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07.26.04 - 8:07 p.m.
like blood needs plasma, i need new york:
(an ode to my favorite city)
i'm back in what i will heretofore refer to as my temporary home. i emphasize temporary, because i had a rendevous this weekend with my oldest and first lover, keeper of my secrets, guardian of my dreams, engine of my ambitions -- i'm crooning the perks of newyorkcity, of course. after i spent a few melancholic hours this morning missing her, i made peace with the truth that NYC IS always always always there for me - and so long as i hold fast to my belief that her bottomless cradle always has a place for me - i can survive even this humdrum. flat. soggy. grey. ithaca (i can't even bear to call ithaca an un-city any longer, since the moniker 'city' represents a vibrancy that this 10 miles of unreality will never achieve. thus, even if i affix the tongue-in-cheek prefix "un-" before this town, truth be told even a mythical "uncity" rates better than here.) like blood needs plasma, i need nyc. i need her to infuse me with thickening, filling, clarifying, energizing resurgence of life, determination, grit, bad ass ambition, hope, blissful arrival. my short 48 hour visit to nyc injected me with all of that and more. in fact, i felt so high on capturing pieces of her to carry back with me to ithaca that i started taking snap shots (i'm an amateur) of her raucous angles, her bold colonial, pre-war, steel and glass architectures that she's juxtaposed together with a 'fuckidon'tcarewhatyouthink' style. remarkable - nyc always fits - she just does. and i fit inside of her. what a thrill on sunday when a tourist asked me for directions - i had coffee in one hand, a bag of THREE new hipster genuine leather belts for $16 in the other, and i laughed aloud with pleasure to point this lost father and his family in the right direction... i've already written a full 11 pages about my weekend in my journal, all the important lessons my visit taught me. i wrote of my bursting pride in myself for successfully arranging and going through with date that i'd made online with a nj professor of creative writing. i've already decided that i don't with to be anything more than friends with her; but oh, i feel such guilty pleasure in retrospect that my weekend was in fact bigger than her. she was just one highlight among many many many others for me, so how could i be disappointed? she in fact played a role in a romantic script that i'd envisioned in years past, and replayed over and over in my mind, and finally materialized in real life this weekend. hmmm, what parts do i divulge? well, in the wisest words of my close sister-friend rach "okay, so i know you were hoping to get a piece of ass this weekend. but we all know that bad ass is WORSE than no ass at all!"HAHAHAHAHA! amen, sister! my sentiments exactly. and what felt so wonderful, in choosing not to go home with sweetmatch.com, and inadvertantly oversleeping on sunday so that we didn't go to the fleamarket as we'd tentatively planned (and which in hindsight, an idea that could not bore me more) , is that i felt absolutely no disillusionment, not less than, not unfulfilled for recognizing this match-up as a meet between very similar people more suited to be friends than lovers. let me qualify that previous statement: in sweetmatch.com i recognized a version of my FORMER self. she was reticient, shy, awkward, polite, inhibited, too focused on the brainy matters to let loose, be free, and enjoy bodily matters - being free to roam the upper west side, four square miles of lush centralparkforestry and to dance and sing aloud unself-consciously in the rays of unexpected sunshine. the signal that i'd changed and become a whole person rung loudly for me when sweetmatch.com started grilling me for my opinion on the last 20 books of great fiction she'd read. [and i felt sheepish that my head's been so stuck in theory and obscure 19th century fiction, i hadn't read any of those amazing titles.] no doubt, i love talking shop. i love talking literature. i love dissecting texts and explaining why toni morrison's love was better than paradise (although i disagree with her opinion) but i started to tune her out, and grew bored, even suffocated. who the hell wants to talk intellectual heady stuff when we could be discuss (or just stay quiet and enjoy) the outdoor city stimulations of every sense in my body - the smell of hotdogs french fries and beer, mixed in with fresh rain, musky african oils, wafts of mj, or the prickly turf of the summerstagearena on our bare feet (i noted that she didn't take off her shoes), or strive to touch the bouncing beach ball lobbing above the audiences heads during the concert. how could she not just stand up and shake her body and dance to the beat of the most amazing funky live music i've heard in ages, even if she didn't know the words? well, i sure did. danced on my feet for a least 2 hours! my new dating dealbreaker: if my next prospective lover feels too self-conscious to allow good music to electrify her, to intoxicate her, to get up, take off your shoes and jacket and dance in front of an intimate anonymous crowd