So the thing about a bit of very casual, not even clandestine, smoking again, even just when you're just having a drink, is if you say you're doing it because you are sad about this minor romantic thing is that people will just say, What!? Tell us then... So scratch that. Just say it's fun, even more so now that the weather is better. Word on the street is that tipsy-blogging after book parties is by far the most popular feature on Lux Lotus so I'll happily indulge you, my dears...
Unbelievably hectic workday involving many stressful issues that I will not bore you with and anyway, they all ran so late that I was running late too, jumping in a cab in the rain and ending up sashaying breathlessly (in a chartreuse dress and black boots) ten minutes late into a lecture by W.S DiPiero at the New York Studio School. Everyone's favorite venture capitalist was a student of his in college and so we went. I thought DiPiero was going to read from his new book, Chinese Apples, but instead he gave a talk on all my favorite things: the relationship between words and painting, art and existence, breaking things down and building them back up, Fra Angelico, Browning, Baudelaire, Delacroix, Demuth, William Carlos Williams, Mallarme, Rilke, Rodin, the meaning of symbolism, et al, and then he ended it all with a beautiful poem by Frank O'Hara. It was something and I was so sorry I didn't have a pen. I wanted to text myself some notes -- especially the bit about material and perfection and experience and 'the thing' but I didn't want him to think I was a jerk.
Afterwards EFVC and I went for tapas and it was so nice, in a way. It's funny though when someone makes more money in one day then you'll probably make in your life, e.g. a quarter of a billion dollars, and he at least bought dinner, right? But I learned an important lesson: life is not about money; everyone just wants to feel loved and accepted and appreciated. It's a strange new world in that regard. Until recently, I more or less thought life was all about being generally... acquisitive. Not so. But obviously I've never lived that way, even if to my parents I'll always have failed for somehow not becoming the adult version of the 15 year old obsessed with M&A (fortunately everyone's favorite bond trader has that covered). I am glad that I do what I do because it matters to me.
And also, I learned another important lesson, and I know we don't often talk about feminism explicitly here but, ma petite belles, there is a reason that les hommes are running the world and it is: POCKETS. I didn't take a bag tonight, instead shoving keys etc. in my trench (and how I loved that someone noticed I would be wearing it, as promised!) and honestly, life is really different when you're not hunched under the burden of an enormous purse full of things of a superfluous nature. Liberating, even. So handbags, gorgeous as they are, let's try and forget them if you/we can. After all those delicious Spanish dishes with that dear sweet friend of mine who I will always adore for tracking down this for me and bringing it back and always sending me nice notes on my birthday about how special I am, I headed over to a publishing industry party connected to events I probably couldn't care less about but my, it was a good time.
Colson Whitehead is really cool. So is Richard Nash. And Levi Asher. And Bud Parr. And how lucky I am to cross paths will any of these people even for a moment. That being said I am also very, very grateful to 'Lauren from the past' for deciding that taking a vacation next week would be a brilliant idea all those months ago. Gotta meet deadlines and pack, doves, and I'll miss you every moment -- even when I'm reading African Psycho on the Dalmation Coast -- and I'll be thinking of you. Back soon. XOXO.
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