I already have long black skirts in natural fibers, and faux leather chokers with precious stone pendants. I have already grown my hair only so that I can tie it back with a thick rubber band. I spent an extra fifty dollars on clogs that look distressed. My brown sweater hoodie has a hole in the armpit. I put on an anklet. I will burn a tan around it. Not burn a burn, like always. I am ready.
I will listen to albums that are all drum and bass. The quality of the recordings will be so good that I will be able to hear the drummer – or, less ideally, the bassist – breathe. I will try to decide if the breathing is deliberate. I will try to decide whether it is part of the soul in creation, or a marker for the next measure of miracle. While I do this, there will always be a clear, sweaty glass of water in my hand.
I will generate dry cleaning, and I will take it to the dry cleaner. I will pay someone to change my oil and someone else to make my coffee. I will insist on soy milk in my coffee, which will also be half caff. I will walk around my neighborhood with a friend – no, a walking buddy. I will retile the patio and I will talk about nothing else for weeks. Instead of relying on one good recipe, I will make an assortment of mediocre baked goods. I will start taking ibuprofen three times a week, even if nothing hurts that ibuprofen would fix.
I will sew. I won’t finish anything I start. I will laugh about that. I will have one tote bag that is from an event that in theory, I might have attended. I will use the tote bag to carry things that aren’t outdated coupons and lists. I will figure out what those things might be, very soon.
I will stop looking at sad-eyed manchildren in black t-shirts and instead look at tired-eyed hard workers wearing any style of pants more flattering than pleated chinos.
I will eat breakfast at 6am every day. It will be cooked steel-cut oatmeal, and berries from the farmers market when they are in season. I will go to the farmers market every Saturday, after I finish my breakfast. I will pause at the raspberries and marvel at their warmth in the sun. I will further marvel that all of us expect them to be cold when they are in the grocery store. I will tell someone else this at least once a week, and no more than that. I will keep track of this with a subtle mark in my handbound day planner, to which I will refer at least twice daily.
While driving to the farmers market at 7am every Saturday, I will talk on my wireless handset, in violation of state law. If I can’t find someone to talk to that early in the morning, I will invent an eccentric friend in an artist’s colony in Taos, where it will be 4am. She will not have been able to sleep, she is so filled with inspiration. I will envy her. And I will sigh with that envy, so loudly that my wireless handset echoes from my mouth to my ear.
Read more about Erin here.
Read more about Scott here.