![]() ![]() “We can choose to live and learn or we can just continue to preoccupy ourselves with distractions and repetitive sorrow. And not making it so deep that people don’t understand it, having fucking fun and enjoying it.” ![]() And I’d like more of it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s really about being connected to what you’re doing. At his most emphatic, he punctuates his sentences with a soft clap. He’s charmingly aware of this: just when his conversation feels polished to a high shine, he likes to run it through the mud a little bit, finishing a thoughtful, articulate paragraph with a fusillade of expletives. “My priorities have changed.” At 37, Usher speaks with the easy confidence of one who’s grown up in the public eye. “I’m in a very expressive place,” he tells me. He inhabits it lightly: cologne in the air, a white coat slung over a chair, a bowl of lemons on the counter. We’re in his suite at the Greenwich Hotel, which boasts enormous slanted windows, a stone fireplace, and an abundance of wood paneling. Once Scarlett’s settled, Usher joins me on the couch. “Come here, Scarlett, come here,” he says. Her affections so disarm me that I don’t notice Usher descending the stairs. The singer donated $12,000 to take her home after a charity auction a few years ago, which makes her easily the most deluxe animal ever to lick me-my own net worth seems to rise by affiliation. Scarlett is Usher’s dog, a Goldendoodle with a lustrous, coppery coat and a probing nose. I’m reclining on a leather couch with Scarlett’s tongue in my mouth. After three decades in the limelight the R&B superstar is exploring new avenues ![]()
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