a list of lists
a constantly-updating collection of poems from here and there
possible jobs after this
February 2023 -- August 2025
custom book binder
neighborhood toy designer
cow stripes painter (bugs bite cows less if they have stripes)
vintage glassware sourcer for an extremely slow breakfast cafe
silk spinner(?)/maker(?)/silkworm tender(?)/(?)
beginner-friendly tea house manager
piano teacher (but i only teach adults/the elderly and i also am their friend)
piano tuner (but i only take clients who don’t live in a gated community)
children’s book illustrator for children who came up with only the words for their book
children’s book writer (but my editors are grandparents)
diptych curator*
fortune cookie messages writer
bamboo shoots harvester
illustrator of salvaged doors labels
something to do with a planetarium or a science museum. narrate the displays, or make miniature models, or explain things to schoolchildren, or something small like that
[list last updated 08/2025]
*an extensive operation: a foundation of sorts would distribute point-and-shoot cameras to children and the elderly; i receive the photo scans and make diptychs from them. i do keep in mind notes from the photographers.
A List of People From Whom I Learnt How To Cook
February 2025
my mother. my friend, roasting vegetables in an upstate cabin. algorithmically divined recipe bloggers. the memory of an estranged roommate spooning mushroom soup into our matching cocottes.
the family who sells skewers from their foyer across the street, terracotta coal crumbling into black dirt, into the asphalt outside; i take deep breaths. my father, resurrecting my wintermelon soup after i mistook a tablespoon for a ladle of fish sauce. my grandma, identifying for me the ingredients to bún thang in a bowl, assembled, before silky broth submerge them all.
the brochures that come with airfryers.
and remy from ratatouille – mostly his resilience.