(I don’t know how to talk about this without sounding like a total D bag, so I’m hoping that that statement alone protects me from douchebagery.)
This week, I’ve been meeting with potential lawyers, for incorporation / for deals / for guidance. My career (I have a career!) is progressing, and mo money more problems, and it’s important that I protect myself legally and financially. All of the contenders have been so impressive: kind, smart, knowledgable, excited for me and about me, repping people like, I don’t know, like Speilberg, like Scorsese, like Tony Kushner. After the last meeting, I found myself swimming in a sea of parking validation tickets and indecision, so instead of deciding, I caught a wave straight into one of those mildly overpriced boutiques full of well made things that smell gently of berries and leather, where young Bekah never would have gone, and purchased for myself this fine and tiny leather satchel, as a girl with a lawyer should say Bye to her forever 21 purse that’ stuck full of gum from two years ago.