Some Habits You Don’t Kick

At some point I stopped counting how many times I’d seen Miley Cyrus naked and accepted it as a feature of living in this particular cultural moment. It’s not a complaint. If anything it’s closer to gratitude. The woman is physically extraordinary and seems entirely at peace with everyone knowing it—a rare combination and one I have no interest in arguing against.

She’s done it again for Plastik Magazine, shot by Vijat Mohindra, who has previous form with this sort of thing—Selena Gomez, Rihanna, Lindsay Lohan, whom I still love, the full roster of women I would rearrange my schedule for. Miley shares the spread with Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips, which is a pairing I didn’t see coming but which makes its own deranged sense once you know their history together. Coyne gets points just for proximity.

I’ve thought seriously, more than once, about how much of my productive life I’d sacrifice to spend an indefinite period looking at these photographs. The answer keeps getting more embarrassing. But that’s fine. Some obsessions are just honest responses to something genuinely worth obsessing over, and performing indifference about Miley Cyrus naked in a magazine isn’t something I’m willing to do.