On Turning 30

Written in a frenzy the morning of my 30th birthday while I sat freezing my ass off in an airstream in the West Texas Desert in mid-January.

30 today. I've spent the last few days in in the West Texas Desert, because I was determined not to enter this new decade in the claustrophobia of the Hill Country. The last night of my twenties I went to the only dive bar in town where the bartender coaxed me onto the swing on the back porch, and told me about how when he turned 30 he bought a vintage motorcycle (without knowing how to ride one) and managed to drive it all the way from Austin to Marfa without getting stopped. Prior to this little adventure I bought a John Lurie print to celebrate this new milestone (it's currently being framed), I've been meditating on and coming to terms with my past, I've been thinking about those who have influenced me over the years (in both positive and negative ways), and I've got some things to say. . .

I’m a big introverted contradiction in that I love people, but only in small doses and under the right circumstances. Everyone I’ve met here has told me that their thirties have been the best. That’s the only advice I will be taking into this new decade. My twenties were filled with the most cliche unsolicited bullshit people could muster. In my youthful stupidity I took some of it seriously, and it completely fucked with the fundamental ideals I had about who I was, and the person I wanted to become. I'm not open to it anymore, and while some of this "advice" might've been given under the guise of good intentions, the body language that accompanied it would heavily suggest otherwise as well as the frequency in which it came out of the mouths of certain individuals and the opportunities they chose to give it. I don't know if I should let you in on this little secret, but beware of shy, empathic introverts, because the body language of others usually tells us all we need to know about certain people. Bad auras tend to shine in this way, and you can't hide them from the universe. . .

I firmly believe that we are all made up of the things that we are exposed to throughout our lives. Some of it accidental, and some of it not so much. Whether that be people, art, books, music, movies, food, places, etc. . .it doesn't matter, and it makes us better humans for it. . . that is, as long as we're open to how it all can shape and change us. As someone who has constantly found her environment emotionally combative and hindering, I have often turned to artists for some life guidance. I hate to think of the person I'd be without that . . . Which brings me to a couple of former junkies who influenced my late twenties. Although, both of these men are far more than their past addictions. . .

Bourdain: He’s always had his fair share of significance to me over the years. The fall of the year I turned 20 I had a panic attack that was so bad it left me with a subtle form of suicidal ideation that manifested itself in reckless behavior and self-sabotage. When Bourdain took his own life in 2018 I wasn’t shocked. I was crestfallen. Mental illness just ate him up. . . just like that. If Bourdain couldn't make it, it was certainly going to continue to kick my ass into the grave until I actively started taking advantage of more opportunities to help deal with it. I attempted to be more mindful of my actions. I tried to allow more room for personal growth, and for making mistakes. I took a step back from people and situations that were making me miserable. I acknowledged that suicidal ideation that had been haunting me for years, and made it clear to myself that it would no longer reside in the dark recesses of my mind. I was throwing it out. That part of my self-hatred was done. To me, Bourdain embodied inner growth and learning how to be a better person. He wasn't just someone who advised you to do it, he practiced it as well, and not always successfully. Failure will make an appearance anywhere, and I dealt with my own fair share of it even after this little moment of enlightenment. There's no shame in that.

Lurie: My road to Lurie is a bit serendipitous. He kept popping up in unexpected places associated with things I loved. (If the situation had been different, had happened in “real life”, and Lurie was a few decades younger I probably would’ve married him on the spot). It seemed only natural that Bourdain would pass the torch to the last person he had a meal with on Parts Unknown. A new HBO Show and a memoir published in 2021 allowed me to dive right into Lurie, and the universe was telling me he had some things to teach me. He’s a man of many talents, and is best experienced in all mediums that he’s chosen to create in. In his memoir Lurie takes you on the trajectory of his life as it sends him from his childhood in Worcester, Massachusetts, losing his father at seventeen, the almost divine way an alto sax was placed in his hands as a teen, a move to the wild west wasteland of New York City in the mid-70s, sax practice, the forming of the avant-garde jazz band the Lounge Lizards, doing heroin for the first time with Debbie Harry, dopesickness (lots of it, as well as the use of a few other drugs), trying to reach God through music, touring, becoming a reluctant actor, the perils of fame, composing for films, developing chronic Lyme Disease (which neurological effects have caused him to put down his sax for good these days), and finally to finding another primary artistic avenue in painting, which he now does on some secluded Caribbean island. Written in a conversational style, he manages to show the reader all of the ambition, sensitivity, vulnerability, loss, love, generosity, and laughter that has defined his life. I don't know about you, but I don't know many grown ass men genuinely willing to admit when their feelings are hurt, or when they were in the wrong and then work toward changing their behavior. Yeah, hindsight is 20/20, but that doesn't mean you'll always find the person looking back willing to admit to their failure and bad behavior. To me Lurie is the epitome of the idea that if you just be yourself and do what you want, then the right people will take notice. The Lounge Lizards never got the record deal they deserved (the producers had no idea what genre to put them under in stores, even when the band was selling out venues), and he has freely admitted that the art world hates him. Yet that hasn't stopped him from selling his work to those that really appreciate it with the help of social media. (Why do you think I had to get my hands on a limited print?) He has admirably and continually created despite setbacks. In his memoir, Lurie touches on the importance of surrounding yourself with "real" real people, or people with heart. I imagine that's where a lot of Lurie's own light comes from, because it was that inner light, coupled with a little silliness and a sly smile, that drew me into his world in the first place. It was so refreshing to feel like a generational divide was filled by someone who's not some out-of-touch asshole giving me unsolicited advice. We really have inherited a world full of bullshit, so it's nice to receive some kind of guidance from someone who isn't afraid to acknowledge that.

While I'm not entirely sure what I want because I'm still learning and relearning who I am, I do know what I don't want and there's plenty of power in that. From now on I will be doing my best to try and live for the version of me that exists today, for all the iterations of me in the past, the ones that never got to be, and the ones that will be.