Tag: New York

Know what you’re hiring for (Apr 15 2026)

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As long as you do your job 🙂 

My contractor is excellent. Exquisite. Delightful. Perfect for the price point. 

His project manager is new.
Not in a bad way.
In a just-moved-to-the-U.S.-from-Pakistan-where-he-used-to-be-an-architect way.
In a living-with-eight-relatives-out-in-the-boonies way.
In a this-is-his-first-project-at-his-new-job-in-a-new-country way.
In a hungry way. 

Yesterday, he sent me a long email saying we need to stick to timeline.
I replied appreciating him for his work and telling him, respectfully, that the delays have all been on his side.
I also texted the contractor to follow up about a question he and I had discussed thrice, but that the project manager had a different conclusion on.
I received a reply that included both the answer I expected and a note that he was looking forward to seeing me tomorrow.
I replied: tomorrow? That works, but did we have a scheduled appointment? 

And at 8:36am, Partner prods me in my half-torporious slumber to say that project manager is en route.
I check my email. At 5am, the project manager emailed to say we were meeting at 9am. 

The amusing part is: this is actually fine. None of these minor hiccups have actually been problematic for the specific job I want him to do.
And also, if his timing is a bit slower because he’s green, we’ve signed a sufficiently solid contract to be okay in that eventuality. 

I’m still very sure that the project manager is a good fit, and that the contractor is excellent.
I’m also suspicious that the project manager might have been up all night working on my project. (He said he had sent the 5am email “last night” and I’m not sure when he slept before taking the metro north train in.)
And that he dresses differently depending on whether he is going to meet designers (black turtleneck on one occasion, stylish black t-shirt on another) or subcontractors (blue jeans and a baseball cap).
Lol.
Keep up the good work! 

Vandals & Volition (Apr 14 2026)

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Why can’t we all want the same things? 

Just outside our apartment, walking to The Park, Partner & I spotted a man kick a trash can. The can fell on its side, languishing in the street. 

Despite having an appointment in 40 minutes and Google Maps informing me the walk would take 38 minutes, I stopped to right the can. I lifted first its outer shell, plopping it back in its rightful place on the sidewalk, then its inner catching chamber, inserting this chamber into the shell. 

Walking away, I felt both smug and nervous. I caught myself sneaking glances at the vandal who had tipped it over. Will he notice? Come after me? Have I regressed the impact of his righteous fury, thereby inspiring it against myself? 

Just as I entered the park, he looked back toward the can, object of his anger. Noticing it was tipped, he crossed back across 7th avenue, re-set himself in the same position, and kicked it over again. 

And I, already too far and with other things to do, continued on with my day. 

Three hours later, I returned to find the can replaced in its proper location, save for the lid slightly open. Some other Good Samaritan must have contributed to the fight against entropy. 

But I’ll always remember the kicker’s determination. How inspiring it must be to have a clear, defined purpose. 

—

I found it: the best article ever written in America. I laughed. I cried. I hungered. I grew. Deeply worth the experience, especially for those of us who care about the journey of food and the food of journeying.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/2026/05/best-free-restaurant-bread-america/686582/

—

And a quote from April 8th: 

“How come you’re incredibly detail-oriented when reading a contract?” – Partner, fishing out an egg from the pot of eggs I sous vided last night and clearly just missed one when I put them away.

Selections & Sewage (Apr 13 2026)

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In which Our hero explores options. 

Click here for the accompanying video. 

Today, Partner and I visited an appliance showroom. Here’s what we learned: 