of 100+ people -- and dance SOBER - intoxicated with the music, not drunk on alcohol or high on weed outta her mind - well, sorry but that can not be no lover of mine (amen!) the upshot though is that this date taught me so much more about myself, what makes me tick, what makes me hot, and also what i don't want in a mate. GAWD, the day began with so many ominous coincidences that i knew it would be a day to remember: like would you believe that as i looked out my window at around 7:30AM, i saw my very ex-lover and her kansan boyfriend walk right by my house. when such unexpected crossing of paths occurs, i always believe these crossings occur for a reason and that these instances represent some sign that i must listen too. (to understand the mixed emotions this sighting invoked, i need to add that said ex-lover notified me that she'd be inhabiting my uncity this summer and would get in touch with me to have a conversation about past misunderstandings and all the shit smushed into the forgotten since she left here like a bat outta hell promptly after graduation2003. her proposal occured weeks ago. i've written to her just once during that time; however, i've conditioned myself not to expect her to initiate this proposed meeting. why should i? why should she, for that matter? ) to be honest, i've never been a "let sleeping dogs lie" person, but rather a "let's get to the bottom of the truth, even if that truth blinds us dead" person regardless of that truth's stink and complication. in this case, i think i feel like well if we talk, fine. if we don't talk fine. if we talk next year or 5 years from now, fine. if we don't talk next year or 5, 10, 20 years ago, fine. i haven't lost sleep. haven't held my breath either. because, as i'll rant below, there are a TRILLION more issues to worry about (war, politics, famine, murder, global warming, poverty, etc...) in this apocalyptic world right now ( move on. better yet, live on. still, my first reaction at glimpsing them traipse by was sheer irritation. feeling a grouchy, "well, shit ayesha if you're not gonna contact me like you said you would, then stay offa my street. you go about your business, i'll go about mine. i know this overrated town is big enough for both of us." but that spike of annoyance dissipated a quickly as it struck. then, with the clearest eyes i've ever "seen" their relationship, the thought hit me: dang, they look so damn young. like i know they're both outta college and stuff, but i'd say maybe they looked like juniors in college tops (20-21ish). their casual wear + backpacks were big as they, which shaped my impression. and then i felt such sweet relief, as in thank GAWD,my twenties are behind me and yes, with that, i sort of disbelief that i never saw just how young she was all along. and her youth - in the end - was this factor that i struggled to wrap my head around. i'm not talking immaturity, i'm talking the age of experience. without offending anyone under 30 reading, i want to say that it's impossible to convince someone in their early twenties that say, the it doesn't matter when you graduate college, or it's okay if you have 5 different career starts before you figure out the one for you, or say this presidency sucks, but hell i've voted 2 more presidencies than you, and have the age-old gift - merely by LIVING longer, of a perspective that allows me to take life in more accepting stride. or on the flip side, at 30 years old i look back to teens and 20somethings so obsessed with their friggin' weight, calories, and numbers - and i can say i share that obsession, but helps me move beyond it is the perspective that FUCK there are just so many important issues that the WORLD must worry about - genocide in Sudan, 1000+ u.s. soldiers dying in iraq, homeless people who would use the same disposable bingefood/dietpill income to constitute one meal a day for even 10x as many people. i'm not being preachy, but speak from experience. you know, since i've reached 30years old, have had several jobs, been unemployed, been in school, then out of school, and back, so many panicks about money, survival, spending, the future just don't send me in a panic anymore - even i've been there already (been there as in life experiences include: being pickpocketed, being robbed (house broken into), being raped, being cheated on and lied to, applying to jobs/fellowships/internships and experiencing both acceptance and rejection, being hospitalized both voluntarily and involuntarily, being in treatment, nearly fainting on a public nyc street, enduring blatant racist name calling, racial profiling, being so penniless, that i've had to ask for money to buy a subway token home, being arrested and spending an evening in jail, attending the funerals, weddings, and birth showers of friends - at LEAST 35 ROOMMATES in my lifetime (since my first summerhighschool experience) and their parents). . i've met pulitizer, booker, and nobel prize winning authors. i've bought books published at major presses (randomhouse, picador, st. martin), written by friends who whispered to me their concepts for their novels back in our early 20s, or in one case (crystal) showed me the scrap