2. nyc is an upper
New York sounds like a scary place.
The subway roar.
The subway screech.
The cars.
The honks.
The many honks.
The many cars.
The car door slamming.
The bodega door slamming.
The airplane flying over head.
The spilled iced coffee hitting the pavement accidentally.
The distant noise of a soap opera being watched down the hall.
The kids battling with imaginary swords and real screams on the fire escape below.
The group of young people rallying on the stairs, never knowing if they’re heading in or heading out.
I would say the sound of a watch ticking from the top drawer of your dresser but there is no such thing as time in New York City. Why would we use time when we have a million other things to keep track of our days.
We wake up.
We get ready for work.
We go to work.
We spend a lot of time at work - to the point of exhaustion, because baby chose to have a career in the greatest city in the world: New York, New York.
Then we do something after work.
And then another thing.
And then another thing.
Some days we even find time to eat after work.
Some days it’s just a bottle of wine and a sad looking salad after a workout class.
We do as many things as we can.
As many things as we can fit in before we have to go to bed -
(which, as you know, we never really “have” to go to bed because we’re always too busy to put sleep on our weekly to do list that’s full of things like: soul cycle with kristine, walk with taylor, date with michael, quick dinner with work girls, broadway tix with heather and mike, go on another date, drive to hamptons with kristine + taylor, fly for work, go on another date, extend the weekend in LA, go on another date, vineyard day with helen’s two cousins, weekend in santorini, etc, etc)
So yeah, as many things as you can fit in before you fall down on a mattress due to system overwhelm.
And then you go to sleep.
And then you wake up and get ready for work.
And do the same thing you did the day before.
Until days turn into years of this.
So yeah, New York City sounds like scary place.
Because it kind of is.
If you can’t keep up with this city, you’re dead to it.
If you can’t keep up with this city, it’ll be the death of you.
And even though NYC is the one that handed you the glass of wine, the line of cocaine, the shitty salad and the need for immediate attention and gratification delivered to you as fast as the bodega man can make your bacon egg and cheese -
It was you who got addicted it.
And like all good addicitions, eventually you have to quit them.
So you take your shot-to-hell nervous system and your eating disorder and you move to LA.
And you replenish your body with the nutrients it deserves
(specifically Vitamin D!)
To make up for all the years NYC took off your life.
Because if NYC is an upper, LA is a downer.
And it’s time to finally have some downtime.