Tag: New York

In the Spirit (Feb 23 2026)

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In which? IN THE SPIRIT! 

In the spirit of my yesterday writing, here are relatively trivial items I’m happy with: 

  1. Frolicking in the snow with Partner at 10pm yesterday in Central Park.
    1. I acquired a stick. A great stick. A passerby said, “That’s a great stick, man.” Some sticks are great. 
    2. Partner and I scaled the steps atop the ice rink. We passed two late-20s men who smelled like weed and soap. “Stay safe,” one of them told us. “Make sure you get out.”
      1. Partner & I both remarked how similar New York City is to Burning Man. 
    3. At the ice rink, a worker used a snowblower to shift snow from atop the ice to another place atop the ice. Then he used the snowblower to shift the snow back to its original location. I’m still not sure what he’s trying to accomplish. I suspect he either is failing or paid hourly. 
  2. I awoke at 6:30am thinking about all the quotidian aspects I’ve been enjoying.
    1. The review of 8 contracts for home renovators. 
    2. The simple pleasure of being able to host. 
    3. The comedy of being awoken by a THUNK-THUNK-THUNK at 6:30am and immediately fearing it’s someone banging on the door of your van, then recalling you haven’t lived in a van for almost a year.
      1. It’s still not clear what caused the THUNK-THUNK-THUNK. Snow falling? Radiators clanging? Someone actually knocking on our door? My hypothesis: GREMLINS!
    4. The sadness + regret for leaving your bedding with the man who bought your van, him promising to deliver it to you in New York when you closed on the house. He delivered it well enough. But he also washed one of the blankets, a dry-clean-only item that had been a gift from dear friends in Texas, and which will now never be as soft as it once was.
      1. The memory of accidentally doing a similar thing to another friend’s blanket. I borrowed it for a picnic; it acquired burrs, and I began picking them out by hand. Wanting to avoid me the trouble of picking them all out, he washed it and it developed piles. I don’t really blame yourself for the actual ruining of it: I would have picked it back to pristine. But the spirit is similar. 😔
  3. Partner: “Can you squish…” and points downward. I start squeezing her right foot. She laughs. “Can you squish the ottoman toward me? I like the default to the footrub, though. I do usually request that as, ‘Could you squish my feet?’” 
  4. In Central Park, Partner said, “What’s that?” And pointed at the ground. I inspected. She clarified: “No, that!”. I looked closer. She grabbed a hunk of snow with her arms and shoveled it in my face. 
  5. On 105th street, between Columbus and Amsterdam, Partner & I walked by some strangers. They had been throwing snowballs at each other. One of them asked, “Snowball fight?” as he walked past. Partner & I kept walking. Then three steps later, I wheeled around and whipped a snowball at him. We attacked back and forth for a while, until a man approached our makeshift war and said, “please don’t hit me with one of those.” We paused the thirty seconds for him to pass, then threw more snowballs at each other.
    1. An hour later, Partner happened upon these same strangers while walking down the street. One of them yelled “That’s our enemy!” and the fight reprised. 

Ahh. Are these not the joys of life? 

(I also completed 4 financial administrative tasks of necessity: opening a credit card; moving a bank account; creating an LLC; closing an LLC. But those, dear reader, are the mere mechanics that allow life’s joys to whir.) 

A Half-Baked Production (Feb 18 2026)

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In which Our Hero has a crusty good time. 

The worst theatrical performance I’ve ever observed occurred in an off-broadway theater this afternoon from 2pm to 4pm. 

Experiential quality is the delta between expectation and outcome. 

This play, which retails for $55 per seat, but which my partner and I observed for a steep discount, prompted my partner to say, “We spent more money getting to and from the show, which is appropriate.” (We took the subway.) 

Issues included: 

  1. An actor flubbing her line, saying “first anniversary” instead of “fiftieth anniversary” in a very-obvious-to-everyone manner. 
  2. Plot point problems being invented only to be immediately resolved. It’s like Chekhov always said: “If a gun appears on stage in act 1, it better be fired within 5 seconds, lest any theatrical tension develop.” (That’s not the real meaning, duh.)
  3. A lead actor who had no light in his eyes. No joy on his face. No radiance whatsoever. When he sang about the weather – about his love for the wonders of the natural world – I received no awe. Only cringe. He hit his notes, his lines were clear and well inflected, he simply had no pleasure to share. 

A year or two ago, I watched my partner’s brother-in-law perform in a small town musical. He played Linus in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. I left that performance appreciating the heart that the performers shared with us that day. I left with a new, darker view of the character of Charlie Brown. I left disillusioned with the influential characters I had formerly seen as simplistic. I asked questions like, “How have the archetypes of that generation’s comics/cartoons shifted and morphed as the American experience has changed over generations?” 

