Do you like to swim? To be underwater, sealed off from anything going on above the surface? I do. It calms, clears, energises, and focuses my mind, which is what I assume happens when people who meditate “get it right.” (I wouldn’t know. It’s never worked for me. Instead, I swim.) I used to do laps twice a week, for an hour at a time. I’d touch one wall, push off and glide through that whoosh of momentum, then propel myself forward until I got to the other wall. Back and forth like that, over and over. It’s like being in a cocoon. Do you know what I’m talking about?

It reminds me a little bit of putting your hands over your ears and humming: There’s the completely irrational thought that no one can hear you, and that you can hear yourself from the inside out. It’s not that you can hear your innermost thoughts — the silent ones — it’s that you can hear your innermost. In those moments, hands over ears or submerged in water, there is the illusion that your internal world — what’s going on inside your head — has converged with your physical space.

When I put my hood up, it may not stimulate the same sensory responses, but psychologically, for whatever reason, it has that effect of collapsing the internal and external. The hood becomes the extension of my head, and everything under that fabric, my reality. It’s like being curled up inside my own brain.

I had been travelling to that place — my cortical hammock — without sartorial assistance for years. Walking down the streets of New York City, an activity I enjoy almost as much as swimming, I rarely see people I know waving at me until they’re right up in my face. I’ve got some kind of imaginary scrim up that makes everyone look fuzzy. Wandering inside my head as I walk, I find songs playing, whether they’re piped through headphones or lodged into folds in my brain and pulled out at unexpected moments. Out on a mission, a stolen car mission/Had a little problem with the transmission. There are problems in the process of being solved, some my friends’ (should he quit his job? Where should she take her out-of-town maybe-boyfriend for dinner and why does he continue to insist on staying at a hotel? How should he deal with getting squeezed out by his business partners who are possibly engaged in illegal misconduct? Where should she pitch her story?); some my own (what if I think that story is lame but know how easily she will get it published? Is there a better way for her to do it? Yes. Should I tell her? Isn’t that HER job? Yes, I should stop doing her homework for her, but I enjoy doing it too much. I will try to stop. Why is my infuriating crush still unable to shit or get off the pot? Is it my fault? No. He is heartbreakingly sucky. I should find a new crush. I will focus on that, yes. But I can’t quit him. Why? Get it together. No crying on the street. I’ll think about it tomorrow.); some bigger than myself (How can freelance writers form a more perfect un-unionised union so people will stop exploiting us? Isn’t it odd that Donald Trump has gotten as far as he has in this election? It’s surprising no one has found a way to take him out. How would you do it? Blackmail? Assassination? Who would do it? The FBI? The CIA? Is there maybe a B613 like on Scandal? Probably. Someone, somewhere is plotting.); and some completely random (Someone needs to write a version of Lean In for creative types. Does the word “corny” have anything to do with corn? Has anyone tried making hot-honey gelato? The hot-honey people should start doing specific types of honey and matching them with specific types of chilli peppers. Has that happened yet? Probably. What will be the next tahini? Is it tamarind? Is there such a thing as sesame milk? That would be so good in my matcha latte. Instead of a story on how Middle Eastern food is trending, can someone write a story about WHY it’s trending and how that happened and the fact that all these chefs are going to Israel on sponsored trips? No one will assign that story. Have chefs started leading tours to their foreign regions of expertise yet? Not cruises. But if Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi were to organise a trip to see THEIR Jerusalem, that would be great. This is probably happening already, too.) Are you ready for this action/Does it give you satisfaction/Are you hip to what I'm sayin'/If you are then let's start swayin'. This may seem exhausting to you, but I enjoy most of it immensely.

So, yes, I can get into hood-mode hoodless, but I prefer to do it with the proper equipment.