneaky Share Cake (Mar 15 2026)
In which Partner uses Birthday as Gift for Others 🤫
On Friday I surreptitiously ran the 3.5 miles round-trip to Costco to order Partner a full-size Costco cake. The chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, with additional frosting inside the cake instead of the normal mousse because it’s Partner’s favorite (the frosting is her favorite part!).
Today, we acquired the cake from Costco. Partner was surprised: We spend almost all of our time together. When did I have time to order it?
Partner ate some frosting and squirreled a few additional pieces for later.
Then, armed with a stack of paper plates and a bag of plastic forks, we started a walk around the Harlem Meer (a pond at the northeastern tip of Central Park).
At the beginning of the loop, we had 2/3rds of a Costco cake.
At the end of the loop, we had none.
Highlights include:
- Six teenage boys with fishing poles. Five of them want cake. One comments how fortuitous it is that we stumble upon teenage boys when we have extra cake. Another teaches Partner that a fishing license is $25 but no one checks if you have one.
- Two stoner early-twenties girls on the east side. If teenage boys are one’s most fitting cake-wanters, stoners are a close second. They were two of only three cake requesters after they overheard us offer a couple nearby.
- The third was a homeless man emerging from the bathroom, saying “I love cake!”, receiving a slice, and then returning to the bathroom (presumably because it’s warm there).
- A European man who rejects it by saying, “A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.”
- A fisherman who first asks his son if he wants a slice, rejecting one for himself because “It’s not my cheat day”. Then, when offered one to save save for tomorrow, says, “Alright, I’ll take one.” and, as we walk away, follows up with, “I’m not saving this for tomorrow.”.
- A group of three who comment, “That’s so generous!” to the idea of people giving out cake. The kid doesn’t want a slice, but the two adult do. The kid’s mom ends up grabbing a second slice for herself after the kid changes his mind.
- Learning that if you say, “Do you want some cake?”, many people will scoff. But If you say, “It’s my birthday” before they say “No”, those same people will not scoff. Once they say “No”, there’s no coming back.
This is our second year of giving cake in this manner. Last year we were featured on Reno After Dark.
Happy Birthday, Partner!
Childishness (Mar 14 2026)
In which <blows raspberry!!!>
Partner sometimes implies I’m childish.
She does this through cryptic statements like, “You’re very childish.”
I parry these attacks with elegant ripostes, like, “I KNOW YOU ARE BUT WHAT AM I??”
Today, we took the train from 96th Street to visit a friend.
Partner asked me, “What’s our destination?”
I said, “191st Street”.
Partner said, “THAT NUMBER IS TOO HIGH.”
I shrugged.
She therefore began singing, in the appropriate tune: “One hundred ninety-one stops to go; one hundred ninety-one stops! Take one down, pass it around; one hundred ninety stops to go!”
And then she continued.
And continued.
When the train arrived at 145th Street, the song arrived at 146. She gleefully accelerated through 146 so she could intersect the station with the song. She was very pleased with herself.
When we disembarked at 191st Street, she had already arrived to 66 in the song.
En route back, she started at 191 and attempted to time the song with the train speed.
For our next trip up to see this friend, she has set the goal of singing all the way from 191 down to zero.
WHO’S CHILDISH NOW???!
Fast, Delayed (Mar 13 2026)
In which Our Hero chills the fuck out.
Three days ago I wanted to fast.
I’ve done long fasts before. When I need to clear my head.
Partner says I’m less sharp when I fast.
At one point I mused that I may be 80% as effective, but focus for 200% as long.
My emotions are duller. Chiller. Easier.
It’s like the old food bank advertisement: “Nothing else matters when you’re hungry.”
I like being hungry.
It fills me with emptiness.
The sort of emptiness that allows for replenishment.
At least one close relative is made uncomfortable by my fasting.
They think – and commented – and rightfully so – that it sounds like something I can control when I feel out of control.
Okay.
Sure.
I guess that’s somewhat disordered?
I’m not sure whether the damage of this sort of behavior is the magnitude or frequency.
Alcohol or cannabis or opiates have a similar sitch.
Why are you doing it? What are the effects? How stable are you and why and wherefore? How much does it hurt you or those around you?