This play ended with the explicit moral “The real success was the friends we made along the way”. 

I’m not kidding. 

It wasn’t even tongue-in-cheek, self-aware. The writers seemed to actually think that was an acceptable moral. Or else the whole play is an over-the-top self-mocking farce that the director and actors failed to recognize. And then, why were the characters lit in purple for that one scene? Some avant-garde nod to Grimace? (Per my ex-professional-lighting-designer partner, “The lighting designer was incapable of changing the mood through anything but LED color washes and the colored lights weren’t powerful enough to properly light the scene and be visible.”)

Around 3/4ths of the way through the first act, when the characters on stage mention they’re about to go to intermission (they were performing in a TV program), I thought, “Ah, a fun meta-joke: Their intermission will be exactly the same time as ours.” Then, when their intermission struck, ours wasn’t for another 15 minutes! Another man in the audience clearly thought the same thing, as he stood up and then confusedly sat back down. 

Woof. 

My favorite part was before the show started, when a woman behind me narrated everything she was doing. “I like standing up so I don’t have to get up when people need to pass me. I hate shuffling by people and I am thoughtful and don’t want to make people shuffle by me. Oh, the row is now full, I will now sit,” she said to no one in particular. “It’s very stuffy in here. Very stuffy with all these people,” she said wearing a kn95 mask, her row full, but the theater only one-third full.

As my partner put it, “It was fun to sit near the woman who had to narrate everything out loud. I wonder what her IQ is.”

As that woman narrated just before the show started: “I do hope it’s a good performance.” 

I also hoped it would be a good performance. 

It was not. 

-1 star. 

The New Jehovah’s on Floor 6 (Feb 17 2026)

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A day of cleansing. 

Some days are not our own. This is equally true for my partner (who has a cold, and therefore feels lacking in her control of day) and for me (who spent today sweeping up loose detritus, most of which weren’t created by me). 

Here’s what I did: 

  1. Called the bank attorney who has now messed up my apartment closing 3x. She promises she now has a fix. She thinks it will work. Their mistakes have cost me $100. I have very little recourse that is likely to succeed, and none that are worth the cost in time. 
  2. Answered my mortgage bank’s “How likely would you be to recommend us?” survey with a 2/10. The survey included a box asking whether there had been issues, and if so, whether they had been resolved. Considering I am currently owed just north of $3k, I said there are issues that had not been resolved. I also left my phone number and email in case someone there wants to get in touch with me. I would very much enjoy ranting about stories of being sent on wild goose chases at midnight in rural France or the $50,000+ in escrow checks left at my attorney’s office after closing thanks to incompetent bankers. 
  3. I met a fellow resident in the elevator. She said, “Are you the new jehovah’s on floor 6?”, to which I said, “I’m sorry?” and she repeated, “Are you the new shareholders on floor 6?” 
  4. I successfully acquired a new credit card for my partner. With renovations impending, now is the time to hit signup bonuses. Let’s get ‘dem points. 
  5. After much harranguing, Peloton gave me a free month. I completed my first Peloton ride today. Big fan of their product. 
  6. A contractor stopped by for a walkthrough. This brings the total number of contractors I’ve interviewed to ~12. Of those, three are in the final running. One is most likely. It is no coincidence that this one is the one with the most detailed scope document and is the only one who offers a timeline guarantee. 

Somehow it is now 9:44pm and I feel like I have only been completing others’ activities. 

Huh. 

Perhaps tomorrow will be my own. 

Step-by-Step Instructions (Feb 15 2026) 

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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: 

  1. Date her friend 
  2. Have a threesome with her and another one of her friends (not the one you were dating) 
  3. Let 10+ years pass 
  4. An AI matchmaker pairs you
  5. Schedule a 3-day-long camping trip as your first date 
  6. Extend date to 10 days long, ending only when one of you comes down with Covid 
  7. Wait 2 weeks <cough, cough> 
  8. As a second date, she moves into your van, and the two of you drive across the country together
  9. Attempt to purchase a house together in Puerto Rico within the first 6 months
  10. Backpack though Europe together
  11. Break up 
  12. Attend clown school together in France
  13. Get back together 
  14. Put down a deposit to buy an apartment 
  15. Buy life insurance on each other 
  16. 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. 

Free fridge: frustration not included. (Feb 13 2026)

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In which Our Hero <grumblegrumblegrumble> 

Two days ago I acquired a free fridge. My partner and I wheeled it home: 6 short blocks and 1 long block. Arriving home, we spent 1.5 hours removing fridge doors and apartment doors just to learn it’s slightly too large. 

