🙅🏻♀️ The book I avoided buying for 12 years, part two
These last few years, I've been playing blackjack with the city (and the universe): Who will fold first?
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Catch up on part one first:
“There is no path that goes all the way.
Not that it stops us looking
for the full continuation.”
—Opening lines from
’s poem, “No Path”Where we left off . . .
Last week, over a quinoa bowl at a Hudson Yards rooftop on a sticky summer evening before a free Reading Rhythms event, I looked squarely in the face of my credit card statements. This was after a month or two of avoiding them, despite knowing that avoiding them was not what a Responsible Adult™ would do, but that I could only take so much anguish at one time without a clear solution to solve it.
I noted that figure alongside my projected revenue for the remainder of the year, scanned the scant remaining balance of my easily accessible savings (short of cashing in a 401k two decades too early), and in a sickening moment of realization, I knew what needed to happen next.
But first, I’d buy the damn book.
