A dispatch from the British Airways lounge at JFK, Terminal 7. I’m drinking miso soup and removing my work email from all my devices. I’ve parked my things on the table-top closest to all the self-serve free food. I deserve this, I whisper to my soul. I’ve been working nearly seven days a week for […]
If 2017 taught us anything, it’s that everything you love will die. This isn’t about the horrifying state of emergency in which we find our entire planet (see: U.S. national parks, Paris Climate accord, our oceans, sea turtles, polar bears, rainforests, climate refugees) — though, make no mistake, we are all royally fucked. Those are just […]
I’ve been meaning to write this post for over a month now, but it’s hard to get off the hamster wheel these days by ways other than an emotional meltdown or getting fired. Yes, the job is just as demanding as my first in New York City, but this time, there’s a quiet room if […]
This blog—my labor of shameless love and excessive misery—is now four years old. Truly, the miracle to be celebrated here is that I am neither dead nor imprisoned, impoverished, or running an underground Bejeweled gambling ring. I’m sure the burning question, then, is what I have to show for it.
Surely, the best time for a parent to just give up and kill themselves is the moment when they realize that they raised an asshole. And once you’ve realized the steps you actively took that inadvertently made him that way, you might as well just open the window and somersault out…
Somewhere halfway through my customary sad-salad lunch (not even that bad: spinach, boiled eggs, avocado, and chicken if I’m feeling luxurious), I decided enough is enough.
I do this to myself, I know.
Admittedly, Colin Nissan’s I Work From Home piece for The New Yorker is genius, but I’m going to go one deeper, into the dark depravity that is working from your pajamas. Because I ruin everything. I honestly don’t know how I’ve managed to keep myself alive since I left my office job last September. Enabler […]
Me: “Am I disgusting?” Conscience: “Who cares?” Me: “OK!” I was walking through Park Slope with my dear friend Enabler Dan when we came across a cardboard box full of crap on the sidewalk. Among that crap was a massive wine glass with measurements along the bowl and its boot (that’s educated wine-speak for the […]
I am tired. I’m tired of resolutions, and celebrating, and empty sentiments, and I am 1000 DONE with good intentions that fart their way out of existence because of lack of hustle from broke-ass scrubs (who definitely are not me).