No bother: another person in the Facebook free group can take it. We text yesterday and she offers to pick it up today between 2 and 3pm. I confirm. 

Today I tell her 2:45pm is ideal. 

She says fine. 

At 2:30pm, I say I’m around and ready. She says she’s delayed: would 3pm work? 

I say that timing is worse for me, but we could do it if it’s exactly that time. 

At 3, she tells me 3:30. She gives me the phone number of “her uncle”, who is coming to pick it up. I call. He says he’s 15 minutes away. 

They finally arrive at 4:15. It’s not her uncle: it’s a moving company that she paid $350 to move the fridge for her. 

This entire time I’m pissed. Sure, I’m doing work from home that I would just be doing across town with my partner. It’s not the impact on my productivity: it’s the disrespect. I’m giving you a free fridge. 

I glance at her Facebook page. She is a single mother of two. 

It’s a hard spot: on the one hand, I’d like to help someone in need. On the other, she made my day worse. 

And, like, never even said thank you. 

What did I learn? 

  1. Especially when being kind/helpful/generous, establish what I can do and when. Let others fit it. 
  2. Use the time better. The angry/annoyed time could have been better spent. 

I’m considering messaging her to say “Hey, just an FYI: your misestimating of timing by 1.5hrs made my day much worse. If you had given a more accurate window, or even told me it was a wide window, I would have been able to plan better.” 

Would I feel better? Yeah. Would she do better? Unlikely to do worse! 

There is probably no justice to be had here. We’re talking about a free fridge handoff, after all. 

But even without justice, perhaps we can inject some humanity. 

But the People are Reasonable (Feb 10 2026)

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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.

On Printing & Permissioning (Feb 9 2026)

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I have always depended on the kindness of loopholes.  

I applied for my NYC ID today. 

I brought my passport for proof of identity and utility bill for proof of address. 

The receptionist rejected my utility bill since it was digital. 

I don’t have a printer. The receptionist said I could go to UPS across the street to use their printer. But it costs $5. 

I asked, “Could I use your printer?”

“We can’t print applicant materials,” she replied. “It’s against policy.” 

“What do you do when a homeless person comes in?” 

“They have a letter from the shelter.” 

“What about someone who’s too poor to print?” 

“They have a letter.” 

“Is there any way I could use your printer.” 

“No.” 

Walking out, I saw a cop in the lobby. I approached his desk. Unprompted, he said, “Bathroom?” 

I said, “I got a quick question for you. I need to print something for my appointment. But I just moved here: I don’t have a printer. Could you help me out?” 

He said, “Yes, but you’ll need to email it to me”, then gave me a wet and bent business card. I emailed him the PDF. 

Then, the best part: he used the printer in the IDNYC office! He walked in past the receptionist, retrieved the document from her printer, walked back out with the printed copy, handed it to me, at which point I walked it back in. 

The receptionist said, “Thanks for coming back. Did they charge you $5?” 

I said, “I printed somewhere else”. 

When leaving, I told her, “By the way, the cop out front can print. So you can send people to him instead.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” 

I wonder if she’ll ever find out it’s her printer. 

Anger & Elation (Feb 8 2026)

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In which annoyance passes and delight arrives 

This morning I wrote an angry email. To someone who has done me wrong. Done me wrong in at least two ways. And now, a third. 

In buying this apartment, I worked with many people. Some more competent, some less. But this particular person was in charge of the majority of the paperwork and timeline. And is responsible for 1) much of the work not starting until three days before closing (despite having 4 months to complete it and it being scheduled to be a three month process); 2) sending me out looking for a printer at 11pm in suburban France because she needed a wet signature on something that actually later turned out to not be wet signature; and 3) now needing me to do something after closing that both isn’t my job and exposes me to liability, but which I need to have happen since it’s my money on the line. 

So I wrote an angry email. An appropriately angry email. Not one filled with emotion. One that tells her that I don’t accept this scenario and if needed I will find someone else, higher up on her team to fix it. 

This got me thinking about the recent social shaming of people who ask to speak to managers. 

In many of our commercial situations, it’s one of the few powers that individuals do have. In my case, it’s a large national bank where someone’s screwed up thrice, but I’ve had to be nice and cheery and pleasant about it because I needed their future cooperation. But now, that deal is complete. I don’t need her positivity: I need her to solve this. 

How much of our recent social shaming of Karens is an implicit political backhand slapping of assertive women? I’ve never thought it appropriate to shame that function. (Entitledment, sure. But that doesn’t strike me as the main element of a Karen.) 

