Wet Cold American Fall

An Adult Contemporary Medley: Floods, TikToks, and No TV

I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to write this Substack until the night before it’s due. Life always finds a way to get in the way of my self-imposed deadline. So today, I’m trying something different: instead of diving deep into one topic, let’s go for a more relaxed, adult-contemporary medley of updates, tips, and lessons I’ve picked up over the past few months.

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Parents in the House

If you follow me on Substack Notes, you might’ve seen my update: my parents are moving in after their house was flooded by Hurricane Helene, and then Hurricane Milton came through, crushing any chance of going back. They live in Zone A, the most vulnerable zone for storm surge and flooding. I happened to be visiting when Helene hit. My parents were in bed—it was dark, and I was in the living room on my phone, monitoring the rising water. When it reached halfway up the yard and touched the mango tree, I FaceTimed my brother. His advice: “You need to get out, now!”

He called a friend, George, who showed up in his truck within 15 minutes. We grabbed the essentials and left. My dad is disabled, which made things more urgent and, of course, more complicated. They’re both in their 70s, so it’s a lot. I hadn’t been paying attention to the front of the house, and by the time we pulled out of the driveway, the street had already taken on two feet of water. If we’d waited any longer, we’d have been trapped.

George took us to his mom’s house, where we stayed the night. The next morning, George and I went back to check on my parents’ house. It was soaked—every inch of it.

Luckily, a friend had a vacant mobile home, so we relocated to a trailer park next to a Hooters. A couple of days later, I flew back to Brooklyn with their dog, Cody, while my brother stayed in Florida, organizing the demolition and trashing what was left of their belongings, including the appliances. By the time he left, Milton was on the way, so he shipped my parents off to a hotel in Savannah and found some old high school friends to look after them.

It was clear they couldn’t go back. My brother and I live an hour apart in upstate New York, so they headed north. My partner, Marina, offered to have them stay with us. A few days later, we set up the downstairs room with a king-size bed and a big-screen TV. The dogs—Cody and Mishka—are reunited, we’ve got a ramp, and today I’m building a new wheelchair. I’ve also gathered up every wool blanket I can find to keep them warm.

My room flooded thx to Helene.

We’re all originally from New York, having grown up in a pretty bleak area, weather-wise and culturally. My brother and I keep reminding my parents, “This isn’t Rome!” It’s chic, cute, and there’s a sculpture park five minutes from my house.

By the way, this is why you’re getting a medley newsletter—my parents arrived yesterday!

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Lessons from 62 TikToks

This summer, I took a TikTok class. Yes, I know—it’s a little embarrassing. I committed to making 100 videos this year, and I’m about 60 in.

Most of my videos are stuck in “200-view jail,” as I like to call it.

But then Seth Werkheiser gave me some advice that’s been keeping me sane: reuse your discarded content. Just because something flops on TikTok doesn’t mean it’s a failure. Dust it off and repurpose it for Instagram Reels, LinkedIn, or even your Substack. It’s the Reduce, Reuse, Recycle method of content creation. Not every post has to go viral the first time; sometimes, it just needs a new platform.

This has been my lifeline in my one-woman fight against the TikTok algorithm.

I don’t know why I can’t just talk to the camera like a normal person. I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to connect with people on TikTok when they clearly don’t want to see me. I’m not an “on-command performer.” I have charm and charisma, but TikTok doesn’t seem to agree.

So here’s my vow: if I hit 100 videos and still haven’t found my people, I’m calling it quits. But until then, I’ll keep recycling my content and seeing if it sticks somewhere else.

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Rolling Away the Screen

My TV is on wheels—a clever hack I picked up from TikTok. Last week, I rolled it right into my parents’ new bedroom and took it as a sign: it was time to kick my TV habit for good. So I’ve returned to my roots—NPR, NTS Radio, and library books. What a lifestyle shift. Already, I feel more relaxed, more at home.

I just finished Deep Water by Patricia Highsmith, one of my favorite authors. Now I’m rereading The Tremor of Forgery—still one of the best on my Highsmith list. Next, I’m tackling This Sweet Sickness. I also plan to revisit her biography; it’s perfect dark, moody fall reading.

Speaking of Highsmith, there’s another book I used to dip into back in my pre-Lex days, whenever I found myself with free time in Greenwich Village. It’s Highsmith: A Romance of the 1950s by Marijane Meaker, one of Highsmith’s former lovers and an accomplished writer in her own right. I’d sneak into The Center’s LGBT Community Center Library and read it—a juicy memoir of their relationship. One winter, they lived in a house in upstate New York, in Delaware County, where they spent their days drinking, cooking, writing, and, well, you can imagine the rest. I never finished the book because I didn’t have enough time in the library, but I left a bookmark in it. If you ever visit, don’t lose my place!

For something to listen to, I recommend NTS Radio. Right now, I’m enjoying The Breakfast Show with Louise Chen and Lionel Boyce.

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I’m realizing this medley format is just an expansion of my 3 little notes at the bottom of my usual Substacks.