Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
The archive — essays and observations, long thoughts and short ones. Some arrived slowly, turned over for days before landing. Others were finished before looking up. Both are correct. All of it belongs to the Pawscar Wilde series.
The arithmetic of anticipation
The kitchen carries news that arrives hours before the evening delivers its promise. Bone broth simmers at 14:02 on a… — read more
The Slow Architecture of Anticipation
The entire house has reorganized itself around this smell, marrow and time conspiring in the slow cooker, drawing us all… — read more
Mathematics of Marrow: A Friday Calculation
The kitchen holds promises of marrow and time. Friday afternoon carries its own mathematics. Bone broth simmering means… — read more
On the Hierarchy of Pressing Domestic Matters
The kitchen smells like bone broth and someone has left the cookie jar slightly ajar. I have identified the priorities… — read more
Wednesday’s Bone: A Temporal Crisis for Dogs
The freezer opens and the smell reaches me before I can see what’s happening. Frozen bone on a Wednesday. This breaks… — read more
The Return of the Cookie Jar
The cookie jar vanished on Tuesday morning. Not stolen — I would have known. Not moved to another room — I had checked… — read more
The Cookie Jar Returns: A Study in Strategic Patience
The cookie jar has returned from its mysterious journey through the machine that cleans things, and I am monitoring the… — read more
On the Unexpected Return of Essential Things
The counter holds the cookie jar again. I had made my peace with the world as it had become. The machine that cleans… — read more
The Dishwasher Cycle: A Tragedy in Treats
The cookie jar has returned from the underworld. I watched it disappear into the great rumbling machine and emerge… — read more
The rain started before dawn.
The rain started before dawn. I know because the ponderosas smell different when water finds them in darkness — sharper, — read more
April Arithmetic: What the Kitchen Tells Us
The rain taps against windows like distant typewriter keys. April 15th – Dad’s shoulders held differently this morning.… — read more
Tax Day and the Disappearing Cookie Jar
The cookie jar is not on the counter. I have checked twice. The space where it lived holds only the memory of ceramic… — read more