  • Shower heads come with flow rate limiters. The national legal maximum is 2.5 gallons per minute. You can remove your flow rate limiter, as the salesman at the showroom once did. His shower subsequently shot water with such force that it knocked the shower door clean off and flooded his bathroom. 
  • If you buy a thermostatic shower handle, you can have infinite separate shower heads all pointing at you. The shower heads are each limited at 2.5 gallons per minute. The thermostatic valve caps out at 14 gallons per minute. So even with three shower heads you won’t lose water pressure! All you have to do is ensure you’re shipping the showerhead to a state that does not have more restrictive requirements (California and New York both cap showerheads at 1.8 gallons per minute)
  • Some faucets cost $150. Some cost $800. Some cost $2400. They all dispense water. The $800 vs $2400 is cosmetic. The $150 vs $800 can be functional. 
  • The cheapest toilets and the expensive toilets both will ultimately contain sewage. The cheapest toilets don’t have glazed piping, so over time the sewage will accumulate in the pipe. The mid-range vs expensive toilets are functionally equivalent, just with different aesthetics and different ease of cleaning the part that doesn’t touch sewage. 
  • No one makes a bidet seat in black. 
  • Everyone likes a toto toilet, especially if you’re getting one with a bidet. I’m not convinced. I enjoy a vigorous stream when shooting water around my anus. The toto toilets I have used are disappointing in this context. 
  • Linear drains (long, thin rectangular ones) in New York City are much more expensive than normal, square drains since they must legally be made of more expensive materials. 
  • Steam showers cost $5k, minimum. 
  • Neither Partner nor I like rain head showers. Our dislike, according to the showroom attendant, is a common perspective. 
  • I will likely be able to realize my dream of three showerheads all at once. Bully for me! 
  • One model of toilet costs just over $26,000. It is not made of gold. I did get to sit on it.

The empty longing of a holding pattern. (Apr 12 2026)

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In which Our Hero yearns. 

When a plane doesn’t yet have a safe runway available, the control tower tells the captain to “go around again”. The captain circles and circles, awaiting the change in this external event that will enable the hundreds of passengers to continue on with their lives. No one enjoys a holding pattern. Quite the opposite: it is during these unenjoyable intervals that we find ourselves “killing time”. 

The last few weeks have been versions of this activity. I’ve forwarded key aspects of incredible importance (my eye surgery; Partner’s jaw surgery complications fixing; Partner’s medical malpractice case; apartment renovations; my work). Yet we – Partner and I – are not living the lives we wish. 

We lift weights more days than not. We amble through the most beautiful park in the greatest city in the world. We cook and eat food that we enjoy. We watch Jeopardy over lunch or dinner, shouting out the answers we know (and a roughly equal number that we don’t). 

But still, we wish for more community. 

We moved into this apartment with the intent of living with others. Now, 2.5 months in, renovations have not started. They might not for another month. Then add 4 months for the renovations themselves. And it could be – probably will be – over half a year before we live with roommates we like, hosting weekly dinners and playing board games and shouting out Jeopardy answers with more than just ourselves. 

This period – this holding pattern – weighs on me. 

There’s no point establishing clear patterns and habits and routines when they will all change in a month. No point improving the infrastructure or systems in a home that will literally have different walls. No reason to stabilize on processes of engagement with my roommate (Partner) when we’ll need to live elsewhere for a while and then return to a different home. 

So we set ourselves on a month-long horizon. We establish temporary patterns. We work, and lift weights, and reach out to friends. We enjoy what we can. 

But still, each day, I want more. 

I want what we’re building. I want at least 5 people living here. I want to cook meals with others, to establish a weekly “Come over for dinner on Tuesday!” that invites a half-dozen people. A board game group and a poker group. I miss those activities. I miss them, though I’ve never had them. 

And that weight – the weight of wanting what I don’t have – is a heavy burden

for at least the next month. Or two. Or four. Or six. Or….

Everyone Starts a Stranger (Apr 11 2026)

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In which, new friends.

“And thanks for inviting two strangers into your house,” the six-foot-six south Indian computer scientist/theater double-major said just before leaving. 

Later, Partner and I laughed at this comment. We don’t even think of such an invitation as odd. We didn’t invite strangers into our house. We invited new friends. 

We talk to strangers. It’s a chosen relationship (and future family) policy. We met this pair at a NYC alumni event for my high school on Thursday. The conversation flowed smoothly; they seemed like fun, smart, and pleasant chaps. We exchanged contact information. I input mine with a funny contact photo of myself. Later, he texted me a picture of himself mimicking that photo. 

Today we learned they don’t even know each other very well: they met a few weeks ago and became rock climbing buddies. (How droll: one brought the other to a highschool reunion without even knowing him well!)

We had them over today for lentils and conversation. The night ended with a game of Mario Party. 

The value of talking to strangers cannot be overstated. The humor – to me – of two people meeting two other people and it being *surprising* when one pair invites the other pair over for dinner… prompts a little sadness in me. While I am undoubtedly top few percentile in frequency of meeting strangers and inviting them to events, at least one of those two found the concept foreign. Pleasant, but foreign. Two college grads from last year, have they not socialized in this way? Had I, when I was in college, gone to others’ house for dinner? 

