Between leaving Austin and moving to New York last year, I moved back in with my parents for the summer. I began to plan the move to NYC. Then I began to plan just in case I needed to move back to Austin or stay in Corpus Christi. In the end, I took a job in New York, rented a horrible apartment that I lived in for one night, found an apartment share on the Upper West Side, and officially relocated. It might sound easy, but this happened after an entire summer of flying back and forth between Texas and New York.
Posts under ‘Ties that bind...and gag’
The missing pot
Terminally healthy
When I was a kid, I used to stand up too quickly and be overcome by a vertiginous lurch that my mom insisted meant “you sit on your butt too much - go take out the trash.” I had not-so-secretly hoped it meant I had some kind of disease characterized by auras and a tendency to sprawl for hours and read. I also used to go outside on sunny days, squint, and watch all these molecules of matter present themselves. I though it might mean I was a prodigy, because I had seen it done by the kid genius in Little Man Tate or rather, the video editors of Little Man Tate. If I wasn’t a prodigy, I’d settle for having special mutations. I later learned of corneal scratches. How disappointing.
The self-taught plumber in the toilet that doesn’t flush
The alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. today. By 4 a.m., my dad was on his way back to Texas. He’d been visiting since Tuesday and the door of his tolerance was beginning to jam. He says New York City is a toilet that won’t flush. That’s an opinion, of course, but no one can argue that it’s a sidewalk constantly crowded and a doorknob always smudged and sticky with a million fingerprints.









