I think ghosts are energy that lingers over time and, if it’s not cleared or amplified, it can be made manifest. Not to be metaphysical—I see the clutter that arises out of hoarding in the same way, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Houses, especially those steeped in history, are inherently liminal spaces—they exist at the threshold between the past and the present, the seen and the unseen.
We were once afraid of the darkness in the open expanse of the wilderness at night, and now the darkness is contained with us within four walls. You don’t know what’s going on in those four walls until you’re inside and staying there for a while, whether it’s an overnight stay as a guest, a lease with a fixed term, or a long-term purchase.
Mark Fisher’s concept of the weird captures this unease perfectly. The weird is that which feels out of place—an energy, an object, or a memory that doesn’t belong but refuses to leave. Houses are often full of these anomalies: a creaking floorboard, a shadow in the corner of your eye, a strange layout that never quite makes sense. These small dissonances accumulate, creating an atmosphere that feels uncanny, as though the house itself is alive and aware of your presence.
The trap of the house is also deeply modern. Once you discover its unsettling secrets, you have to stay there, tethered by responsibility and the cost of leaving. The house becomes a site of entrapment—a perfect example of Fisher’s liminal, where you’re stuck in a space that isn’t quite safe but isn’t immediately escapable either, with whispers and presence making themselves known to you from out of time.
If this resonates, you might enjoy my autobiographical contemporary gothic story about living in a house that used to be an old maternity hospital (pictured), where I explore these feelings and ideas. You can read it here: Haunting.
Dec 28, 2024
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A little spooky but ultimately sentimental and nostalgic
Apr 19, 2024
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Homes are beings, or at least they seem to be. They shift and readjust themselves. They make noises, creaks and thuds. They house you but also creepy creatures. They’ve got organs in the form of radiators and furnaces and boilers, each moving and reacting to the house. Houses can be wonderful and I love ours. But I’ve also experienced a 1:06 AM noise that was unexpected and it shook me. They’re just more than a building, they’re sort of a creature in themselves.
Dec 28, 2024
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houses are supposed to be a place of comfort, but gothic stories subvert this. the feeling of the uncanny occurs when the familiar becomes unfamiliar- for example, scary and unsettling things going on in the home, which should be a place of refuge. the haunting of hill house is a great gothic haunted house example !
Dec 28, 2024
Top Recs from @taterhole
My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌
Feb 23, 2025
Schedule sent my resignation email for the morning, effective immediately ✅💅
Feb 27, 2025
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I’ve been thinking about how much of social media is centered around curating our self-image. When selfies first became popular, they were dismissed as vain and vapid—a critique often rooted in misogyny—but now, the way we craft our online selves feels more like creating monuments.
We try to signal our individuality, hoping to be seen and understood, but ironically, I think this widens the gap between how others perceive us and who we really are. Instead of fostering connection, it can invite projection and misinterpretation—preconceived notions, prefab labels, and stereotypes. Worse, individuality has become branded and commodified, reducing our identities to products for others to consume.
On most platforms, validation often comes from how well you can curate and present your image—selfies, aesthetic branding, and lifestyle content tend to dominate. High engagement is tied to visibility, not necessarily depth or substance. But I think spaces like PI.FYI show that there’s another way: where connection is built on shared ideas, tastes, and interests rather than surface-level content. It’s refreshing to be part of a community that values thoughts over optics.
By sharing so few images of myself, I’ve found that it gives others room to focus on my ideas and voice. When I do share an image, it feels intentional—something that contributes to the story I want to tell rather than defining it. Sharing less allows me to express who I am beyond appearance.
For women, especially, sharing less can be a radical act in a world where the default is to objectify ourselves. It resists the pressure to center appearance, focusing instead on what truly matters: our thoughts, voices, and authenticity. I’ve posted a handful of pictures of myself in 2,500 posts because I care more about showing who I am than how I look.
In trying to be seen, are we making it harder for others to truly know us? It’s a question worth considering.
Dec 27, 2024