Couple weeks ago, my sister called me up. She said: wanna go to a movie? On me?

I said: Uhh, yeah.

So we went to see Skyfall, the newest Bond, in which 007 again performs incredible feats of daring and romance while keeping intact his Tom Ford suit and dark wit.

Also (this was at Cinetopia, the most luxurious movie theater in the galaxy), she got us popcorn, fries, and Caesar salad, and we watched some really good trailers, including one for a Tom Cruise film that looks as if there will be many broken bones, yet apparently is squeaking by with a PG13. Anyway. Skyfall was a magnificent experience, and it was not my birthday. It was just another ordinary day made extra.

Leanna, early- to mid-1980s

Walked into my classroom last Monday and a student brought a latte up to me: "Your sister left this for you."

Lanessa, June 2000 (4.5 years old)

This is the amazing part: this was a different sister. A totally different one. And it was the third time this year that she has pulled a stunt like that. Brought me coffee at school, and it has happened on the most perfect mornings when my eyes were bleary from being a semi-successful media mogul working many late nights and getting up too early to also help educate young minds.

If you have done the math, you may have counted two. Two sisters. Not one. Two. Which leads me to a few pieces of life advice:

1. Drink a lot of water every day. Try adding some lemon.
2. Listen to a lot of music every day. Work in some Rachmaninov and Mates of State.
3. Give people your attention when they're talking to you.
4. Try to get two sisters like the ones above (these ones are not available as sisters).
As a rule, I find the pursuit of perfection better left to folks like Michelangelo and Usain Bolt. It's more challenging to find adventure when you're doggedly on a single path with horsey flaps over your eyes. Probably a good thing sometimes. I have so much more fun though pursuing the ecstatic messiness of falling and failing.

So perfection is like a casual perk that falls into your lap once in a while, like a couple sisters who are perfect - not perfect in an absolute sense as human beings, because, for example, one of my sisters forgets to charge her phone every night - but perfect for me, in a relative sense, with their role as my siblings, in which they treat me to pleasant treats and hug big.

Also, other bits of perfection that I have accidentally discovered are the enchiladas of Micael Serrano, the cardamom bread of Matt Westermeyer, and the drumming of Fabrizio Moretti, the Strokes percussionist. On the title track of their 2001 debut Is This It, his robot-with-a-heart drumming lugs the droll song along like a split cupcake of Anthem and Ballad. Perfection. Greatest Song Ever. Definitely.

November 2006

I wonder what today would be like if I had a third sister?

The Strokes
Is This It
Is This It

1 comment:

  1. Dear Josef,

    I really like the ecstatic messiness of falling. It's fun. The failing part isn't as much fun sometimes, but I'll take it once and awhile. It builds character.

    I concur with numbers 1 - 3. I have at least one perfect-for-me Sister, which is marvelous (even if she hasn't gotten me coffee recently). And some simply amazing SIL's. I recommend those, too.

    Also, I think it's a good thing you have only the Two sisters that you do. They would be really really hard to live up to. I think, anyway. It sounds like they probably sort of really like you.




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