New York is walking around the Lower East side at 4am looking for a hotel (“How long would you like the room for? An hour? – taxi driver) and getting mistaken for a prostitute. First me, then him. It’s conversations that change the way I think for the rest of my life – and sort the boring from the brilliant.
It’s sex that I cant even be bothered trying to explain with words. The bottom of a shower alcove used to be where I’d sink to in melancholy and now it’s a spot to share happiness with the same lover. It’s falling in love all over again and regret that it cannot be sustained. Luckily the regret isn’t sustainable either.
Poppit makes a wish somewhere for the both of us to stay away from mediocrity. I am scared of mediocrity too. The price I will pay is that I can no longer stand anybody that embodies it. But it’s all subjective anyway.
It’s hanging out on our Williamsburg fire escape watching the Orthodox Jewish kids play on the street and getting stoned with old friends. It’s breaking into apartments to fill the tub with cold water because it’s so hot outside.
Getting lost in the Met, stung by a bee in Central Park, lobster spaghetti, jazz bars and red wine, coffee every morning in Brooklyn, outdoor movie festivals and concerts, pretentious roof top bars with beer, unpretentious roof top parties with cocktails, the Chelsea hotel, lots of breakfasts, reading books on the Highline, earl grey popsicles, lavender donuts. Markets and boys with long hair, dive bars and getting hilariously drunk. Singing Eric Clapton on the street with Poppit playing drums on her legs. It’s so hot, there is always sweat on our legs. The sun is so hot and the air is hot and even the clouds in the air are hot. The mosquitoes stop us sleeping at night and the fans aren’t strong enough. We catch the train to Coney Island (grey, dreary, like a bad summer horror movie) too many times.
When we leave we have had one hour of sleep and there are tears in my eyes, when the universe comes to save the day once again, as usual, and “Funkytown” comes on the taxi radio.