Essays and half-built ideas, worked out in public. Newest first — the older grad-school pieces are slowly being folded in.
Edison and Dalí built traps to catch themselves at the edge of sleep. Mine is going to look like a calendar block and a voice memo.
I don't take a lot of pictures. People find that strange. But a photo doesn't preserve a memory — it replaces it.
There's a kind of love that doesn't ask anything of you. Not your explanation, not your best self, not your guard.
Song after song about women competing for men — and the sense that something is being installed, not reflected. Where it comes from goes back a lot further than the recording studio.
Two ways a song carries the old grammar: aimed down at women, or aimed sideways between them. Plus the careers that show what building outward — or collapsing inward — looks like.
Two Beatles songs, and the sharpest diagnostic in the whole argument: why the culture rejected one and celebrated the other — even though the celebrated one described real abuse.
The misogyny is louder now, not quieter — and that might be the signal. Plus what a different way of listening actually sounds like.
