“A country that demands moral perfection in its foreign policy will achieve neither perfection nor security”
― Henry Kissinger
Chapter 1:
“I don’t know what I want to say,” I said aloud to my friend, while initiating this book. But jeez louise, I look back on that woman and I don’t even recognize her. Ultimately, the words just poured out of me. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take it all the way back to the beginning.
The day was September 29th, 2025. An overcast day. The kind that makes you think: if it was a warmer day, I would probably go out and do something befitting the good weather. An activity like the zoo. Or perhaps renting one of those canopied surreys in the park. The kind that has four seats and requires tandem pedaling. Some of my best memories were on surreys in the park and I always thought to myself: if given the opportunity, I would relive these memories.
But on that day I learned: you can’t always relive the past. I also learned: surrey rentals are seasonal. Like the seasons of life. Life as I see it has four seasons. Like the earth. Winter: cold. Spring: less so. Summer: hottest of them all, some say. And Fall? Well for more information about Fall you’ll just have to keep reading.
But there I am again: getting ahead of myself! Jeez Louise, I look back on me typing this sentence and I think: jeez louise. Dear reader: I suggest you start chapter 2. Because that’s when this story really gets going...
Chapter 2:
Ok where was I? Lost. Lost is where I was. But it turns out: wherever you go, there you are.
This was a thing I learned way back when I was born. I was born in April, FYI. T.S. Eliot once said: “April is the cruelest month.” Now it should be noted: T.S. Eliot is an inferior writer to me. Because if he really knew what was up, he’d understand that February is basically terrible. But anyhoo, that’s neither here nor there.
So I got born in April. Straight from my mother. She took tylenol when she was pregnant with me. A byproduct of the fact that I broke one of the lesser known pelvic bones in utero. I say lesser known because she told me literally yesterday which one but I forgot. I wish I could call her to find out more but that usually turns into a longer conversation. And who has the time? I’m a writer! Lifestyle wise it means that my writing endeavors come first.
So anyway, as I was saying, she took a lot of tylenol. Now I’ve recently come to find that this explains a whole lot about me. Like my ability to hyperfocus and write my book basically in one day. T.S. Eliot couldn’t do this, I’m told. For more information about the artist’s process, head to chapter 10.
Chapter 3:
So I should probably get started on this book. What’s it about? What isn’t it about? Here are things this book isn’t:
A book about the Opium Wars.
A book about design in the 20th century
A book with cocktail recipes
A historical epic about Viking exploration
Lastly, a book about orchid thieves. If that is what is of interest, I suggest: The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean (the author who graciously provided a blurb for my book, calling it “incendiary: a must read for all people who live today”. If reading that blurb is of interest, I suggest: flipping to the cover of this book.)
One of my earliest memories is of the time that my childhood dog accompanied me down the stairs to the garage. I was about three years old. The dog’s name was Sparkle, I know that much. It’s just a snapshot but, there you have it: memory can be tricky. Another memory from this time: falling into a hot tub. The rush of hot water going all around my body. My hands, my feet, my shins, my elbows. My ears, my eyelids, my stomach also. I remember the drastic shift, from room temperature and dry to suddenly hot and wet. Not until I was picked up out of the hot tub did I realize what had happened by virtue of the fall into the hot tub. I was also about three years old at this time. But perhaps closer to four years old. But there you have it: memory can be tricky.
My mother can substantiate this but I don’t want to call her: it would lead to another conversation and I don’t have time for that. But let this be a lesson to all: call your mothers. Unless you don’t want to. But consider: doing so. Because she gave you life. And if you can’t reach her? I’m sorry. Or I’m not. You might have totally ok feelings about that. Relationships can be tricky. And that’s what this book is about. Ok here we go. Here is the start of my book...
Chapter 4:
“Paper or plastic?” the cashier asked. And there I was: paralyzed by indecision. With paper you feel ok about throwing it away. But the handles are often faulty. That’s how a lot of stuff can be. Sometimes the right decision is the one that feels precarious.
