Starr's Log

One of my all-time favorite video games is Opus Magnum.

I was going to call this "inside you there are two middle aged detectives" but, critically, one of these men is John Banville's Quirke.

I started this draft in December as an "end of the year perfume diary" but alas, it is now the beginning of a different year!

One of my least clearly articulated but nonetheless household-shorthand level concepts is "Ghibli gender."

The other day I posted a Substack note about The Nutcracker: So you know how a lot of girls will cite Labyrinth as an early sexual awakening moment?

The household has been miserable with illness this past week—some kind of vile mashup of cold and norovirus symptoms has felled all three of us and left our daily routine in shambles.

The popular writer I am tired of is talking about the disappointing void of meaning in marriage without religion today.

I've decided that I'm too lazy to properly do accent marks on this little blog so you'll have to imagine them.

"I can't believe these seasons finished the same way," I half-joked to my husband as the credits rolled on season 3 of The Diplomat, an extremely stupid show.

Package I thought was lost but showed up weeks later This little box from the delightfully old-school website The Perfumed Court contained some real heavyweights (and a coffee caramel candy), and I also think I got one of the last portions of the old Apres