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They spent their money on books and experiences, not upholstery or décor. She could still see them in this living room with their friends, maybe fueled by a little too much alcohol,
the debates lasting into the wee hours of the morning in the days when disagreeing was considered a good thing, when differing viewpoints were welcomed because they challenged and honed your thinking rather than producing anger and scorn.
On her right is a too-inviting pink-crème bathtub the approximate size of a Cadillac Escalade. On her left is a black-stone shower room—room, not stall—with an array of showerheads.
I DON’T SNORE. I DREAM I’M A MOTORCYCLE.
she realized that one of life’s greatest and most unappreciated luxuries was a hot shower.
hot showers were not common until the 1970s.
“Enjoy the smaller moments,” her father
had often told her. “That’s where li...
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She hangs up and throws on black jeans, boots, a denim shirt, and a blazer. It’s a massive mind melt that never seems to have a
clear answer: Never be too provocative but never be too stuffy… Oh, but have a sense of style and always know what’s trending so you don’t appear, gasp, out of date—always trying to find the right balance between feminine and practical. Utterly exhausting.
It’s good to be rich.
channeling her father, who expressed his appreciation for modern life with gusto and enthusiasm.
Channeling My mother, not father
We carry the seeds of our own self-destruction.
They were all strong, funny, smart, bright-eyed, with smiles that could cleave your heart in two—colorful, powerful life forces that were vibrant one moment, and dust the next. It isn’t hard to die. It doesn’t take much. That’s the worst part of it. There is a saying: “When one man dies, a whole universe dies,” and while the implications are obvious—the death of even a single soul is like destroying a world, that human life has profound value—dying
Life is always a high school cafeteria.
and they just lay there, in the bed, side to side,