I’ve never respected any generalized term that uses a person’s name as a metonymy. (Karen; Chad; more recently, Kyle.) They tend to engage in the bad type of stereotyping. 

This is to say I don’t mind behaving in a manner that others might describe as Karenly. 

So tonight, I sleep. And tomorrow, maybe I send. 

It’s no fun to be done with a thing and then be told you’re not done. 

—

Tonight I hosted a superbowl party. I love the superbowl. It’s the most patriotic I get every year. Football, advertising, halftime show: there’s something for everybody. 

I created a little gambling game. My partner and I made nachos. We used the event as an excuse to get cake. 

It’s nice to live somewhere. 

I look forward to building community. 

Hibernation (Feb 7 2026)

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In which Our Hero sweeps (metaphorically; he has a robot vacuum for the literal.)

At the end of today, I felt like I didn’t do anything. That can be the feeling of administrative days. When you pare the 111 emails in your inbox down to 18. When you build a bedframe and run the cables for your internet from in-the-way to out-of-the-way. It feels a bit like vacuuming: worth doing, not super satisfying while you’re doing it, but at the end it’s much easier to take new steps. 

Today, we hosted my sister’s family. For 8 days, I’ve lived in this space. Added furniture, cooking equipment, etc. And today, we ate brunch: four adults, one toddler. Ample food, sufficient tea, and comfy places to sit. We talked about the apartment remodel and our favorite places in the area. ‘Twas incredibly adult. 

After brunch, my partner and I walked to the hardware store and The Park. These might sound like simple endeavors, but New York feels like a tundra like now – negative 14ºF after windchill. 

Last Saturday at 9pm I heard sirens outside my apartment. Not attending to anyone nearby, I suspect: just taking this street to their destinations. Tonight? No sirens. Bitter cold stifles movement. 

Today was a great day to visit a neighbor who needed a screwdriver and use her iron to attach a patch to some clothing.

Tomorrow is the Super Bowl. Inspired by my love for this holiday, I shall host a party. 

Like today, I hope both teams win.

Butting Heads to Move Ahead (Feb 6 2026)

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“I have always depended on the incentives of strangers.” 

Three days ago I called my property management company. I said my windows wouldn’t close and my door lacked a knob. They said the same company would service both. And that company would call me. 

Yesterday I emailed my property management company. I said the window/door servicer hadn’t called. They replied that if I didn’t hear by 1pm I should tell them. 

At 1pm I emailed the property management company, “They haven’t called me”. 

At 1:04pm, the window/door servicer called me. He said, “We can come by tomorrow afternoon”.

I said, “Tomorrow at noon is good”. 

“After noon,” he corrected. 

“What time?” 

“After noon”. 

“Can you do at noon?” 

“We can do between noon and four.” 

“Can you do noon?” 

“My team has other jobs they’re doing. We can do tomorrow between noon and four or between two and four”. 

“Can you do between noon and two?” 

<Pause> “Yes, we can do between noon and two”. 

—

An hour later, I called him back. 

“It’s Julian Wise. We scheduled for your team to come tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can we reschedule to Monday?” 

“Yes. I’ll call you tomorrow or Saturday to schedule a time.” 

“Thank you.” 

—

This experience feels quintessentially New York to me. Here’s how: 

  1. Someone has a very specific set of constraints they’re not willing to budge from. They’re not un-reasonable, just very specific. 
  2. When you keep poking, they hold their ground. They’re trying to help, just constrained by unseen forces. (Their scheduling software? Their team’s unpredictability? Poor foresight skills that their behavioral systems compensate for?) 
  3. When you find a creative solution, they’re open to it, just within their world. (If he can do between noon and four or between two and four, he might-should be able to do between noon and two. He just didn’t realize it, but is open to it). 
  4. When schedules change, we accept this immediately. Is there anger that we spent 15 back-and-forths only for me to reschedule him? Of course not. 

This particular culture makes sense to me. Perhaps it’s the impact of its brand of economics, but I do well in cultures of high diversity and high commerce. In these environments, culture tends to evolve out of commerce: highly accepting, so long as you figure out the economics. 

And I enjoy economics. 

—

In other news, my super knocked on my door yesterday afternoon. He asked if my sink worked. I said only one of the three does. He offered to swing back to fix it. Is he bored? Does he want another slice of pizza? Is he curious whether another $50 is coming his way if he helps? 

Hard to tell. But today he fixed my kitchen sink and left with a slice of pizza in one hand, a soda in the other, and a smile on his face.