Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Category ✦
🖋️ The Inner Life
What happens when there is nothing to do but think.
The Bed, Unstacked
There were two donut beds, and then there were two donut beds stacked, and that is a different thing entirely. — read more
On the Question of Who Owes Whom
Tomorrow is Father’s Day, and I have been sitting with a procedural question that no one in this house seems qualified… — read more
Something in the House Is Pointed Elsewhere
There is a particular quality to a morning when the house is present but its attention is not. Mom left on schedule. I… — read more
On the Occasion of a Strange Voice in the Room
There is a voice coming from the television that Mom seems to find significant. I don’t know his name. I don’t need to.… — read more
The Architecture of Monday Afternoons
There is a particular quality to Monday air — not quite weekend, not yet fully week. It carries a different weight… — read more
The Morning After
The house carries last night in its floorboards — the ghost of music, laughter that settled into the walls around one… — read more
The Pint and the Pure Thing
The patio. The sun. The beer in Dad’s hand catching light like amber glass and me beside his chair not moving not… — read more
The Sound of Tuesday
The radio in the studio carries news of humans circling the moon again, or planning to, the details blur into the… — read more
The Weight of White
Snow changes the light through glass, turns familiar rooms into something almost foreign, almost remembered. — read more
The Sister Frequency
Sister is in New York City measuring noise. This morning I knew it. I was in the sun patch minding my own business and — read more
Sunday at Eight
There is a particular quality to Sunday morning light that makes ordinary rooms feel like they are holding their breath. — read more
Saturday Afternoon Confessions
The light falls differently on Saturdays. Not technically—the physics remain unchanged — read more