Season 2

Tonight, Sleepy, we begin with a telephone meeting, pass through the strange social weather of voices without faces, and somehow end up inside Seinfeld , holding a babka with a hair in it and asking questions no one strictly asked us to ask. This is an episode about what happens when a tiny thought ...

Hi Sleepy. Tonight I sit in a tin container in the backyard, talking about monkeys. Not real monkeys. Pieces of monkey. You and me. Worried, wandering, trying to control things that don’t listen. We drift through spring in Stockholm, where the light insists on hope while something quieter resists. A...

Hi Sleepy. I start somewhere near a phone. Or maybe in the absence of one. I circle around how we look at screens to escape a world that doesn’t quite fit its own stories anymore. Then I drift. Into Jack Bauer, into old TV rhythms, into the idea that maybe we’ve lost the space in between things. The...

Sleepy… tonight I find myself somewhere between a waiting room and a memory of falling down the stairs with a sandwich in mind. I talk about time that disappears when no one is looking. About being early. Always early. Sitting there while life behaves perfectly most of the time, even if we insist on...

Hi Sleepy. Tonight I start a story and immediately question it, which feels right. There’s a woman named Constance Mallory. She has green shutters she once painted during a summer that didn’t try to be anything special. And a house that knows her. Or thinks it does. We move slowly through rooms, thr...