On Tuesday I wanted to fast. I missed the equipment. (I like to take ketones on the first day of a fast.) I wasn’t stressed, per se, but I could feel myself getting there.
When making a big decision or undergoing a life change.
I acquired the items through the online internet.
On Thursday, they arrived.
Today, I fast.
I wish I had fasted earlier. Had acquired the items in person (New York has everything!) or performed a less-perfect version of accessing ketosis sans ketones.
Last night, I stayed awake until 4, very much not wanting to.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind spun and crashed out.
Today, I might have arrived at a bathroom solution.
And my most-likely contractor sent an acceptable quote.
What are other options? I don’t like drinking or drugs.
I used to run long distance, a similar effect.
Sometimes I fast. I like it. It works.
It’s nice to have a clearer mind during times of intensity.
And today I ran 5 miles, the farthest since breaking my foot.
Tomorrow, I may eat.
How glorious that will be.
On Math/Physics, and People (Mar 12 2026)
In which Our Hero butts up against the stupidest.
Our world contains two types of problems:
- Problems of physics/math
- Problems of people
The first type is insurmountable. No amount of bargaining, negotiating, coercing, or bribing will affect these Truths.
The second type is negotiable. Fudgable. Affectable. Mushy. With enough charisma or know-how, you can cajole and sneak your way through.
Much debate occurs at their interface. Science itself is the experimental method of sorting observations into one category or the other.
Today, I drew a picture. A beautiful picture. Water running in pipes through a wall. The human harnessing of physics to achieve hygiene through handwashing and safety through sewage: perhaps the greatest lifesaving invention of the last millennium.
And now some goddamn housing code tells me I can’t. Not because the physics fails. Not for any harm to others. Not even for any harm to myself. But simply because some bureaucrat wrote some rule that says I need additional space in front of my toilet.
This code is not reasonable.
This code is not logical.
This code is not practical.
This code should not apply to what I do in my own house.
Yet now I have to visit the Department of Buildings office hours yet again on Tuesday to see if I can formulate new drawings that can pass this ridiculous code. Not for the reason that the code matters. Simply because that’s what it is.
I. Despise. This. Code.
Everybody’s a Creative… (Mar 11 2026)
In which Our Hero seeks not to hire others’ creativity, for he has enough of his own.
The NYC Department of Buildings only accepts renovation plans submitted with an architect’s signature.
Architects therefore sell signatures.
An architect’s signature on plans pledges that the drawings are accurate.
Architects therefore sell signatures and drawings.
Drawings require measurements.
Architects therefore sell signatures, drawings, and measurements.
While an architect could feasibly sell less than those three, that’s the minimum I’ve found.
It’s not glamorous work (measure a building; draw the client’s desired floorplan; sign the submission).
It’s also standardized, functioning a bit like a commodity.
So what do New York City architects do?
They sell other services, including:
- Design services to decide on my floorplan
- Expediting service to get my plans through the DoB faster
- Self-certification that the drawing follows NYC housing code (which skips the DoB review process entirely)
- Contracting services to build my space
- Interior design services to fill my space
- Special inspections to certify that the construction was built exactly as the drawings suggest
In addition to the commoditized part, I only want numbers 3 and 6.
And amusingly, I have not found any architects who sell exactly 3 and 6.
Most are wary to sell #3 (as self-certifying prompts future headache if they’re audited). And some lack the license to complete #6.
I want to buy procedural functions (skip the line; complete the inspections). Most architects want to sell something creative (floorplan help; interior design).
The fundamentals of NYC architecture work are procedural. Architects are the followers of code, the performers of measurers, the drawers of drawings, the providers of signature, and the submitters of their official stamp. But 1) That stamp is therefore not particularly valuable (it’s a saturated market); and 2) Most people who became architects did so out of some desire to be creative.
However…
“I don’t want your creativity. I respect your creativity; I just don’t want to buy it. I actually want to bypass your functions as quickly as possible.”
… has thusfar not been a successful pitch. Not even when paired with “I will pay you an increased rate for it.”
Where are the architects who got into this business because they like to measure spaces and reproduce them accurately on giant sheets of paper?
I want to meet those architects…
and pay them very little.
Julian Wise 