I have been self-isolating for one day less than three weeks, and it has been a fascinating interlude in my life. It has given me unforeseen free time to consider […]
Monday: Why don’t you use these two weeks of recommended quarantine to see what your beard would look like if you were to grow it out? I’ve never been the […]
It’s cruel that life is so short. One hundred years is hardly enough time to make a dent on our interests. I know that there are some people who think that life is too long and depressing and awful, but I have always loved living.
New Year’s Eve is the only holiday that feels truly worth going all out for. I love the specificity of midnight, I relish the idea of reflecting on the good memories and preparing for better ones to come, and I thrive on the suggestion of reinvention. Each new year, though it truly means nothing, is an opportunity to try something new, learn, broaden, and seek. We don’t have to make resolutions, and I’m particularly opposed to resolutions, but we always have an opportunity to cheekily say, “New year, new me.”
In my forever goal to live in a vacation home, I have discovered that I have certain faults. I am a hoarder of beautiful things and I have an unhealthy obsession with plates. I don’t think I’ve ever left an antique shop without a new piece of gilded Limoges porcelain, and I don’t think I’ve ever had room service in a hotel without “accidentally” “dropping” a plate into my “bag.” Whatever, I admit it’s a problem and I’m doing so much better about it.
My Spanish skills don’t come from laundry, they come from obsessively watching episodes of “La Reina del Sur.” If you want to talk about smuggling hashish to Spain from North Africa, I’m you guy. If you want to talk about the prison system, look no further. If you want to talk about the early hours of morning when the sunlight casts everything in a grey pall and it’s the moment that at some point in your life you’re sure you will pass on, well, I’m you guy. But if you want to talk about the different treatments for rayon….look elsewhere.
He was strongly influenced by one of the most important and derided albums of all time, “Paris,” by Paris Hilton. I knew I loved him then. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you’ll ever know how significant Paris Hilton’s debut album is. I’m not going to get into that even though it is one of the seminal albums of our age…I connected immediately with the mysterious gay cowboy and his dramatic mask. In other interviews, he gushes over Dolly Parton and her wigs with the reverence of an art history major wandering through the Louvre for the first time. I am captivated by him.
Monday:Why don’t you evaluate your life and see what habits you could improve upon or add to make the quotidian tasks of the day more pleasant? Maybe you eat too […]
Monday:Why don’t you commission an artist to paint a recreation of your favorite painting in the Louvre or from whatever museum you haunt? I’ve long been enchanted by David With […]
And most of all, I think, I would miss the courtyard of the apartment complex. It is, for me, my favorite place on Earth. I revel in the well with it’s aluminum roof, the bougainvillea that creeps along the crumbling enclosure walls, the potted plants that look as if they’ve been sat there for a hundred years, and the random animals and people that would come traipsing through. I’d miss sitting there at night, sipping tequila, looking at the stars which were oddly bright in that cosmopolitan place, thinking of how wonderful and marvelous life could be.