Health – Julian Wise

Elbows and Existence (Feb 20 2026)

February 20, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

An infinite array of options; I’ll be aye.

My elbow tenses.

At 32 years old, my first repetitive stress injury.

Second, after a pickleball shoulder.

But this elbow is also a pickleball injury.

Squeezing paddle, sure.

But also the orientation of my elbow as I laid on my back, my computer on my chest for too many hours: the hunched-over curl of a crone despite my then-13 years old.

I hunched today as I did then.

Now I pay.

It’s odd to grow old. To scrape off one’s vigor and exchange passion for comfort. To realize my mind may be and continue to be heading farther away from me, not nearer.

To replace exuberance with action.

Having finished most of the big explore, to replace it with exploit.

Enjoying everyday enough to select it among the infinite.

To have experienced enough to know.

How many have made pilgrimage to Seoul for the finals of your favorite childhood sport?

Ran shirtless in Indonesia?

Meditated in Thailand?

How many have eaten pasta two blocks from the Vatican?

Kayaked the arctic ocean?

Swam the Great Barrier Reef?

Negotiated for tee shirts in Mumbai?

I don’t feel like a life unlived.

I feel like the foundation; the fundamentals of everyday existence:

That those thusfar empties are slowly seeping solid.

I don’t need to see the thousand buddhas again.

I’ve seen them, snapped selfies with silly smirks, stumbled upon the graveyard, and biked home.

Share these with a future wife and children, sure.

Invite my extended family to duck and cheese at my Paris pied-à-terre.

Learn what makes my new brothers laugh.

When the door has opened, why keep knocking?

Step-by-Step Instructions (Feb 15 2026)

February 15, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero reflects on unusual timelines.

People often ask me how I formed such an excellent relationship. (No one has asked me. But let’s assume.)

Here’s my process, in case it helps:

Date her friend
Have a threesome with her and another one of her friends (not the one you were dating)
Let 10+ years pass
An AI matchmaker pairs you
Schedule a 3-day-long camping trip as your first date
Extend date to 10 days long, ending only when one of you comes down with Covid
Wait 2 weeks <cough, cough>
As a second date, she moves into your van, and the two of you drive across the country together
Attempt to purchase a house together in Puerto Rico within the first 6 months
Backpack though Europe together
Break up
Attend clown school together in France
Get back together
Put down a deposit to buy an apartment
Buy life insurance on each other
Within one month:
- Make embryos
- Get engaged
- Buy apartment

We’ve got all the right steps, just not in the normal timeline. Maybe next we have kids before getting pregnant.

To Each Their Own (Valentine’s Day Poem) (Feb 14 2026)

February 14, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero & Partner pen a poem.

She is to fear as I am excitement.

Our poor calibration; our tragic flaws.

Whether biology or culture,

faith or fate,

such is, we agree, a soulmate.

Is this framework unique to us,

or is it self-evident?

Dislike of other comes from framework projection.

Sometimes mine’s better,

sometimes yours.

Neither own all,

nor control wrongly;

Calibration is key.

Before you try to hyperoptimize a process,

be sure you’re optimizing for what you actually want

and not a correlate.

Hate Mail (Feb 11 2026)

February 11, 2026 Julian2 Comments

In which it’s nice to be seen 🙂

My first piece of hate mail arrived in the form of a google document from my partner’s former grad school weightlifting friend. It articulated all the terrible traits that he observed during the long weekend we stayed with him. It included such gems as, “There were multiple occurrences of him saying something to the effect of ‘this happened because of some thing you did Nikki’ or ‘whose fault is this?’ And because he was saying it in a silly way it is expected to be a joke.”

I read this criticism to a clown school friend of mine, who asked, “Oh, so you were doing bits?”

“Yes,” I replied. “One was blaming Nikki for absolutely absurd things that were clearly not her fault, like the weather.”

“That’s a pretty good bit.”

“I agree.”

—

Then, two months ago, I received a second piece of hate mail. This one came as a series of text messages from a fellow clown student. She derided my blog, my relating to other humans, and my analytic approach. I hadn’t spoken with her in ~a month (I had broken my foot and stepped away from clown school), and before that, I recall only neutral-to-positive experiences. Apropos of nothing, she sent me this diatribe.

I have since shared that letter with a few friends. To a person, they describe it as “unhinged” (or various synonyms).

In her hate mail, she made a few good points. My writing was likely alienating to some clown students. Clown school is a beautiful place and a precious gift.

She also took some shots. Specifically, she said I “wasn’t funny yet” (the newsletter was called “Am I Funny Yet?”) and she described my blog as “very public and mediocre”.

After I received that letter from her, I of course didn’t reply. I also of course didn’t alter my writing or publishing schedule. The article I published that day prompted a second screed from her the next day. She – in whatever reality she was experiencing – thought my intervening post had been about her (it had not).

