Harris Sockel
I like running in circles inside my apartment.
All The Metaphors You’ll Ever Need For The Summer
Summer is when we realize all of a sudden that we have always had too much skin.
Dear Mother, Please Accept These Flowers
I’m an adult now, alone in New York City, and flowers are what adults do.
What Twitter Looks Like In A Tragedy
Twitter manifests that, makes it feel real, like a cross-section of all the wild blood flows that happen in our brains when bad things go down.
Here’s Why Writers Are Ugly
Yes, writers’ headshots are beautiful and carefully curated, but when you see these people called Writers in person, they’re not the most attractive. I know I’m not. My pores = face constellations.
How You Know Your Life Is About To Change
When everything becomes a metaphor. Walking down a long sidewalk becomes a big juicy Choice that makes you stand there in the middle of the sidewalk with your eyes watering.
The Different Kinds Of NYC Apartments You Can Live In
There’s the I’ll-Live-Here-Forever apartment, filled with the same faces and pierced bellies you kissed in college.
6 Personal Mantras I’ve Tried And How They’ve Failed Me
I’d imagine myself a mogul, walking down a grand staircase toward big vats of money while oompa loompas grin like presenters and do those Fosse hand movements from Pippin on either side.
Leaving Your Office Job Will Be Harder Than You Thought
You never find out how large of a hole you’re going to leave until you keep hearing the word “transition” as a verb and the subject is you, and someone asks you to give them all your knowledge and you do it through a series of e-mails forwarded with the subject “FYI” or “thx.”
I’m A Jew, Goddammit
In 2013, I shouldn’t feel ashamed to be Jewish, but I do, especially when that part of me announces itself in a thick Yiddish accent on my Mac.
This Is What It Feels Like To Be Adopted
Who would I have been if it weren’t for that house of paperwork? Would I pray to Jesus everyday? Would I be a famous entrepreneur-singer-writer-everything I want? Or that white kid with brown teeth you see on your way to work, holding his dog and the cardboard sign and the can?
Should You Always Say ‘Yes’ In Your 20s?
I don’t want to “like” everything, don’t want to go to business school, don’t want to go to the new restaurant in Williamsburg where they bake olive oil shortbread daily, on the premises.
When I Was Eight I Sang Alone In Restaurants
Song is lazy. Instinctive and cerebellar rather than cerebral. It’s in your larynx, a kind of no man’s land between your heart and head, and it’s basically unalterable. Singers are born with a singing-shaped larynx just like you and I are born with a head and a brain.