"Can I tell you a secret?" someone asks me, and as it turns out, it's a secret I'm happy to know, because this isn't just a secret -- it's a compliment. Oh, and it's a lovely one: flattering and untrue, anonymous and unsolicited. I take off my cardigan. The compliment keeps me warm the rest of the night in the drafty loft apartment as I dance and talk, beverage in hand.
I've got high hopes for you, 2008.