This second screed brought me great joy.

“Ah,” I thought. “How wonderful it is that she reads my blog every day!”

—

I like to live my life in public. I adore New York partly for that reason: meeting strangers and living in an environment where big, bold people are appreciated. I take my shirt off in public. I do so even though I’ve grown breasts.

I also think it’s funny to call a blog about someone’s daily struggles “mediocre”. It’s not polished. It’s not complete. It’s not intended to be either of those. It’s a documentation of my attempts to do new and challenging things; a collection of my thoughts and observations and learnings and experiences. I’ve never been accused of waiting for perfection (and my partner, at least, thinks my life is better for it). That’s one of the clowning lessons: fail more, and befriend your flops.

To quote my partner: “Being mediocre is the first step towards being kinda sorta good at something”.

At present, I have 21 Substack subscribers and 168 subscribers.

I’ve never looked at my stats before. I haven’t cared. I still don’t. But it’s nice to know that her estimate is also true numerically.

So yeah, with my hundred of fans and my abnormal life, I’m proud to be:

Very Public & Mediocre.

But the People are Reasonable (Feb 10 2026)

February 10, 2026February 10, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero continues acquiring junk.

Lack of scams… As yet.

Yesterday, I bought a Peloton. The owner highlighted the three parts of the screen that are slightly buggy. They provided a discount of ~90% off retail, equivalent to ~50% off the going rate for used ones in NYC.

I’m a big fan of Peloton. I’ve used a friend’s at his home. It’s exactly the sort of exercise I enjoy on an approximately-daily basis. I’ve been tracking the used market for the last few weeks.

Spotting this one while my truck-having friend was in town: ‘twas a no-brainer.

At pickup, I rotated the pedals and twisted the resistance knob: a check just in case.

When I arrived home and plugged it in, the item booted up fine. I left it to go to sleep.

The next day, it wouldn’t turn on. The power light blinked. Peculiar.

I used the Peloton website to perform some basic troubleshooting. The results suggested I may require a new power cable. I ordered one (with a 30-day return window) to arrive tomorrow.

I also messaged the seller with these diagnostics, asking if they had experienced this issue. They said they had not, but they asked me to keep them appraised. The tone of their replies suggest that 1) they want me to have a good experience, and 2) if there is an issue, they’d probably refund me something for it.

Thusfar, I’ve bought 3 items from New Yorkers. (Admittedly this couple is technically in West New York, a city in… New Jersey!) And all of them have gone above and beyond with support and help.

New York is perhaps the first place I’ve lived that has actually felt like a community.

The Eyes Have It! (Jan 27 2026)

January 27, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which… conehead?

I awoke this morning at 5:30. By 7:30 I was on the train. At 8:15 I was on the subway. At 8:45 I arrived to my appointment. The appointment lasted from 9:00 to 9:17. By 9:30 I was back on the subway. By 10:00 I was back on the train. At 11:20 I was home.

What 17-minute meeting is worth nearly 4 hours of travel? Why did I awaken so early?

My mind often wakes me early when I have much to accomplish. And today’s was not about the life-changing home purchase I’ve been working on. Today’s was about my eyes.

They’re cones, you see. Becoming them, at least. My sister used to refer to me (affectionately?) as cone-eye.

And cones, as any optician will tell you, do not make ideal lenses.

After ten years of wanting and wishing and wandering, I’ve finally found a surgeon who should be able to get me the perfect vision I’ve always wanted (sans glasses).

I had an appointment with a member of his team 6 months ago, and then again today to confirm the measurements are stable. (I.e. my eyes have concluded their cone-becomingness.)

They have.

We have.

In 14 days I will consult with this surgeon.

One, or two, or perhaps six days later he will slice open my eye to add a new lens.

One week after that, he will repeat with the other eye.

Then,

shall

see

Mellow and Dramatic (Jan 26 2026)

January 26, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero mellows in the drama

Today was the first day of the second term. I’m not there. I’m in Etampes, four minutes walk from the school. I walked earlier today by the train station cafe that doubles as the student haunt. Yet I’m not there. Do I miss it?

Today my mother and I dawdled down a classic Parisian street. Over lunch we swapped plates four times so we could experience what the other was eating. An Eastern European tourist offered us alcohol at Jim Morrison‘s tombstone. A California native gushed his worries about American politics 10 feet away from Molière corpse.

This evening, my housing purchase was confirmed. After 8 years nomadic (homeless?), it’s time to put down roots. My partner ordered a bed for the empty apartment. I ordered locks for the doors. We’re buying one way flights like we always do, only this time they’re to home.

The clown course I’m missing is melodrama. A fellow student once told me that melodrama is about stretching moments. What should be a five second stroll becomes ten minutes of dramatic, hyper-experienced anguish.

