HeyJaredThe Body Electric
Between these phantom book covers - Bits of fashion, food, music, art, literature, health & travel.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Aug 26, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Aug 20, 2026
Latest issues
“What counts as doing?” (opens the original)
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Sven Birkerts wrote an August 24h Substack entry beginning with the words, “Do nothing… and the guilt that goes along with that.” He asks, “What counts as doing?” For several days this question has pierced my consciousness taking the tone of “Why must I justify a day of nothing?” By nothing I mean siting for two or three hours in the patisserie or tea house vacillating between staring out the window, eating something delicious and impossible to prepare myself, listening to jazz, classical, or fo
“No more taking pictures of strangers...” (opens the original)
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Yesterday my godson Joshua said, “No more taking pictures of strangers, especially in DC. I don’t want anything happening to you.” I’m not a street photographer. I do, however, enjoy capturing the lone black-eyed Susan crispy brown from the summer’s heat or my neighbor’s young crepe myrtle trunk, a tall, graceful, smooth latte color. In yesterday’s case on the subway, I snapped a photo of a fashionable young black man wearing a giant, expertly rolled joint tucked behind his right ear. He sat in
Therapy today.. (opens the original)
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From the tea house window I saw a man walk slowly. A black man. There was something about him, laden with two overstuffed, torn, backpacks, clothes more than slightly worn. Tired. Pensive. I watched him open the door, enter. In fact I stared at him. He waved at me. I waved in return. I then turned away, back to my journal and pencil, the page blank. I’d just finished my meal. I sat.He sat next to me, his back to the window, his left shoulder to my left. I wondered if we’d already met, if I shoul
Sliding Scale (opens the original)
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Doctor Bennet said, “Not today.” I left her office, mind blank, walked the sterile white hall with the industrial grey carpet to the elevator, pressed the button to lobby, sat on the generic grey chair next to the minimalist grey side table with the plastic floral arrangement, and ordered Uber car service to take me home, unaware of any thought rummaging through my brain, unaware of any feelings in my stomach. My mind and body were barren. The Uber driver arrived. I crawled into the back seat of
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