April 7, 2010

There was a time a few years back when I voraciously collected, obtained, and was given books. So many books! I'd become addicted to eBay I think. I loved having a package waiting for me daily. I loved finding something used and under $10. And I love collecting. I read one book and suddenly I buy the author's back catalog. I see a movie, hear a song which lead me to eBay, where I bought books. I filled both city apartment and upstate house with books. I'd read two books at once, one I left bedside upstate and another I'd read in the city.

I own more books than I'd read. I doubt I could read them all in this lifetime. Doesn't stop me from buying them. I like having them.

A friend, who in the past year or so I've basically lost contact with, had given me the book D.V. by Diana Vreeland. The book is inscribed 12/24/06 "Dearest Bradford, Thank you for enrolling in my course, religion 101; here is your text." A previous owner had inscribed it too: 6/8/84 "No reason 'cept friends."

It sat for the longest time upstate where I preferred to read scarier books and where I often dozed off a few pages into the story. Usually the wine knocked me out.

After Ben and I broke up I removed many of my more personal objects from the house including all my books. Finally, last week, I picked up D.V. and began reading. It is my kind of book. Filled with name dropping and gossip, sprinkled with history and critiques on the styles of the time, and with a peek into the mind of a ridiculous eccentric, D.V. provides many a rule to live by. Many I subscribe to already. Like this gem, a question asked to her:

"Is hard, no? Is hard to stay alive, don't you think?"

To which Ms. Vreeland responds:

"No, not really--not if you stay busy, not if you stay interested, not if you keep discipline, not if you keep the rhythm . . . But I do think any form of rhythm is absolutely essential. I mean, we are a physical people, we do count on action, mood, and the wit of the body and so on to survive, don't we?

How I live my life summed up in the pages of a high-society, fashion editor's 1980's memoirs. Of course.

The same week I met Georgi at 9PM and dined at Blue Hill in the Village. We drank a lovely bottle of Oregonian Zin and feasted on a 4-course meal. Ben Stiller was also dining in the room. We talked with the table next to us, a husband and wife from California. The husband, born in Hungary, asked Georgi to speak in Bulgarian. He obliged. And then collectively we all agreed my Baltimore accent was the stranger of the two.

It was remarkable for me to sit there in that still, peaceful dining room. 365 days prior my world had nosedived and plunged headfirst into unknown. A year later I am on top of the world. A promising new career coupled by success on many levels has made me confident, almost invincible. My sweet, precious love glows at all times. Chaos has been replaced with peace. Boredom with excitement. Uneasiness with steadiness.

Georgi and I walked home. Laughed. Giggled. We walked in pace up Sixth Avenue. Keeping time with each other's feet, darting eyes, and smiles. It's tremendous being in love in the eye of the storm. It is more wondrous feeling those same highs when the wind has stopped and silence surrounds.

As Ms. Vreeland says "There's only one thing in life, and that's the continual renewal of inspiration."

And when you're in love like I am it's really quite easy. Renewed. Restored. Inspired. By the simplest things. By everything.