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.
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.
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.
Partner thinks today’s post is “suggestive” and “ethically dubious” and “not that flattering”. She has suggested I not publish it publicly. I have therefore personally delivered it to all those who pay to subscribe to my Substack. And the rest of you shall not receive. Muahahahaha.
In which Our Hero navigates three possible suitors.
My most-likely general contractor is honest. That’s good. An honest general contractor will not screw you. They will state the prices and execute what they said. They will pay their subcontractors well. They are hardworking. They follow building code.
My most-likely general contractor is honest. That’s bad. An honest general contractor will assume his subcontractors are also honest and therefore not negotiate with them. He will not push their team to complete the work quickly. He will not skirt around building code when the code is nonsensical.
I’m down to three potential contractors. One of them came in at an absurdly low price. So low I don’t believe him.
The honest one is the most expensive. Not hugely more expensive than the middle guy. But with him, I feel confident about his quality. He gives a 7-year warranty. Most give 5 years or 3 years. I believe in his quality.
The third one is a weird dark horse candidate. I originally spoke with them back in September. They quoted me a number that I then thought was super high. But after future revisions, I realized they’re including much more in scope than others were. So now they’re middle of the pack. Also potentially honest. And maybe hungry. And maybe don’t charge me $2100 for each shower niche.
At least the honest guy, when I mentioned, “$2100 for a shower niche seems high”, replied, “You’re right. Let me check on that.”
So he’s honest. But sometimes honest people assume others are honest. Like his plumber, who came in at 3x market rate.
I once attended a Las Vegas magic show headlined by a former college classmate. Afterwards, I wrote down my analysis: each trick, how I thought it was performed, how I would improve the show, etc. I shared it with the performer. She thanked me, and henceforth no family member of mine has ever paid for show tickets to see her again!
I didn’t do it for the free tickets. I did it to be helpful. But it’s nice to know my work was appreciated 🙂
In similar news:
Pony Cam wrote me back!
They took my advice. Here’s what they said:
Hey mate,
Feedback is great. Really helpful.
We have changed that line to talk about lineage, history and labour. Played it out at today’s matinee. Went really well. Reckon we will keep it.
Sometimes days off are the most exhausting of all.
I feel fear. Fear about the largesse of what I’m doing. Not about the wrongness. Just the largesse.
This morning I awoke excited for a day of poker & bedrot. But my partner (who is currently in San Francisco) texted me about a potluck in Brooklyn. The potluck: 11:30am. Her text: 9:45am. So I sprinted through a 20min Peloton ride and hightailed it to Brooklyn.
I enjoyed the party. Two people who I especially enjoyed. One an excellent storyteller and the other a skilled hypeman.
Then, two hours of poker. I dialed up my social shenanigans while dialing in my poker playing. Crushed the game. Save for one situation where I lost a 47% vs 53% scenario for $100, the cards were win-win-win!
Then, at the subway station en route to a friend’s penis party (more on that later), a woman held out her phone with a picture, asking me how to get to Times Square. Her language sounded familiar. I said, “French?” She said, “Creole”.
I tried French to no avail. Must be too distant from her creole (despite it clearly being French-influenced). I successfully got her to the right station. But it was through a series of sounds and gestures (“boop. Boop. Bing!” means “not this station, not that station, but the one after”.) Sometimes all those years of French class are less effective than the communication skills I’ve recently learned from my year-and-a-half-old nephew!
Finally, at the penis party. 5 years, he’s had it. (A phalloplasty, specifically.) The food? Tacos (heh) and penis-shaped cake (pronounced “cock”).
I liked these folks. Lots of laughs, an Irish catholic lesbian my new favorite among them. Great sense of humor and vibrancy for dark humor in life.
That lesbian is a building examiner. She says if my architect self-certifies, I don’t have a building examiner. That’s nice. Sounds like I’ll pass code!
Walking home from the subway, I’m struck by a few elements:
I’m afraid. Fearful. Terrified. Of becoming house poor. It makes sense to me. I see how people do it.
My community is diverse. This morning’s pot luck was 100% tech or tech-adjacent. My favorite people were a couple of churchgoing presbyterian boarding-school grads. Then, everybody at the party tonight was either trans, jewish, or both (or the plus-one of someone trans or jewish). It’s no coincidence that the host is trans and jewish.
For years I’ve asked, “Who are my people?” At least I’ve found those people self-select. Autistic, definitely. Intellectual, yes. But aside from those traits, I don’t think it’s as clear as it would be for my trans & Jewish friend.
Sometimes I wonder how much we’re carved by influential experiences that we didn’t select. By how much our scars draw us to others who’ve experienced similar.
Then I walk home. Suddenly, I’m all alone. It’s glorious and sad. Lonely and elevated. Freedom and… … …
Criticism is best spoken directly to the creators.
Tonight I experienced excellent performance art. Insightful observations, beautifully executed. What follows is my letter to its creators:
My Dearest Pony Cam,
Thank you for a guffaw-provoking show. I enjoyed it from the Chef’s Table this evening. Both my partner (a trick-or-treating ghost) and I (the diner in the blue hat) will speak very highly of your show to our friends and family.
After leaving and discussing the show with another group of patrons (they recognized me as I was passing their dinner table two blocks away), I have one observation/suggestion for you to think about.
I see merit in the show’s ending (the explicit Ok Go reference, alongside the dance performance of that video). I think that the dance would benefit from a clearer host-to-audience emotional framing before it happens.
