///////Day 2: Be a singer. Get a mortgage. Do something terribly, gloriously wrong and love every second of it. Move to China. Say exactly what I think every time someone says, “It is what it is.” Lie to myself with full awareness. Go on a Vipassana retreat. Ride across Africa on horseback. Kill myself. Tattoo my face. Spend a week living with a monkey family and cheat. Be a prostitute—with help and mattresses. Tear my life apart and start over. Move to China again. Get another mortgage. Do a backflip. Be no one. Be someone, because I have to. Quit dance and eat a rat. Do nothing. Be no one. Switch from train to train to train. Be radically, proudly, unsentimentally a prostitute. Kill. Fail and wear it like a medal. Say what I really think.Day 2: I wouldn’t dare...///////////

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