Frankly, I think living to being 110 would b e a fucking drag. All your best friends died so long ago you can no longer remember their names. Your life would be filled with watching people die, die die and die again. people you loved -- all dead -- so long dead that even their descendants don't remember them.
Being immortal would be the ultimate curse; being even semi-immortal, as in surviving past 100 would be horrific.
Dead, dead, dead. That would be your entire life.
I'd rather live fast, in 80 years, and die young, say, 81.
I think this is supposed to be more of a "free-association" kind of narrative than an actual account of something that happened. I think part of her plugging in all those exotic city names and mixing New York in with it all was intended to give it an amazing "world-weary" tone.
What I find disappointing about the piece is actually more the lack of any kind of denouement, no kind of "message" or revelation of well, some REVELATION other than, "I got a tattoo, and this time I really think it means something. But I really can't explain why. However, if I slip in some obscure musician's name that practically no one has ever heard of, it will seem as if I am hipper than a lot of other people, because only truly hip people listen to obscure music and shuffle mindlessly to trendy destinations, then get drunk and decided to have tattoos."
The only thing missing that would truly have made this article a lot hipper is her not mentioning "planking" anywhere in it.