Tag: Writing

An Art (Apr 4 2026) 

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An off-off-off-off Broadway day. 

I attended an art today. A very Burning Man-ish art. Listen: 

You knock on a door in Brooklyn. A clown-not-yet-in-costume opens the door. She tells you the show starts when she dons her hat. But now, she is hatless, so the show must not have started. 

You introduce yourself to the other attendees. There are five of you: you, your partner, a couple (she’s from Bulgaria; he’s a stand up comedian), and a woman of about 80 who formerly performed voiceover work for the Muppets. 

The host dons her hat. She provides you a passport and divides you into groups: you’re with the Bulgarian and Muppet; your partner is with the Standup. The host introduces you to the town: five stations, each themed around a custom topic for you. (Mine was Consistency & Stability.) 

You visit the five stations in sequence. At one, you marry your theme. At another, your theme writes you a letter.
At the beginning of the experience, you ask yourself, “Why am I here?” You imagine yourself leaving to go to a park. Getting some much-needed rest away from the world. 

At one station, the Muppet tells you of how she was engaged to a man in L.A. A beautiful man, an incredible musician. But he had a nervous breakdown and moved back to Las Vegas. And she moved back home to New York City. And had she not done that, she would never have been the in-demand voice over artist she ended up being. 

By the end, you have found in this activity a bit of solace, peace, and comfort.
You met some people who enjoyed the time they passed with you.
You learned a small bit experientially.
If you generally had positive memories, you would have positive ones here too.

After the experience, the clown host mentions she previously studied in France, under the same teacher who founded the clown school you attended.
She says she left his instruction back in the early 2000s, thinking he had failed her. Only after he died did she recognize he had been right all along.
You wonder how much that’s true for you too.
You wonder where you have to go. 

An hour later, you see a dear friend for a bite of dim sum.
It’s his birthday. It’s nice to laugh.
You wander toward home, a bit colder than expected.
You check your texts, and find a thank you from the clown host. She says that your conversation helped her. She may return to that school. 

You arrive home. 

And all this time,
still,
throughout the entire day,
you wonder
why you feel
so utterly
alone. 

Costs & Choices (Apr 3 2026)

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My contractor asked if we wanted nice lighting.
“Depends the alternative and the cost”. 

I’m somewhat surprised by his surprise at my answer.
Like.
Sure: of course I want nice lighting. If you ask me that question in a vacuum, the answer is definitely yes.
But that question is only meaningful if it has a comparison.
What is the other option for lighting?
What are the actual trade-offs?
Is “nice” lighting one million dollars, while “normal” lighting is a buck fifty seven? 

I keep running into this situation with contractors.
I hired this contractor due to their line items.
I decided not to get a recessed niche in my shower… 
due to that shower niche being ~$2k.
At $2k, we’ll put our shampoo on the windowsill. 

My contractor – and his designer – often find this approach confusing.
It’s not that I’m unwilling to spend money.
It’s that I can’t say “yes” to a thing without even a ballpark.
And that ballpark should come with a basic comparison.
Do people not do simple economic analyses when renovating a home?
Not even a super-deep preference list, but just a simple “This light costs $100. That light costs $200. Would I pay an additional $100 for that light?”
On plenty of parts, my preference ended up being cheaper. 

In working with my designer, we must train each other to work well together.
One part of that is the way he proposes options. 

I hired him for his opinion and skill.
I want his recommendation – not merely to view all the options and choose myself.
And I also want his tradeoffs: what are the traits that would lean you toward this over that, and what are the summaries of other reasonable options? 

I don’t know how other people choose their elements
but I can do the simple gut check of “Would I pay $375 for an additional power outlet there?” 
That’s the beauty of money: it’s a universal comparison.
The best things in life are priceless.
For everything else, it’s a clear unit.

Charades with Cards (Mar 29 2026)

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In which Our Hero reflects on reflecting. 

My family has been playing a card game for the last week.
Every day up til midnight or 1 or 2am.

One element I like: Mainly playing the game; not too much discussion/reflection about the game.
It’s a game where the point is to learn how to communicate intricate information without language.
Language & clear behavioral conventions therefore ruin it.

The topic has come up: what analysis/discussion is desirable, and what is not? 

Here’s my opinion and reasoning: 

The key is the novelty of information: 

  • If someone does not know what a communication means, sharing its meaning is bad.
    • (The game is learning what communication means. Resolving that tension through clear information removes that learning.) 
  • If someone does know what a communication means but made a logical mistake, pointing out this mental flaw is acceptable, but not necessary.
    • (If they know that 3 minus 2 is 1 and 4 minus 3 is 1, but they accidentally make a move that implies 3 minus 2 is 0 while 4 minus 3 is 2, pointing that out after the game doesn’t chip away at the value of the game while it does improve their mechanics.) 

In short, if a statement would be new information to someone, don’t tell them. If it would be old news but they made a mistake, tell them. 

