My office smells delicious. This is partly because I am drinking really delicious coffee, partly because my little sister sent an enormous bouquet of roses for my birthday, and partly because I bought myself a perfume redolent of a lover, a fireplace, a whiskey, and very dark chocolate.
Delicious.
This is not the only thing I bought for my birthday. I also bought a bright red lipstick, a bright yellow ladder, and a bright orange cup—all things I needed or wanted very much and assumed no one else would provide for me. I mention this because of my long-held belief that if there’s something that I want, it is on me to obtain it. This is why I went missing for the last four days, both on this blog and in real life. Experience has taught me that the best way to turn a new age is to disappear into the wild and attune with forces bigger and more ancient than those normally that drive you. If I’m being more honest—and this year I intend to practice that kind of conscious vulnerability—I also disappear to gird against disappointment.
A disappearance seemed especially wise after the recent ugliness with Mr. Oyster. So this year I headed for the hills—upstate, actually, which is a region I’ve avoided since the months after September 11, 2001. I’d intended to spend a few days at the beach but thought releasing my old antipathy would set a better tone for this new year. 2016 is all about breaking internal glass ceilings. Continue Reading →
