The

“…What do you truly want?” saga rages on…

Look- I realized that going out at the end of the year is utter malarkey a long time ago … it’s a sham and a scam lol, I tell ya!

…but nothing exists in a vacuum lol.

& that limbic space between what you’ve grown out of and the Baye you’ve nurtured yourself into can go on and on like the valley of the shadow of death.

But it’s not just about finding how you want to End a year. I discovered and nailed that long ago and it made the releasing the partying for “something more” spectacular.

…Cashmere legwarmers and not much else in front of a roaring fire after blowing bubbles up into an inky sky to send off 2023, vibing to some locally sourced jazz was the equivalent of Luxardo cherries on top of an already decadent display of season’s greetings and blessings galore…

But I had no idea what else was in store on the far side of that particular Sunday.

Okay- I kinda did because my Christmas gift from another client was a New year’s surprise request that perfectly lined up with the climax of the cliffs.

But everything is syntax ….and God is always in the details.

I hadn’t realized that my missing component was leaning into being happy it was officially a new era(even though March stiiiiilllll rings viscerally more true to…).

Enduring entering a new year with a fucking hangover after making yourself get dressed up to go someplace you were only half-hyped to go, surrounded by God knows what… doesn’t bode well for the coming year, no matter how we’ve been programmed to believe to the contrary.

What I craved…was how sequins make my fashist ass feel…in the daylight.

So I started the year in a slinky black sequinned number with a galloping Falcor dawg on the heights… and just fn leaned in from there.

I’d followed my gut and left some bouillabaisse and freshly baked bread for Falcor’s kin, + enough excess readymade from my bison tacos of yore to have nosh upon arrival, unable to imagine somebody not getting thwacked with altitude sickness, and headed out into…

PERFECTION.

It started with a straight shot from my Hind’s feet, high places perch in the Huntington section of the Palisades to downtown on the subway in just under an hour, like LA has wholly embraced the cosmopolitan badassery of having such ease on offer for her constituents.

Arriving a bewildering 30 minutes earlier than the½ hr before go-time I had planned, I dropped my satchel with the concierge down the road from the Tower of 2020 and found myself surrounded by a throb that hit my bones like hallelujah in the balmy bunker hill sun soaked daylight.

Scribbling my way into the future over an already handled latte, I basked in the afterglow daytripper energy undulating languidly all around me, happily chatted up in every direction.

The deejay spun a sexy set that was full blown optimistic. The new year gleamed like burnished bronze…and we were all out in it, ready for all the good destined to come.

We were having so much fun that people who’d been waiting for tables to open waved them away to keepchilling in sunspots and before I was rightly gathered I’d been given a bloody ( my first in a decade- and good-) with its health benefits lauded left and right as the perfect preamble to whatever joyful chaos awaited revelers down the road.

It was so relaxing talking strategy for entering the year ready to play with grown assed folks.

I couldn’t wait to hunker down and geterdone.

& the best part?

Getting back from groceries to howls of

“Omg! You’re amazing! How did you know! My youngest came back sick! We came back starving! Everything is so good! Thank you!”

They blessed the Fuck outta me last year🤗. Was happy I’d listened.

I happily loved on them …in the same key (& with the same menu) that retreat allowed me to love on me in at the culmination of 2023. & you know the old saying:

There’s no such thing as leftovers when the food was made with love in the first place.

It’s not just ending the year with love… it’s beginning it with a Authentic beat.