Rogues and riddles
Somewhere in between analyzing every villain’s batshit plots to kill Batman and concluding that The Penguin sucked, we became best friends.
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Better apocalypses
Kind of chaos
I have been considering the microphysics of apocalypses. Not blazing lights and the pale horse of Judgement Day, but smaller devastations.
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Tornado season in California
Kind of chaos
When I visited UC Berkeley for the first time as an admitted student, it did feel a bit like I had been dropped from a tornado.
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My mother as a Salvador Dalí
Kind of chaos
My mother taught me how to love art. She taught me to look for detail, to hold space for emotional impact, to decide for myself what feels beautiful.
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This year’s Emmy nominations are everything
I find that I deeply resonate with a thought from “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” lead Rachel Brosnahan: She is tired of hearing the word “strong” as an adjective to describe female characters.
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The existential horror of buying ‘Pulp Fiction’ posters in college
My personality cannot be reduced to the cliched pretension that compels me to choose between “Pulp Fiction” and “Fight Club” for the honor of watching me sleep at night.
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Funerary impulses
Kind of chaos
It’s been years, but I still have the black dress and I still think of the W.H. Auden poem at certain times of day when the hills cast long shadows and airplanes fly out of San Francisco.
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‘Performance art in airport,’ 2019. Mixed (social) media.
I figured if my trip was performative, it wouldn’t be the first time that my feed has been filled to the brim with projections of a better, happier me.
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Cellar doors and pretty wars
The words we collect expose parts of us — parts of us we want to share, but can’t in such specific terms.
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Great power, great responsibility
Doors of Perception
This is why I’m risking a stable career, and probably a solid 401(k), to go into the entertainment industry and hopefully write for television.
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