Good morning, Monday. Well, another year. Today's my birthday and if nothing else, I'm grateful to friends and family who make life worth living. I got to check out Brimfield this weekend- an amazingly huge flea market up in Mass that is so up my alley. More on that tomorrow.
But for now, I thought I would play around a little with one of my favorite bits of prose of all time- that amazing "Choose Life" sequence from one of my favorite movies, "Trainspotting". You know the one. If not, read it here. It was a great comment on society and a generation gone mad.
So as I'm deep in that 40s zone now, my vantage point is quite possibly more cynical than ever, but more in a poking fun kind of way than an "I hate the world" kind of way. There is so much crazy stuff happening it's worth noting a few things that choosing life entails nowadays. So here's my little riff on that epic rant from back in the day:
Choose life. Choose a shared work space. Choose a career with a slash in it. Choose frozen eggs. Choose a fucking smart phone, smart thermostat, smart refrigerator. Choose all appliances that are smarter than you are. Choose $900 a month dance classes, choose gluten free, choose to not eat carbs and wave away the bread basket in disgust. Choose living in a van and Instragramming it. Choose friends that make you feel insecure because they're so accomplished. Choose the Hudson Valley over Montauk. Choose yoga pants from Bandier and wear them all damn day. Choose any of the real housewives, even though New York is the best. Choose luggage with a vintage appeal. Choose Gucci. Choose Vetements. Choose a babouche. Choose a backless loafer. Choose to feel hopeful because of couture. And Celine Dion. Choose a fixer upper with great bones. Choose to listen to the Talking Heads with a smack of irony. Choose the 80s. Choose the 90s. Choose to obsessively watch memes of Trump shaking hands. Choose well how did I get here? Choose binge watching. Choose vaping. Choose rose, frose, and poo shaped pool floaties. Choose fillers over Botox. Choose to go with your gut, then be afraid of your gut, and choose something else. Choose working from home, and then resent it. Choose WeWork and then resent that. Choose naming your children after vegetables or fallen rock heroes. Choose flowy fabrics and embrace gender fluidity. Choose air bnb, as long as there's good products in the bathroom. Choose googling everyone and everything you've ever met or known. Choose rock and roll spin classes because it somehow makes it ok. Choose midcentury modern all day, every day. Choose brunch. Choose avocados. Choose chia seeds. Choose eating like Tom and Gisele. Choose mom jeans even though nobody really looks good in them. Choose dry shampoo. Choose cushion compacts. Choose surfing. Choose an overwhelming amount of skincare and skinceuticals. Choose magical dusts of all kinds. Choose perennial self identification as edification. Choose meditation. Choose bikinis that look great on Instagram. Choose Goldendoodles, Labradoodles, and doodles of all kinds. Choose to read the print edition of the New York Times, but only on Sundays. Choose Matcha. Choose leaning in, standing up, and running with blinders on. Choose hip hop that makes no sense. Choose to shit on Coachella . Choose selfies and Facebook Live and Instagram stories. Choose singing and dancing in your car like everyone's watching. Choose to embrace your body type. Choose puppies. And kittens. And baby goats. Choose fake news. Choose to not worry about OJ getting out of prison. Choose Soho House, Ludlow House, Neue House. Choose first world problems, then laugh about them, then cry about them. Choose to resist in silence. Choose from a million gazillion things but most of all, make good choices. Choose to hate all of the above, choose to hate yourself, and then choose to love yourself all over again. Then choose to be a life coach. Because this is the life you chose. Choose life.
SNAP SNAP SNAP.
Of course, the original rant ends in Renton choosing heroin. Because why would he choose life when there's heroin? Don't worry, I'm not choosing heroin. But I am amazed at how much worse this rant has become since that movie first came out in 1996. Trainspotting 2 came out recently and there's a whole new list, but this is my list, from my uniquely situated vantage point halfway there. Somewhere. Anywhere. This is where I'm at with how ridiculous we've all become, present company included. I don't choose everything on this list, but Lord knows I'm guilty of much of it. This whole little diatribe was spurred by an insane article in the Independent about Tracy Anderson's $900 a month gym on the Upper East Side, which made me feel sick to my stomach. Who and why? Read it here. And then choose life. Although after reading this piece, heroin seems like a pretty good idea. We've clearly lost our edge. Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down...
Cause that's what's up this slightly (more than slightly) cynical birthday in the 718. Yours, in choosing all the choices and them some, because Lord knows this list could go on forever. Same as it ever was, and once in a lifetime. XO