P.E. Moskowitz

1 week ago | mentalhellth.xyz | P.E. Moskowitz

A pig is a pig because it is well-fed and well-kept on a farm and given care (and accepts that care for itself). It exists as a pig because it is a pro-society creature; a creature whose very being is enabled by culture—in this case agriculture, which is not the same as the kind of culture we think of when we think of culture (Broadway, museums, etc.), but still a culture nonetheless.

3 weeks ago | mentalhellth.xyz | P.E. Moskowitz

Writing is hard. When I do it, it often causes me pain. No matter how much I try to just sit down and get the words out, I must first battle myself—parts of my brain engaged in combat with each other over which word comes next, over what to withhold from the page. This will sometimes cause me to jump up from my desk like I’ve been shocked, and then pace around, and then eat a pretzel or five to calm down. Which is to say: writing is an inherently frictive process.

1 month ago | mentalhellth.xyz | P.E. Moskowitz

Hello, this isn’t what I normally write about on Mental Hellth obviously, but I wrote this essay about my favorite TV show ever a few months ago for another publication, and then the package it was supposed to be included in was killed. I really like this essay, and I really like 30 Rock, so now you get to read it here, yay.

1 month ago | mentalhellth.xyz | P.E. Moskowitz

Emily Carmichael is a writer and editor who has appeared in The Washington Post, The Believer, The Connecticut Examiner, NOLA.com, Outside Magazine, and elsewhere. She was previously the managing editor of Fifty Grande. A few years ago, I was at one of those Brooklyn warehouse parties when I had a conversation with The Founder of an AI company that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind. He told me that relationships had failed him. He felt unrecognized.

1 month ago | gq.com | P.E. Moskowitz

At a certain point, posting on “X,” the platform everyone still calls Twitter, began to feel humiliating to me. Like, yesss, give me all those likes! Validate me!! I neeeed your attention and adoration and love!! Going viral would make me feel better. Temporarily, of course—until my dopamine crashed back down and I needed the rush all over again. This felt unsustainable. And worse than that, it felt icky. I still post sometimes, but I now feel a deep sense of shame when I do.