Assumptions: 

  • The game is about what I think the game is about. 
  • One can accurately determine with a high degree of accuracy what others know.
  • Even without others’ advice, each person can improve individually to a degree / with a speed that is satisfying for them 

And a final follow-up: 

  • The game might be even better with no reflecting afterwards.
    • Maybe even the “this person already knows this but just made a mistake” is just too difficult to separate from “this person actually doesn’t know this thing”.
      • (Theory of mind is hard! Something I think that you know may be completely unknown to you… or the way I communicate something to you might change your entire psychological paradigm about the game. If the whole point is the communicative tension, keeping tension might be… …. … good!) 
    • Maybe the game itself being slow to improve is part of what will make it interesting for my family for time to come. (Often we will run into walls where we play a game for a while as a family, then lose interest and move onto another game. If we keep this game minimally-discussed, does that elongate the duration we enjoy it?) 
    • Perhaps the only time to reflect and dissect is therefore when NOT reflecting/dissecting would be intolerable. Like if someone says “I’m not having fun any more because I’m no longer growing. Can you do something to kick me off of my local maximum?” 

This ends JuJu’s analysis of a silly, fun activity. 

The Maginot Line (Mar 26 2026)

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Crossing lines and having great times 

After World War I, having been invaded by the Germans five times in under 200 years, the French devised a novel strategy: build an impenetrable line of defenses along the French-German border. The Germans could not defeat this line. The forts and artillery were too strong. The Maginot Line held. I see this same concept all over French culture. 

The Germans went around The Line. Through Belgium. And invaded France yet again.
Oops. 

In the 2010s, France experienced a rash of bombings. In response, there now exist security officers at every sporting event and even many grocery stores. These security officers check bags for weaponry. But if you simply don’t stop? What if you walk through, refusing their patdown? Do they tackle you like the potential terrorist you are? No, they shrug uncomfortably and continue about their business. How do I know? I’ve done this many times. 

When the park closes at 6pm and it’s 5:45, the French gendarmes stand at the entry to prevent your entry. They do this because the park closing at 6pm means everyone must be out by then, not merely in the process of leaving. I accept this difference as a cultural choice and have no qualms with it. But when an American in a silly teal dinosaur hat argues with the gendarme for forty five seconds and then simply plows ahead, they do not apprehend him. They do nothing more than shout “Monsieur! Monsieur” a few times before returning to their croissant. 

Some local frogs (that’s the PC term for French people) taught me a silly game of throwing sticks. I happened upon these frogs thanks to one time I was out for a stroll in the darkness and saw lights and heard laughter. I approached to watch. They said (in French) “this is a private club”. I replied (in French) “we were out for a stroll and saw the lights”. They invited me and Partner to play. 

That experience isn’t the Maginot Line connection. (Even though a boundary did go un-enforced, ahem.)

The Maginot Line connection is that I taught a frog classmate how to play the game and she kept stepping over the line. When I called her out on it (it’s like bocci or bowling: a restriction on one’s distance is literally what makes it a game), she didn’t stop. She continued stepping over the line, stepping on it, using her foot to move the line, etc. It’s like she needed Germanic-level rule enforcement to keep her in line. 

The public parks in France close at sunset. That closure is my least favorite part of French culture. My research suggests this trait is due to the French desire to prevent people from doing bad things. In American legal culture, we’re deeply skeptical of preventive restrictions. Our permissiveness is part of what makes us innovative: you’re allowed to break the law; it just leads to punishment. 

And the fact that we Americans are a violent bunch means people have the honor not to step over lines. Viewing a nude performance art piece in Texas, I asked a fellow audience member what would happen if someone started recording. The local longhorn (that’s PC term for Texan) said that at least a dozen people would beat you up and take your phone. 

During the French Olympics, the U.S. State Department warned Americans about Parisian pickpockets. The Americans responded by beating them up so frequently it became an international meme.
Presumably when a native frog catches a pickpocketed in France, the appropriate response is to shout “Monsieur! Monsieur!” as they run away.

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! 😀

The Sunshine of My Life (Mar 21 2026)

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A reflection on partner’s reflection 

Partner seems much happier today. Less pressured. Less stressed. Less worried. More reflective.
I’d think she’s high, but I know she’s not.
Is it the weekend? The days of space while I’m miles away? The joy that comes from wanting to be with someone, when not stifled by actually being with them?
Or am I changed? Different? more open and relaxed.
I really, really think its her.

I’m glad she has time to herself. To work and gym and walk. The same things we do when we’re together. But recently, it’s been all business. The apartment floorplan; her work; my work. Heads-down in a hyper-focused sort of way.
The time we’re free, we spend playing cards with friends.
We plan or we execute. We execute or we plan.
We don’t get to have space. 

Is there a value to space.
To the separation you get from separating.
To the open, empty curiosity.
To the necessary reflection. The seeing. The reckoning.
Is that what I’m seeing? This open, energized, asking-for-what-she-wants version of a woman I love?
Is that the beauty that space creates?

Do we have too little of that in our days together?
Should I take some action to create more… 

I enjoyed writing that.
To explore its ideas.
To mull its philosophy and systems-level approach. 

But also, 

I think not.
I think it more likely
today was just,
finally, 

a warm, 

sunny

day. 

Talking to Strangers (Mar 18 2026) 

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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.

Sneaky Share Cake (Mar 15 2026)

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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: 

  1. 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. 
  2. 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.
  3. 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). 
  4. A European man who rejects it by saying, “A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” 
  5. 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.”. 
  6. 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.
  7. 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! 

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.