How to be a Person
Or, Thoughts for a Tuesday Morning
Ennui is a luxury and aging is a privilege.
The last bit of wine in the fridge is probably for you.
Repeated rejection is liberating — welcome it.
Shut up, sometimes. Speak up, sometimes. Timing is everything.
Slow down, excessively, for tailgaters and blow them a kiss if they rage-pass.
My grandmother — the haughty one, the one with the steamroll spirit — said to always wear clean undies, lest you wind up in the emergency room.
Shoes matter. Don’t be dismissed out of hand because of your bad shoes.
Keep some things to yourself. Butt selfies, for example — no one needs that.
Don’t be a bully. Be a clown or a fool, an instigator, an anarchist, a contrarian, a nebbish. But, please, don’t be a bully. We have enough of those.
Pick up that thing on the floor and do right with it.
Toilet paper threads over the top.
No cheese with fish, generally speaking.
Hygiene. Be untidy, careless, frowzy, mismatched — you be you, but a reasonably clean version thereof.
Defend your right to cookies. It’s the bullies trying to take your cookies, don’t let them.
Cookies in moderation.
Read absolutely everything.
Listen and apologize.
Be kind to the crazy neighbor burning recliners in his driveway. He’s the lead in his own story.
Rescue something or someone, at least once.
Laugh aloud, alone, in public. Turn heads. Make them think.
Go to a museum. Find a Vermeer.
Coltrane may save you. Or Monk. Or Bach, Telemann, Mozart. Zappa, Dylan, Hendrix. Adele, Amy, Nina. You get the point. Find it. Save yourself.
Write it down.