clogged in my sleep-deprived brain are crumpled scraps of paper i’ve been meaning to unscramble.   scrap one. “let’s go outside.” something-something about blackened grid-like sidewalks and noiseless streets roaming freely out of sheer post-midnight curiosity then melting into firm grounded steps steered by puddles and mushy dewy grass. scrap two. “talk to me.” something-something…


cyborgs, not goddesses

illusions, erasure, and arja renell

On a chilly fall morning on the Schillerpromenade, a few performers clad in colorful, opaque hula skirts added some flavor to an otherwise gray day. While a purple creature played tag with neighborhood children and its green friend hugged passersby, patrons of Berlin Art Week gathered around Top Schillerpalais for “Protest Song Competition,” a featured…

summertime eating

“shimmers of time”

Of all my many food memories, I most vividly remember convening on the wrap-around front porch of the Vassilaros’ summer home. The house, a converted chicken farm and one of the few vestiges of a time before Bridgehampton was synonymous with excess, was built on coffee. The people behind the coffee are tall, tan, and…


to be in the kitchen

what happens to make a meal

The time between Christmas Eve morning and Christmas Eve night used to feel weeks long. This year was the first year I realized it was only ever a few hours. Of course there were also the days leading up to the party—the 22nd and the 23rd, and those, too, were small infinities—but it was only…

Narrative Article

narrativizing the self

merits, pitfalls, and non-conclusions

Just over a year ago, my friend S was diagnosed with: bipolar mood disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, bulimia nervosa, and anorexia nervosa.         S’s eyes glossed over the list once, twice, thrice. She held the letters in her palm, pressed them into her skin to see what would happen. She watched as they sunk into…