Today stretched. From sprinting for the train to dashing through loan documentation, I was hyper present. Focused. Immersed.

That’s one of the goals (or is it *the main goal* of clown school). Presence. Giving. Moving forward.

I don’t miss melodrama.

I’m excited for my life.

Clown School Break Day 21: The Egg Game

December 12, 2025December 13, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero encounters an eggregious machine.

Walking through the casino today, I saw a brilliant game.
A perfectly engineered one.
A real bad egg.

It’s a slot machine called something like The Egg.

You put in your money. You slap the button.
Standard procedure.
Nothing shell-shocking.

But instead of reels to spin, there’s just an egg on the screen.

Every time you slap, the egg cracks a little more.

And when the egg is fully broken –
crack –
you win a jackpot.

The jackpots (at the $1 play level) range from about $3 to just over $10,000.
All of them are progressive.
They grow the longer you play.

The egg takes a variable number of slaps to break.

It’s a well-made game.
Eggsactly balanced.

Here’s why.

1. It redefines winning.
You will win.
The only question is when.
Just keep putting money in until the egg hatches.

Winning doesn’t feel like if.
Winning feels like eventually.

2. You feel progress.
Every slap cracks the egg a little more.
You’re getting closer.
A chip here, a fracture there.

Are you actually closer?
Who knows.
But it looks like you are, and that’s all your nervous system needs.

3. Everything is a jackpot.
I watched a man spend $70 chasing one $10 jackpot and two $3 jackpots.

He won three times.
He lost $54.

But emotionally, during the process?
Sunny side up.

After he left?
Fried.

4. It’s intelligible.
Most modern slot machines are incomprehensible.
You don’t even know what the rules for winning are until you’ve played for a while.

That confusion creates a false sense of mastery:
“I’m learning the game.”

You are—but learning doesn’t help.

The Egg is different.
Egg → crack → jackpot.
No shell game.
No mystery meat.

Immediate understanding.
Immediate hook.
Egg-ceptionally approachable.

A game egg-zactly positioned to attract newbies.

5. It creates tension – and guarantees release.
The egg will break.
That’s the promise.

When that suspense releases, however,
the yolk (“joke”) will already have been on you.

6. Your action feels causal.
Slap the button.
The egg jiggles.
A crack instantly appears.

Your body doesn’t care about RNGs or payout tables.
Your body says: I did that.

7. You can mash.
On a normal slot machine there’s a pause between spins.
The Egg?
You can mash the button 30 times in 30 seconds.
(I saw a guy mash 70 times in under 3 minutes.)

So if you spend $40 and win $20, you feel frustrated.
And to relieve that frustration:
Have you considered mashing the button?

The feedback loop is tight.
The illusion of control is strong.
The design is…
let’s be honest…
eggstraordinary.

That’s it.

I’ve cracked it.

And now I’m walking away, before I get completely scrambled. 🥚

(Author’s note: I did not actually play the game. I am not a fan of slot machines. I did, however, admire it from afar. Here’s a video of someone playing it.)

Clown School Break Day 18: More than Flavor

December 9, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In Which Our Hero Eats Theater for Dinner

“What do you plan to do after clown school?”

Gonzo theater in NYC
Play with children
Live a damn good life

That’s about it.

Clown School Break Day 5: On Play and Depression

November 26, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero muses on the interaction of these forces.

The question came up at dinner:
What’s the relationship between play and depression?
Is play the antidote? Is the lack of play the cause? Or are they simply two dancers who keep stepping on each other’s toes?

My take:

I love Play. Play is enlivening and delightful and deeply satisfying.
Play is a sign of a healthy environment: one that nurtures the growth and expression of its members.
Some environments don’t require play or can’t support it, especially high-stress or high-stakes ones in intense moments.
If you lack play long enough, you will feel like crap.
If you can’t play with people, you won’t feel good around those people.

Blockers to play:

Lack of safety. If you can’t experiment or express, you shrink. The body contracts. The options narrow. The world gets small.

I often think of depression as a kind of flatness. A greying-out of inner movement. And a lot of what prevents play, at least in my own experience, is fear/anxiety. So the loop becomes:
fear/anxiety → no play → depression.
It’s not the only description of the loop, but it’s a fair one.

Another view:

Maybe depression is fundamentally the lack of experienced pleasure.
If that’s true, then you can find pleasure through play. But also through other avenues, including observation and appreciation.
In that framing, play is one antidote, but not the only one. (And it may not be the proper antidote for a specific situation, nor a permanent fix.)

Still, I think social play is necessary for social satisfaction.
It’s a treadmill you have to keep running on—just enough—for the system to stay stable.
Stop for too long, and you get flung off the end, cascading into a wall of lonesomeness. Start running again, and the world comes back into color.

However, you can’t force play. You can only create the context for it to naturally emerge.
Even if you’re a player?
Even if you’re the game.