Silence
For a number of reasons—which I originally meant to enumerate, but it was too bloated an explanation—I won't be posting here for a while. For over six months, there has been something served up every Sunday. I'm proud of that, and I hate to
Josiah Duran
My Identity is Maybe a Little Tied Up In a Stupendous Overcoat
And I Feel Fine!
How to Make Egg Noodles
First, you’re going to need two cups of flour and three eggs. Semolina flour is better; if the flour you use is too coarse, your pasta dough will be noticeably textured, and not a in a good way; there will be shame in every bite. So use a fine-ground
Bittersweet
Someone once told me that the opposite of heartbreak is gratitude. I think they meant that you can lessen a burden of sadness by remembering the good things in your life, which is true. The thing they actually said isn’t.
In my post for last Thanksgiving, I attacked a
Hi There
Hello everyone. I'm typing directly into the Ghost draft editor today, which means we don't get curly quotes or apostrophes. I'm sorry about that, but not sorry enough to copy-paste my way out of the situation.
One of my favorite elements shared among the
Even a Crush is Something
There is something noble in the most pathetic forms of love.
For it’s very pathetic to love someone you don’t know—to really love them, hook, line and sinker—to be ready to throw up everything, for someone whose middle name you don’t even know. We’ll
Simmering Anxieties
Being able to cook—wow—that caries high social status.
So my thoughts must have been whispering to me all throughout childhood, because that’s the idea I grew up with, although no adult ever tried to drill it into me. My mom watched cooking shows sometimes. Perhaps it came
Cold
When I was young, it was warmer. One-hundred and six, one-hundred and five, one-hundred and nine—the whole twelve-day forecast went on like that in the summers. They said you could cook an egg on a car dash. My parents never let me try that. Still, they did stretch and
Dressing Well
And How to Define It
Plomp, Plomp, Plomp
There's a cricket on the sidewalk. And there's a toad. Plomp—the weigh of the toad slaps the sidewalk; a dreadful boggy sound that must rattle the exoskeleton of the cricket. It twitches an antenna. Plomp, goes the toad, and the bug is in real danger.