Our Brains Are Like Bonsai

At The End Of Each Year, I Sit On The Floor And Go Page By Page Through The Old Calendar, Inking Annual Events Into The New One, All The While Watching My Year In 'dinner Withs' Skate By. When I'm Done, I Save The Old Calendar In The Box Of The New One And Put It With The Others On A Shelf.

I Don't Really Think Of My Essays As Being About Myself. I Know It Sounds Insane, But I Just Don't Think Of Them As A Memoir. They're Essays; They're Not An Autobiography.

My Grandmother Was A Kind Of Scarsdale, New York, Society Woman, Best Known In Her Day As The Author Of The 1959 Book 'growing Your Own Way: An Informal Guide For Teen-agers' - This Despite Being A Person Whose Parenting Style Made Joan Crawford's Wire Hangers Look Like Pool Noodles.

I Now Know My Right From My Left And My Up From My Down. Unluckily, My Terrible Sense Of Direction Remains. For Me, To Live In New York City Is To Never Be Able To Meet Someone On The Northeast Corner. It Is To Never Ever Make A Smooth Entrance, Always To Get Caught Looking Lost On The Street.

I Definitely Rediscovered Reading For Pleasure By Devoting Such A Large Swath Of My Time To Sitting On Airplanes. I Am Now Painfully Adept At Removing My Shoes So As To Have The Least Amount Of Foot Surface Area Touching An Airport Floor.