of paper for "the new idea for a poem" she'd been working on. i've been inside KGB, CBGBs, the New Yorker's Editorial Office (when tinabrown was in vogue), in the Manhattan Research Library and the Schomburg Libraries in Harlem, I've been to every major NYC museum except the Historical Society, the Jewish Museum, and Museum of the Television and the Moving Image, I've been through every inch of central park from 59th C. Columbus Circle to 110th St. Morningside Heights . I've visited, dined, slept in, cleaned, helped move into and out of apartments of friends from West (WashintonHeights) to the East (the REAL spanish harlem), down to Chinatown, Little Italy, Battery Park, So Ho, Tribeca (my celeb spottings include - RichardGere, JoanRivers, ChristyTurlington,Gwenyth Paltrow), need i go on? after living and seeing so much first-hand, if not through the eyes of so many i've been in contact with - there's absolutely nothing i can't handle. all i've got to do is show up and then make the best of the situation, and i'm confident i'll land on my feet. c'est tout! ... which is what i did on this date saturday, july 24th - and to boot, i had the epiphany that, in fact, since i was born on jan 24th, then this saturday, 7/24 and NOT last june 24th, was in deed my 30 and 1/2 birthday!!!! yippee, i cruised over the hump of my 30th year of life. and after driving through nyc both ways (yum, it truly wasn't scary and next time I'M DRIVING -) - walking from 82nd - 69th West Side - Walking inadvertantly smake DAB in the center of the johnlennon's shrine, i avoided stepping on the rose, but stepped on the "IMAGINE" incraved in the memorial stone in strawberry fields(i swear, it wasn't intentional: just wasn't paying attention, forgive me!) walking through rumsey playfield - and remembering so so so so so many walks through the parks from every angle - NSEW in years past - then walking up museum mile, and again remembering my first voyage to the guggenheim (at 92nd street, all the way up from 23rd street - admittedly, i was an exercise freak at the time) - again, past the metropolitan museum and remembering that blissful x-mas office gift - a free one-year membership - which resulted in me just going up to sit before mark rothko paintings, writing in my journal, and feeling the fierce flaming red and orange colors rain down on me... oh GAWD, i can't recount so much in this space - we walked past the shakespeare garden just as the public theatres, much ado about nothing was seating folks, we walked by the museum of natural history (which i remember visiting at age 8 or 9, way back in 4th grade - and those lovely stone-filled pencils) - i remember i remember i remember and so, with sweetmatch. - on the one hand, yes, i was completely present, we spoke steadily from our lunch at ollies, through the concert, til she drove me to rach's in her subaru (gulp, i'd made a joke about ithacalesbians and their subarus, and she shows me her forester); and yet, while her company was okay, i felt so restrained because i sensed her holding back...and i just felt so damn ALIVE...how could she not be beaming wattages of energy - i just couldn't stop smiling with rememberances, and even though i gave her a walkingtour so to speak, because damn, i'd been down so many of these streets before: (oh, forgot to mention: for a time, i went to a nyc psychotherapist - woodyallen would appreciate the authenticating symbolism of that experience) - so, yes she was okay company, but the everyday din of my city, and walking by restaurants, delis, grocerystores, parks, SHOE stores, drycleaners, and bookstores, and so fuckingmanyvenues that i'd BEEN into (not just walked by, or seen, but made memories there before) was the better date - and i didn't even get to the even better evening time with rachandhernewbeau - i do regret that we didn't go up to her roof (she has a slammin' view of the eastriver and 4th of july fireworks) but i was sensible and took a cab to port authority to catch the bus home (yes, treated myself to a cab, i'm too old to walk cross town (although i could) or rush through the subway - also good fun - or, to reminisce about the impromptu conversations i struck up with EVERYONE, the st.marksplace vendors, the bobstlibrarynyubooksellers, the student photographer from whom i bought a sepia tone picture of avenue of the americas (another yawp - i've walked south towards the west4thstreet nyu stop by the pick up b-ball courts SO SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO MANY hundreds of times, i just had to buy a print.) ... well, on an upbeat note - as the cab driver drove me up 8th avenue towards portauthority, he asked me to marry him before he dropped me off. i wasn't creeped out at all, just told him i was flattered, thanked him for the compliment, and gave him a generous tip for giving me one of the best send offs out of newyorkcity that i, a single woman in love with herself and life, could have asked for. ((((mmmmmm I mmmmm LOVE mmmmm NEW mmmmmmm YORK )))))) mwah!!
MUSIC: grey continuous raindrops
READING: deleuze
FEELING:determined not to lose my new york state of mind
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