Last summer this guy I was kinda dating in an adolescent sort of way asked for a playlist of my favorite songs from high school — “a musical snapshot,” he said. Compiling the soundtrack to my burgeoning teen angst turned out to be weirdly pleasurable, like wiggling a loose tooth. Here I walk you through five of my faves…
Fire escapes. Not buildings exactly, but accessories. Iron rods fused into vessels of descent—and departure. Some were painted blue or yellow or green, but most were black. Black staircases. I could spend a whole hour sitting across the street from a six-floor walk-up studying the zig-zags that clung to a building filled with so many hidden lives. All that richness and drama sealed away in a fortress whose walls echoed with communication of elemental or exquisite language—and yet only the fire escape, a clinging extremity, inanimate and often rusting, spoke—in its hardened, exiled silence, with the most visible human honesty: We are capable of disaster. And we are scared.
This kind of night.
“Basically, I realized I was living in that awful stage of life between twenty-six and thirty-seven known as stupidity. It’s when you don’t know anything, not even as much as you did when you were younger, and you don’t even have a philosophy about all the things you don’t know, the way you did when you were twenty or would again when you were thirty-eight.”
― Lorrie Moore, Anagrams
working from the assumption that all critical terms are best represented by animal gifs
This thing I wrote, now officially published.
There’s actually no such thing as an adult. That word is a placeholder. We never grow up. We’re not supposed to. We’re born and that’s it. We get bigger. We live through great storms. We get soaked to the bone. We realize we’re waterproof. We strive for calm.