The last three days I spent in New York were probably the best three days of my life. It's hard to explain why, but if you've been reading this blog for several years, thank you, and you know I went through some hard times, during which, I suppose one could say, I "fractured," and out of which, I found in New York, at the risk of sounding like someone who runs around like a hippie in fields, I felt whole. A long time ago, someone said something to the effect of wishing the worst thing possible on me, so that, I no longer recall, I could, I would say now, reformulate, and I suppose that is what has happened. So, thank you, universe, for totally destroying me. Those years I spent crawling across a bed of broken glass were worth it.
New York is my size. I would like to move there immediately. I just need a job in the city and the finances to make it happen, really. It isn't any more complicated than that. I would like to live in Brooklyn. The city itself is so very large, but being somewhat skyscraper-sized myself, it suits me. I've long had a long distance love affair with New York--my much idolized father grew up in Brooklyn, Flatbush to be exact, back when, you know, it was white. So, I've longed to be there. Now, I am ready. I'd like to make that happen by the end of the year.
I loved everything about being there. The view from the corner office, the bowels of the subway, the women in shock-colored dresses, the men in million dollar suits. I was walking by a park, and there was a tower being built, and I could see through the upward arcing limbs of the trees projected against the endless glass stories that this was Man at his height. My heart said: I am. I am. I am.
I saw Big Pussy.
While I was there, I met her and him and her. While we were all together, sitting near the floor in a place that was fabulous, he declared none of us could speak of what had happened when we were together. Something about the first rule of blog club. Oh, my heart shattered! The writer muted. All I can say is that it was an awesome roundabout, the likes of which I had not experienced previously, a Davos of haute-pervurists, really, and I loved every minute of it.
I took the subway yesterday, descended into those dirty, smelly steambaths, looked out across the rails, and thought: How odd that heaven looks so much like hell.
As a surprise, I met RKB, who I find endearing beyond explanation.
I worked. I walked. I ate terrific sushi that melted in my mouth like ice.
I met these nice headhunters. Allison Hemming is the object of my latest girl crush. I love chicks with balls. She has them in spades. At one point, she howled to someone else: "The way she writes about porn is MAGICAL." If she were a man, I would have married her.
When I left the city, I cried. Appropriate? Gay? Psychotic? You be the judge. I couldn't stop turning around to look at the skyline disappearing into the distance. I did not want to go. It broke my heart a bit. But when you fall in love, I suppose that's how it goes.
Flying out over the lights, I assembled the final chapter of my novel in my head. I'm not there yet. But I've got it in my sights.
