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1. Run away to Brooklyn. Rent an apartment with a claw footed
bathtub. Commute to Manhattan during the week and put in hours at a
menial publishing job. Drive home to New Jersey on weekends to swim in
the pool and cry to your mother. Smoke Gauloises on the fire escape. Let
yellowing issues of Rolling Stone and Vogue pile into a protective
fortress around your bed. Listen to Cat Power. Fall asleep mostly naked
beneath the duvet watching Sportscenter and drinking earl grey. Date a
Yankees fan and kiss his hands on the 4 Train into the Bronx.
2. Run away to Barcelona. Eat milk chocolate magnum bars and drink
cheap champagne. Burst into charming fits of laughter whenever you get
embarrassed about butchering the Catalan language. Wear denim cutoffs,
Dr. Pepper chapstick, and very little else. Go dancing at 3 a.m. Whiten
your teeth. Tan your shoulders. Braid feathers into your hair.
Perpetually wake up with sand caught in the thin cotton sheets of your
tiny bed. Listen to the Rolling Stones and kiss all the longhaired boys
you can get your hands on without ever having to apologize.
3. Run away to Los Angeles. Sublet a studio in Venice three blocks
from the beach. Listen to top 40 radio. Go to Chateau Marmont and charge
drinks you can’t afford to a long-dormant credit card. Sleep with a
television actor who lives in the valley. Sleep with a musician who
lives in Bel Air. Break things off with both of them when gas prices
begin to rise. Find Gilda Radner’s star on the Walk Of Fame and swallow a
sob when you see the filthy cement around her name is cracked. Walk
through the Venice Canals until the sun sets and you forget your own
name. Call your mother crying from the parking lot of a 24-hour Ralph’s
supermarket. Tell her you want to come home.
4. Run away to Paris. Gaze at the pink and pistachio glow of macarons
in the window on Boulevard Saint-Germain. Listen to Joni Mitchell. Meet
an Argentinean man in the Latin Quarter for drinks. Melt into his
accent and kiss him goodnight, but return to your apartment alone
because his face doesn’t look enough like the man’s you are trying to
forget. Get lost in the Richelieu Wing of the Louvre, admiring
Napoleon’s fine red damask. Walk alone along the Seine in an old dress,
ten-dollar shoes, and an Hermes scarf. Fumble with the locks on the
fence overlooking the river. They all have lovers’ names etched into
them and the girl who left the red heart-shaped lock has the same name
as you.
5. Run away to Martha’s Vineyard. Write heartbroken stories during
the day in front of a large fan that blows curls of humid hair across
your tired face. Take a waitress job at The Black Dog at night and try
hard not to drop too many trays. Learn to ride a moped. Pretend you’re a
Kennedy. Listen to Carly Simon. Eat hand-churned ice cream out of
waffle cones. Visit the flying horses and consider how many girls just
like you have sat on the same horse clutching for the same brass ring.
Get stoned and dance barefoot down the length of the eroded Jaws beach.
Date a Red Sox fan. Yell at each other during baseball games, and then
kiss and make up between tangled sheets.
Inspiration to live life however I see fit.
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