Is it cheeky self-aware appreciation of the lineage of treadmill performance art (“That’s the best we can do with treadmills. And here’s the second best…”?
Is it self-effacing (“We know when you return to work on Monday you’ll need some way to tell your colleagues what you saw. You’ll say, “Four people performing on treadmills.” They’ll say, “Oh, like the OKGO music video?” And you’ll say “Yes, exactly like that.” [Cue dance])?
The dance performance felt like an unframed homage. And, after such a beautifully constructed show, it felt like watching an innovative troupe ending with a cover. (Imagine Pink Floyd just ending a concert with a cover (but not making it clear why)). Even just a “We really want to acknowledge our roots” would change the experience, giving that dance meaning rather than only spectacle and (for some people) nostalgia.
Depending on what you’re trying to achieve with the treadmill section, I could imagine a few different framings. I’d love to chat more about your goal here and brainstorm ideas.
Happy to chat about it more, as well as any other aspects of my experience of the show. (And to misuse the idiom, feel free to tell me to go fuck spiders 🙂 Hope this observation is helpful!
One of the worst lessons of the past hundred years is the advice, “Don’t talk to strangers.”
A friend once told me a story. A young woman at a bar in Texas spotted a guy she found attractive. She positioned herself near him. He didn’t approach. His friends left the bar. He left with them. She gathered her friends. Her friends followed his friends to the next bar. At the next bar, he didn’t approach her. Eventually, his friends left that bar for a third. She and her friends followed. At this third bar, he approached her. The pair went home together. Happily ever after.
–
The woman from Mexico City likes very green bananas. Her husband, also 5’3”, also in his mid 60s, likes talking to strangers. She takes the stairs; he takes the elevator. They live in 5C. They’re moving tomorrow. Back to Mexico City, for retirement.
“5C?” I ask him. “Did you guys do renovations?”
“How’d you know?”
“I’m also on the 5 line. 5F. I heard about yours.” (In my building, 5 refers to the vertical line while F refers to the floor. All the 5s have the same basic floor structure.)
“You wanna see?”
Raúl walks me around his apartment. The place smells faintly of cat urine. I don’t notice. I grew up with cat urine. Raúl’s two cats skitter. Raúl says they are confused and afraid, considering the move. I think they can’t get purchase on the hardwood floor.
Raúl’s ceilings are high. Very high. Like 12 feet. Mine could be high too, Raúl says. I could expose the oak beams, only because I’m on the top floor. Otherwise the exposure breaks fire code.
I text my partner, “Come to 5C immediately”. She doesn’t answer. I call. She’s in the shower. Four minutes later, she joins the tour.
Raúl renovated the apartment around 20 years ago. The pair sold their apartment in Brooklyn 5 days before the housing bubble popped. They moved into this place a day later. Renovations were cheap since all the construction workers were out of work.
Raúl likes his windows and AC unit. He spent $35,000 on new windows 8 years ago. He hates his floor-to-ceiling doors. $2,700 per door. He likes the bold colors and exposed brick. He hates the darkness. He says I’ll have much better light since I’m on the top floor. He says that the co-op board is easy: they’ll approve anything that’s up to code. “The guy on 5D put a bathroom above our kitchen! Can you imagine that?”
They expect to visit New York; they have family here. They’ll let me know, stop by for dinner.
“Take your time on the renovations,” Raúl advises. “Be sure you eat well.” “Julian doesn’t eat enough vegetables,” Partner tells him. “During this next year, you should.”
—
Ten minutes later, I open my door to head to a show to find Raúl in front of it with another man. “This is my guy Jaime. He does floors, he does windows; anything you need”. I shake Jaime’s hand. Raúl texts me Jaime’s number.
—
Three hours later, Partner and I leave a very green banana outside 5C door with a note: “Thank you for the tour. Have an excellent retirement!”
–
Shortly before we part ways, Raúl tells me his wife spotted me back in the lobby due to the bunch of very green bananas I was carrying. That’s the way she likes to eat them. Very green bananas can be hard to find. He jokes that she wants to buy one off of me. I offer one but she declines.
In retrospect, I wonder who befriended whom.
—
Three hours later, Partner and I leave a very green banana outside 5C door with a note: “Thank you for the tour. Have an excellent retirement!”
Pity they’re leaving. But if they weren’t, would we even have met? Tomorrow, I will knock on 5D. I want to learn more about this bathroom.
No, I did not leave the house today. No, I did not leave the living room today. Yes, I had a good day.
Ah, yes, I correct myself: I went from the bedroom into the living room into the exercise room into the bathroom and into the kitchen, in a series of loops co-overlapping and co-insiding.
How did I have a good day like this, you may ask?
Well.
Everything I need is here.
I’m a bit of a homebody. That’s why I chose to live in one of the highest rent areas of the world.
(That’s a joke.)
I’m not a homebody. I like warm weather, however. And outside is particularly cold.
I don’t like warm weather just for its warmth. I like it for its sociality. Warm weather → people outside. Bopping around, conversing this and that.
I had a good day because I got some stuff done and I had tasty food and I got exercise and my apartment gets good sun and I socialized with friends (through a screen) and I went outside and did sufficient in-person socializing yesterday and have plenty of plans for tomorrow and the weekend.
I’ve set up my life to enable having lots of good things that I like.
So what if some days I am a hermit.
(Two days out of the last week? Yeah. Two days out of the last week.)
Julian Wise 