Good morning, Monday. It's insanely gorgeous outside and like magic I feel my energy shifting to a place of height- was easy to get up this am and go to the gym with the sun shining and the warm air breezing in through my open window. I never quite realized how much Miami affected my energy level, in a good way. Though I schvitzed like crazy there, the endless sunshine and bright days absolutely gave me a boost. Happy it's turning lovely here in the city, even though winter was no biggie.
Anyway, I wanted to share some thoughts on being back here in the city. It's all I wanted for a million years and though I love it, this city can and will kick your ass. Daily.
The deal with New York is that it's a bit of a manic existence- good days are GREAT and bad days are TERRIBLE. Since I have dedicated this latest version of my life to freelancing, an admittedly manic existence in its own right (the ups and downs of working, then not working, then working, etc.), I am wondering if they can pump some lithium into my apartment with all of that sordid radiator heat. It's not an easy place to live, this city- everybody is hyper intense and wound up and ambitious and aggressive and most of all, close. What I mean by that is sometimes, at 8 am in the morning, I don't want some guy's manhood up against my back, but the train may be so crowded that colliding with stranger's body parts is almost inevitable. I often decide to take a car into the city if I need to, because, as I like to put it, the subway at times is a little "too much humanity" for me. Ok way too much.
The city is like that- there's great comfort in never being alone, but there's also an at times debilitating sense of too many people, too close to your personal space, and too close when you need people to get the hell away. New York is yin. It's yang. It's everything and nothing at all. The other day, David woke up and asked me "so, what do you think of being back here?" "Meh" I answered back between sips of coffee. Just "meh".
I know this is surprising to some because I've always idealized this place, but New York is not perfect, and somehow I forgot that amidst my fantasies back in Miami when nothing made sense to me. I'm not so sure I'm as thrilled to be in the city, as I would like to be, though I am beyond psyched to be back in the Northeast, which I missed more than anything. I love being home, with seasons, the patina of old everywhere I look, and people who don't shoot guns in the air for major holidays. And lest you think I am having a bit of buyer's remorse being back in this crazy place, I give you this weekend.
Friday night we went to the insanely good Mile End deli in my neighborhood in Boerum Hill- and what followed was one of the best interpretations of Jewish food I have ever eaten. I can't recall having a sensation of eating food that was so inventive, yet so incredibly familiar. If you like Jewish food but want something new, you must go to there. I am not a big meat eater, but you know it's good stuff if I chow it down, and chow I did. And then some. And twas my first time trying poutine, that debauched deliciousness disguised as a mound of french fries covered with cheese curds and gravy that had me at first bite. So decadent and fabulous. A must stop.
Then Saturday David and I went to the St. Patty's Day parade on a whim- and I assure you that there is nada in the world that chokes me up more than a parade wandering up Fifth Avenue, with all the beautiful old buildings facing the park as a backdrop- how I love pomp and circumstance. Then we walked around the Upper East Side, a neighborhood though not particularly cool always makes me feel happy- 'twas my first neighborhood I lived in in the city many years ago and its elegance and grace as you leave Central Park and head east always make me want to channel Annie Hall. We made our way over to 2nd Avenue in the 70s, site of many Irish bars where people were enjoying themselves, and the firemen and cops on the streets were in full dress, looking dapper and lovely in honor of Danny Boy. Sure, I'm Jewish but I so missed St. Patrick's Day when I lived n Miami- the tradition is alive and well here in the Northeast and was so much fun.
That's the thing about New York that's a doozy- it's a tough place to live but the beauty and tradition and fun of it and the fact that you can eat Jewish food one night and watch a parade on one of the prettiest city streets in the world the next are what make it worth it. At times I struggle to remember why I am here, why I am not living in the country cooking organic food barefoot in my kitchen surrounded by pets and good art, but then I remember that this city still has something for me, in fact, it always has something to give me when I need it to.
Lately I've been prone to thinking that living in one's truth is the only way to live, and doing so can often be painful. Maybe our lives were somewhat easier in Miami, but that life was not true to who we are- and New York City, though painful, is a big part of my truth, and finding a way to settle into life here may not be easy, but it's worth it. I don’t' know that we'll be here forever (are we too old to live in New York City?) but I am embracing the sun shining on my deck outside in Brooklyn, and the world of possibilities outside my door whether I make a left or make a right. There's no place else like that, I assure you, or maybe every place has possibilities, just not quite as boundless as New York.
So with that, I leave you. New York, I'm still impressed by how often you give me chills and choke me up, but sometimes I need to find my sense of place here, and not fall victim to your manic charms. Cause that's what's up here comes the sun, it's alright kind of Monday in the 718, That lovely typography I posted above? Yea, that phrasing can either be ecstatic when things are good or rage filled when they ain't. That's just the way it is here. All the love and XO.
