We need help. — I don’t think it’s up for debate that we are in the midst of a collective mental breakdown. If there were any lingering doubt, the photos of Will Smith dancing at Oscar parties after he assaulted Chris Rock has removed it. Did Will’s publicist just walk off the job? Probably…

There are a lot — It was a mistake to sell my apartment in Brooklyn. It was a mistake to come back to Los Angeles for a boy. It was a mistake not to swim through a magical underwater tunnel in Kauai, that led to a cylinder-like rock formation with a ceiling to the sky…

This is the life hacks of all life hacks — I hate it when people give unsolicited advice. For instance, yesterday an old friend walked into my house for the first time, and told me to get rid of all my books because they made the place looked cluttered. “You really like books, huh?” she said, staring at a small…

I’m lonely but I’m also not — Wikipedia explains that Schrödinger’s Cat “is a thought experiment that illustrates a paradox of quantum superposition. In the thought experiment, a hypothetical cat may be considered simultaneously both alive and dead as a result of its fate being linked to a random subatomic event that may or may not occur.”…

On being over it and the heady power of being a “nominator” — Greetings from Sybarite HQ. Yet again, it’s been more than two weeks since I’ve written a newsletter. I’d explain why and apologize, but the last time I did that I got some critical emails saying that I was talking about myself too much. Fair enough, although I tried to explain…

I’ve eaten everything; there is nothing left to eat. — Food and I have broken up. Lose my number, food. Last Friday an old friend, a new friend and I tried out a new restaurant in Los Angeles, steps away from the LA River. …

It’s been more than two weeks since I wrote one of these, and I have no excuse — Hi, sorry. It’s been two weeks since I’ve written a newsletter, which kinda sucks for the people who publish in Sybarite. Maybe the algorithm will show you their stories without a newsletter, maybe not. …

On all the places we are afraid to leave. — I am afraid to move. If I sold my house and moved into my parents’ old house, all my problems (like this one and this one) would be solved. But I can’t do it. I’m too scared. The Internet tells me there is a name for this: topophobia, which sounds…

Nothing says spring like woodworking, lilac syrup, ghosts and people off their rocker. — Greetings! Things are so much better this week than they were last week, and I didn’t even do anything different. I don’t know how that adds up or makes sense, but things are so good that now I’m suffering from a bout of writer's’ block, lending credence to the idea…