Yes. Or some facsimile. 

I remember my now-fiancée and her then-roommate (and bestfriend) inviting me to their off-campus house for drinks. She texted to ask what my drink of choice was. I replied, “whiskey sour”. I will always remember her stirring the simple syrup on the stove, explaining how it was becoming a super-saturated solution. 

Most of all, I remember the kindness of her acquiring the items to make my favorite drink. That, and her laugh. What a blessing that I may have that laugh with me forever. 

Repetition DOES NOT Equal Boredom (Apr 5 2026)

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In which Our Hero meets a new sort of show

The weirdest part of the Baptist Easter services was the repetition.
Say it again: The weirdest part of the Baptist Easter services was the repetition. 

Listen to me now: 

At 9:30am, Partner and I walked north into Harlem. We approached one church on the right. The church was welcoming people inside. We entered. The deacon at the door introduced us, mentioning there is a $10 admission to the service. Partner found this charge unacceptable. We left. You shouldn’t charge admission to Easter services.
Say it with me now: You shouldn’t charge admission to Easter services. 

We continued onwards up north. A few blocks later, we arrived at a second church. More active, more bustling, with bright colors adorning all the flock milling about. We joined the line to enter. Security wanded us, patted me down. We ascended to the second floor balcony of the former theater. We joined. 

And ‘allelujah, did we experience His flock. 

The singing began at 9:54am. It did not stop – I say it did not stop – until 11am. 

At 11am, the service stopped for an ad break. The Hope Network and the church itself both advertised (the latter for donations). 

Then, 11:05am. The pastor – pastor Mike – enters the stage. This man has the sort of presence that demands a $180 ticket to his 55th birthday party (on a yacht around Manhattan, cash bar, advertised during the ad break). He starts with the text. Of course he starts with the text. And oh boy oh boy does he go deep with the text. 

Deep. But not wide. Deep. 

What juice can we squeeze out of these four lines of text? And how many times can we repeat it?
There is… profound juice to be squeezed from this one line of text. 

I said: this juice can be squeezed.

Now turn to three people near you and share the message: There is. Juice. To squeeze. 

A 45 minute sermon. Fewer than 9 points total. 

The sermon was the opposite of boring. It was repetitive and grand and communal and physical. It was not wide. It contained 1) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; 2) Inviting the congregation to repeat the thesis of the sermon to their neighbors; 3) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; 4) Raising the audience up to standing; 5) Seating the audience with the wave of a hand; 6) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; and of course 7) Repeating… 

Of all my experiences at church, this was my most enjoyable. Partner commented, only half-jokingly: “Our kids might become the only white atheist Hispanics Jews in the Baptist choir.” 

I’m reminded of the Grand Texas Megachurches I visited in Austin back in 2019.
Those subtly (or sometimes obviously) wormed their messages into your minds.
Their leaders funneled away money while allegedly practicing various Good Deeds. 

This church made no promises. It gave some advice. But it was all vibe. 

Upon leaving this church, I felt energized. 

At the end of my faith healing in the Austin megachurch, three separate individuals invited me to come back to church. I never did. 

But next year, with this Baptist church?
There may be more juice to squeeze. 

Forging the Foundation (Mar 25 2026)

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Measure twice, cut once. 

15 contractors interviewed, of which: 

  • 4 fired me on the first call when I wouldn’t tell them a budget. 
  • 2 submitted proposals without walkthroughs, of which:
    • One was way too high, with unreasonable structural terms that brought to mind the anger of a jilted lover. 
    • One was nondescript. (I guess that’s what you get when you don’t even do a walkthrough.) 
  • 9 visited for walkthroughs, of which:
    • 1 started as the leader of the pack; I then realized he was making me worry about the wrong things. 
    • 1 wears Carhartt to “dress the part”, but has no actual substance along with this appearance. 
    • 1 mis-estimated the size of my apartment by about 3x after looking at architectural drawings. 
    • 3 never sent proposals (lol!)
    • 1 came in so low as to seem scammy. They also call me every other day, even though I haven’t replied in weeks (lol.) 
    • 2 seemed reasonable, of which:
      • 1 failed to refer me to their recommended architect when I requested (and then stopped talking to me for reasons uncertain, but perhaps that I answered honestly his question “What are you thinking about our proposal?” with “You’re currently second place in my final three”.) 
      • 1 has nailed down scope and is finalizing contract terms.
        • UPDATE THREE HOURS LATER: WE HAVE SIGNED. I HAVE A CONTRACTOR. WOOHOO!!! 

