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Until then …
The only way to write a book is to conquer the idea of letting go…so….even though I’m totally horrified to hit SEND, here is the first chapter of Apron Anxiety! Just remember, it only gets better, juicier, sadder, happier, sexier, deeper, darker, drunker and more delicious. I’d be hiding under my bed for the next ten years if I didn’t truly believe so.
So I had one of those magical moments recently where everything in life kind-of clicked into place.
Growing up, the original “Forever Young” was our song. I’ll never be able to listen to it without tearing up. Mostly, it makes me happy, thinking about my friends from home. It makes me remember our youth, reminding me that life moves fast, too fucking fast. But it also makes my heart hurt thinking about my girlfriend who is gone now, and other small-town stories that haven’t been fair. That’s just how life goes.
Then last week, I had a photo shoot for the book at Milk Studios. In my black, strapless pant-suit and cherry-bomb YSL lipstick, I felt completely out of my league. The photographer told me to unclench my jaw, to “look like you have a secret,” to loosen my shoulders, fix my posture, and shift my face from bitchy to bold. Ahhh! The game is over, I told myself, I don’t belong here.
Then this song came on.
As a testament to how little free time I’ve had over the last year and a half, I hadn’t even heard it before. “Wait, how did Jay-Z get into Forever Young?!” I asked, instantly refueled by the beat. The photo-stylists smirked, but nicely. Yeah, yeah, it’s been out for a while, I learned.
Suddenly, the sound got in my bones. I started to have fun, be proud, feel light. But it was also incredibly powerful. Like I was channeling the seventeen-year old on Eunice Drive who would dream of her future, envisioning this EXACT moment, set to these EXACT words.
Now it’s all so unbelievably real. And as I lived it and loved it for a few minutes there, everything in life made perfect sense. Or at least it did…in that moment…to this song…at Milk Studios.
(Source: laurennnnbell)
Listen to this song - I heard it on Californication, which I once loved but now think is so cheap and stupidly over-sexualized, however… the song is a beauty. Hold on tight. And obviously, don’t smoke. But do note the photography by: Miranda Lehman.
HaHa. Learned how to reblog just in time.
fuckyournoguchicoffeetable: Fuck your Egg Chair.
Is everyone reading Pippa’s blog yet? You probably should. (via sousstyle.com)
All day long I only wanted junk food. Like, not success or world peace, just junk. Pleased myself with French Fries from Sunrise Mart - it’s this Japanese Market near work and they have the best damn fries I’ve ever had. Thick-cut and freshly made, crispy on the outside, mashed on the inside, and sprinkled with tons of salt, and even more pepper. The pepper totally makes it. A bucket of those fries and a sparkling water may be my favorite meal in New York right now. Anyway, voila clementine-art above, just because I love the shot. And while I generally believe nothing tastes as good as a fresh piece of fruit exactly as is, those things must be sublime. PS- Winter makes me so freaking hungry.
Surreal. Intense. Ridiculous.
Sat at Waverly Diner alone over a cup of tea and unwrapped the first almost-real copy of the book. Cried a little. Tried to read/enjoy as a normal, not an author. Found a typo! Had a heart attack. Got an email response that it’s an easy fix. Dunked a cheese danish into the tea. Told my old, Spanish waiter that I was reading my very own book! He patted my head and poured me more water. Wondered if it was painful or perfect that I was experiencing this moment all alone. Decided on perfect. Left ten bucks and got on the train. Rode the A four stops home, reading more. Pondered if anyone was thinking, “that looks good.” Maybe they did.
Now sleep.
