"Idealism without consequences is the pathetic dream of every spoiled brat, I suppose."
Ottessa Moshfegh, Eileen
My days in New York varied between an impersonation of Adam Samberg in "It's a Great Day", high on the American dream (I meant scheme), with a very heavy comedown, and Gene Kelly singing in the rain.
Nothing could stand in the way of the gilded illusions I built for myself. No matter how heavy the storm, I weathered it with unwavering optimism.
My first year in New York was almost manic, a series of booms and busts, even though I can't lie, it always felt like mercury was in retrograde with my dreams (or delusions), whatever you want to call them, in full force against it's gravity.
Some mornings the city streets glistened and sometimes I looked up at the heavy cranes, and felt, down.
It was hard not to bemoan the constant drilling (something was always going up or being torn down), the honking, the mountains on mountains of garbage on the street- "I love trash"-the twenty dollar salad, the L-pocalypse, the astronomical rent.
And my bad days in New York were really really bad! I mean really bad!
One February night- its like fifteen degrees- and all in a matter of thirty seconds I would slip on ice, my grocery bags ripped and spilled, there went my ten dollar raspberries and hot deli plate Jonny from Brooklyn Fare just whipped up for me.
There went my brand new air pods I just got for Christmas- flying into the street where, still on my ass, I'd watch a truck run over them!
All bruised, I limped all the way home only to realize that fiasco would be topped: I had left my apartment keys at work. So I limped all the way back to work without my air pods, mind you,- just the sound of the cackling wind icing my face.
(When I got into my office I may or may not have stuck my entire fist into the candy lotto).
I deserved it.
I told my boss about what happened he next morning and he nodded it off as if it happened to everyone regularly or something.
So you slipped on ice boohoo. Everyone here is bruised but still open for business.
New York was always moving a million miles an hour, waiting for no one, pacing and darting unapologetically, and a lot of the time I felt like I was running on empty, hyperventilating.
But I had to be part of the rat race because, like some sort of Stockholm syndrome, I was sucked under by its trap of pipe schemes! OOoga-chaka-Oooga- Oooga Hooked on a feeling!
The cover of Steely Dan's 1976 The Royal Scam
(hits the snooze button)
The city was both gritty and glamorous to me and in the words of the great Le Corbusier "a beautiful catastrophe".
I was grateful to be a part of it all. The city was a melting pot of eccentric personalities. It moved to a kaleidoscopic rhythm, it teemed with avant garde. My whole life I had felt boxed by suburban fences but here I felt free- free to be myself.
The mean streets were cloaked with gold by the dreamers that walked them, and colored with chaos by the artists that lived in its corners.
New York- a spell inducing, Gatsby sized Billboard. On it -Joe Camel. New York is "Mighty Tasty", in small text (viewer discretion is advised, side effects may include depression, mania, grandiose delusion). But come on over!!
Abandon that lazy fucking river and come tumble through the rapids. Your out there doing knee pushups over there in bumf*** nowhere- you loser!
New York City- a real life casino-betting dreams-its players seekers, skeevers, snakes, and scam artists.
But as with any game of poker comes the possibility of becoming duped. Average ROI- probably two percent- the city holds so much promise!
(Alarm Clock Rings)
Part 2: New York: A State of mind or Figment of the Imagination
By the time I hit my one year mark I like many New York neophytes was just slightly- disillusioned.
New York had broken me in good.
I had become Marla from Fight Club. I always dressed for my funeral, I invested in giant sunglasses to disguise my eye- bags. (I did not attend the weekly cancer circle!)
I also became the unbecoming Tyler Durden (you know the one played by Edward Norton). "I was never really asleep, but I was never really awake".
In New York fight or flight always in full gear!
I exclusively walked at a running speed. Skip-walking: an essential New York lexicon. Everyone's always chasing something!
There really is nothing more pathetic in New York than not looking busy.
Gotta Go!
Ask any New Yorker if you're walking slow you might as well be dead. You clearly have nothing to live for. (My Grandpa Forman did always say "it's the quick or the dead"- I guess it's deeply engrained within me).
Can you jay gracefully? Can you hail a cab in under 20 seconds? Can you get through your entire commute without making any eye contact?
[Lowers dark sunglasses]
Excuse me, what is the heaviest concealer you carry?
I posted this on IG last summer..that week could have been...BETTER!
My very dramatic point is, my first year in New York woke me the f*** up! The city I had rhapsodized in my mind rose to a screeching pitch, but not a deafening one, an awakening one.
I realized the lure of New York is in its sustained grit- its unrelenting stamina- that Gatsby sized billboard-its the Fuhgeddabaoutdit sign.
New York will inevitably knock you down (and knock you up) but the beauty in that is that you are called to rise! "Color my life with the chaos of trouble cuz anythings better than posh isolation". Yeah New York is unrelenting but at least it's not boring. Nobody ever called it that.
The advertised New York-ok yeah thats a fantasy-but the real New York- it's better-it's the friend you need-nothing short of brutally blunt. It talks back!
When it comes to molding your character it pays in spades. So maybe it's not so much of an abusive relationship as it is- tough love!
New York outwits everyone but it also cracks some pretty good jokes!
Long story short, the city kind of upended me, but i'm better for it. And I'll be back to spin the wheel again!