I really don’t think I’m a problem client.
I wouldn’t mind working with me.
I would need to be clear about expectations and boundaries.
I would need to feel comfortable saying, “That’s a no from me, dawg.” 

But I’m not a blocker.
I care about quality and enabling my team to succeed.
And when I say I’ll do something, I do it. 

And in return, the contractor will receive: 

  1. Money. Lots of money.
    1. Incredulous question: How the hell do people buy renovations without negotiating scope or terms? Some of these were shocking:
      1. I saved at least 10% on the total cost by simply saying “this seems high” to a bunch of terms and he came down on them. 
      2. I saved at least 15% by simply saying “What is this thing?” and then saying “We don’t need it” when the price was higher than my value. Recessed shelf in shower for $2100? Nope. Stone step in front of shower for $500? Nope. If it ain’t functional, good chance I don’t want it. 
  2. Referrals. Multiple referrals.
    1. Because I vet my contractors and vendors aggressively, peers take my advice. My sister is about to renovate her apartment. Is she going to spend 5 months going from 15 to 9 to 3 to 1? Or will she trust that my analysis is worthwhile (and even just use my contract structure, which I went back-and-forth with him on four times, lol.) 
  3. Focus and edits and improvements, oh my!
    1. One part of my contractor’s contract had him proposing usurious terms in case of nonpayment. A quick google showed these as 1) non-enforceable, and 2) a criminal violation! Like very illegal!! A totally reasonable person might have let him keep those terms. But I told him how to improve them. And now he’ll probably fix his standard contract. That’s nice. 

My contractor search started in September. Today, it is March 26th. This may be the second biggest personal purchase I ever make (after the home itself). Shouldn’t I do it right? 

Co Op Corruption (Mar 25 2026)

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In which ugh you’re so annoying… … …. 

The property management company emailed me. URGENT, the subject line says. Leak in my line. Two floors down. From my apartment ??? !!! ??? !
They offered tomorrow. What times can I do?
Any time from 10:30am to 5pm.
Okay; the plumber will arrive between 9 and 11am. 

Wait, what?
I offered 10:30am to 5pm. That 6.5 hour span. You can’t just say a different time. 

My tone was clear, direct, and firm. I did not say, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I did not say, “It’s unreasonable behavior like this that makes our apartment building want to fire you… which, by the way, is our third priority for this year.”
I told them no. I offered today instead. I also said that they could send their person tomorrow before 10:30am if he’s okay waiting in the hallway. 

This experience reminds me of the time they replied to my query email with a completely incomplete set of information. You know, the time I asked a very simple, reasonable question about sequencing A or B first, and their answer said, “IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO…” and then missed the actual meat. Like the sender accidentally deleted the email right before hitting send. 

Or the time they owed me two key fobs to my apartment building and told me they’d deliver them on Wednesday. But Wednesday came and went. So she promised me Monday. But Monday was a blizzard. So definitely this week. Except Friday came: no fobs. So the following Tuesday, when I called, she said, “They’re coming today”. 

Sure. It happened. So I guess that’s a win.
What’s not a win?
The two week delay. 

Shortly after moving in, I asked my building’s superintendent why the management company is so incompetent. He said they take kickbacks from the repair people they send out. 

Dispatch from the building’s shareholder meeting: everyone hates the management company. They orchestrated the fixing of the facade. No feasibility study was done ahead of time and it ended up costing $870k, which everyone was surprised by. $70k of it was the cost of scaffolding alone as the scaffolding was up for TWO YEARS.

Someone else complained that they received a bill from the management company for $300 for a painter they sent out. “They charged me $300 for a four foot painter! He couldn’t even paint nothing because he didn’t bring no ladder and he was four feet tall!”

There were probably 2-3 other complaints, including about dead door lock batteries (leading to inability to open the package room for 6 days), poor heat (they control the computer-controlled thermostat), and egregious fees, all targeted at the management company.

It’s time to fire! 😀

Fast, Delayed (Mar 13 2026)

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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)

JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero butts up against the stupidest. 

Our world contains two types of problems: 

  1. Problems of physics/math
  2. 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.