So here’s an example of the above: I remember when I was getting my dog I had the choice between her and her sister. Callie, as she was known back then, was high energy and had a little tail. I loved that because it signaled excitement. Mollie, her sister, was more laidback but always put my shoelaces in her mouth. I thought: I cannot fucking deal with that. So I went with Callie. Also because she was sold to me at a discount because one of her ears was kind of bent forward.
This was the right decision because she was $200 cheaper. But this was also a precarious decision because my dog is poorly behaved and also required a $15,000 knee surgery in November (of last year-- you know the one). It was the day after the 2024 election and, as a result of the stress of the surgery, I don’t remember who became president that day. I still don’t recall. And that’s ok: because ultimately, no big news resulted from that election or that presidential term.
That’s what’s cool about decisions. Sometimes they don’t matter and nothing changes for anyone. In fact, if I was challenged to describe life in the pages of a book, I would say this: life is forever the same. Static. And therefore there are no lessons to be learned because things are always about the same as things were before and people worry about future change but they shouldn’t because statistically, nothing ever changes. For more information about whether there is logical consistency to this statement, see: Epilogue.
Chapter 5:
Ok let’s get down to brass tax. Or, as I just learned by Googling: brass tacks.
That’s the thing about writing. Sometimes you use the wrong words. And that’s ok! I never said I was the expert on words. Who is? Who really is?
If I think really hard about that question I actually think Nabokov was particularly agile with words. I mean I’ve read certain words he’s written, in the order he wrote them, and thought: wowza. This guy gets it. Wordswise. And what’s particularly cool is that some of his best novels were written in a language that wasn’t his first language which, for the uninitiated, is Russian.
Born in Imperial Russia in 1899, Nabokov wrote his first nine novels in Russian (1926–1938) while living in Berlin, where he met his wife, Véra Nabokov. He achieved international acclaim and prominence after moving to the United States, where he began writing in English. Trilingual in Russian, English, and French, Nabokov became a U.S. citizen in 1945 and lived mostly on the East Coast before returning to Europe in 1961, where he settled in Montreux, Switzerland.
Now I know what you’re thinking: how do you pronounce Montreux? I know the feeling well. I’m not the expert on French words either.
Chapter 6
This is the chapter about just letting loose and being yourself. That’s a hard thing to do sometimes when you have to pretend to be someone else, in settings such as: work or the elevator. Worse yet when it’s an elevator to get to work.
What’s your favorite memory of being in an elevator? Think back, long and hard. If you’re afraid of elevators, I kind of get it because I understand claustrophobia (conceptually-- I don’t have any fears along those lines because I am pretty well-adjusted). If you’re afraid about elevators plummeting, though? That one doesn’t make sense. You should understand how counterweights work in elevators. The real concern is actually shooting up, into the ceiling and then, ultimately, into space. By the time you reach around 26,000 feet, there will be too little oxygen to breathe. You will die. And worse yet, if you were trying to get to work, you’ll not be able to get to the work you intended to reach.
Chapter 7:
You ever have that feeling where you’re like: damn, I have too many tabs open? Boy, it has happened to me too. I know. Me! Someone who has written perhaps one of the most important books of our time.
Sometimes when I look at the tabs I think: I’ll get to that later. That, my friends, is not the best idea. One of the things I recommend doing is: seizing the day. So whatever you can do today, do do.
For busy people like people with a lot of kids or many dishes in the sink, this is not practical advice. Hey, I never said that I was here to fix your life! But anyway, I don’t really see why you can’t do more in a day. I think that’s really an issue with your attitude. And you should fix that. So here are a few recommendations:
Relax, they’re not that serious, your problems. And you shouldn’t think of them as such.
Try to do better, if only for a day. And then tomorrow you’ll find: your day is better for the work you put in to be better the prior day. And so on and so forth. There’s a kind of alluvial effect to doing better stuff wherein successive days are better because you made them so.
Alluvial is a big word and perhaps you’re not familiar. It is in reference to alluvium: a deposit of clay, silt, sand, and gravel left by flowing streams in a river valley or delta, typically producing fertile soil. What I’m trying to say is: do good at life and things will continue to be better. But just know that the things that happen in your life are wholly within your control. So if things are feeling bad, it is your fault. Remember: external inputs don’t matter and you have a faulty perspective if you think they do.
