It’s OK to admit Donald Trump is not who you hoped he would be as president. It’s not a knock against you, personally. To continue to support him unabashedly, however, that says everything.
Jay McInerney’s first novel was a literary Bat-signal, and the rungs on the ladder seemed to be stepping stones; I was on my way to challenging Pete Hamill. Instead, I walked away at 47.
It’s been five years since I danced with the devil by the pale moonlight. Since that time, I have pushed the limits of the doctors’ warnings. Today, I relent. Here’s to life – yours and mine.
It’s unnerving to lose yourself. Now, I’m back. For better or worse, I believe in … me, again. So, here I am, miles from where I left but home, finally – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.