It’s kind of hard to describe but I just... I wish you could do stuff the way I do it. Because things work out for me. Some might say: privilege? Those people don’t understand just how hard I worked on this book. I barely had time for my tabs. But in the end, I made time. Because I am disciplined. I wish you could be as disciplined as me. I wish you could be as good as me. Probably never going to happen! If I could make a wish for this world it would be that you could be as good as me. But wishes? Don’t even bother. Just do be.
Chapter 8:
Desire. It’s the thing that drives us. The thing that lights our fire. The thing that makes us feel passion. The thing that makes us want to do things for ourselves. The thing that we’re most desirous of.
I just wanted to mention that. Because it’s a big part of life. But how do we access our deepest desires? I’m not exactly sure.
Chapter 9:
I’ll get to this later. It’s the crux of the book so it requires a lot of consideration.
Chapter 10:
I recently went to the New York museum of Modern Art. In New York. City. I live in New York and it makes me interesting, that fact.
So as I was saying, I was at the MOMA (which is the acronym assigned to that particular museum, for brevity and so that Big Apple natives can signal to one another: I get it and I’m interesting, just like you). I was in the design section of the museum which always feels like: what the fuck are we even doing here? And that day was no different: there in the museum on display: a spotlight on banal designs. Like, there was a whole display devoted to brown paper bags. Another to post-its. Another to Crocs. And I was like: what even is art?
Well so, if you recall, back in chapter 2, I mentioned that in this chapter I would discuss the artistic process. For me, it’s simple. I am currently sitting on the couch while the TV is on in the background. But an important thing to note, methodologically: it’s best if the background television consists of reruns so that you’re not totally in rapt attention. Otherwise the day will go by and you’ll think: all I did was watch TV. I didn’t write one of the most important books of the 21st century. Couldn’t be me, because, as aforementioned, I made a different choice.
Second thing for artistry: recall in the paragraph before this one I raised the question of what is art even is? Art is whatever you think it is and whatever you want it to be. The only limitation is your imagination. For instance, recall how I mentioned that elevators can go into space because of counterweights? That is emphatically not backed up by science. But you bought my clumsy explanation! This is because you’re undereducated but moreover because of my clever combination of imagination and subterfuge. Roy Cohn personally taught me: it’s ok to lie in this way. He taught me this in 1976. He died a mere 10 years later. Life can be so unpredictable that way. Don’t take it for granted.
Chapter 11:
Regrets? I’ve had a few.
BRB Fedex just buzzed my door and I need to let them in.
Chapter 12:
This book, by the way, is about relationships. It’s about the universal lessons that come from love and loss. It’s about communication. It’s about how to manage conflict. It has specific information in regards to matters of trust, identity, sex, romance, friendship. It is a roadmap for how to love others but, moreover, how to love yourself. Because loving yourself comes first.
In the second volume, there is also vital information about consumer finance, project management, probate law, information security, and home repair. So if you want that, you should pre-order that next book. Susan Orlean calls it “a landmark achievement: perhaps the most important book ever written about probate law.”
Chapter 13:
Whew! That was a ride wasn’t it? I am sleepy. It might even be naptime. I require an 18 minute nap most days. It just makes me feel better. It’s so weird how much the human body can reenergize in 18 minutes. “to sleep—To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!” Shakespeare said that. And he was right. About most things. For more information, read: Twelfth Night.
Chapter 14:
And there you have it! So you’re probably thinking: so much wisdom packed into one book? I know. It strains credulity. But I swear: these things happened, and alls I did next was write them down and, well, that brings us to the present day. And what happens next? Well that’s the best part of life: I don’t exactly know. But whatever it is, it will be good. Because sometimes when things happen, they’re good things. Sometimes bad too. But it’s all about making lemonade out of lemons. That is an aphorism I just came up with and I recommend you use it whenever you’re unable to see the silver lining of a cloud <--- another aphorism I just came up with.
Acknowledgements:
I want to first and foremost thank my agent for securing me a hefty advance for this book. I want to thank my publisher for making this a presumptive bestseller. I would also like to thank Sony Pictures for buying the underlying media rights to this book and giving me 20% of backend such that the resulting film adaptation confers untold riches. I’m so glad I wrote this book. I had fun!