Tuesday, August 05, 2008


Back Into the Hive

I always have some difficulty re-entering New York. This time seems to be even more painful and bewildering.

Did I really live here in any way that could possibly be construed as "happy"? Did I really not mind all these people? Was I really happy not being able to go to cultural events which I supposedly love so much and which drew me to New York in the first place but which I haven't been able to afford in ages?

I can no longer remember.

Sure, some parts of the city are nice. The super-rich live in their over-designed lofts and apartments which have very little functional value (they have housecleaners, and very few books to read so everything is clean and uncluttered) while the rest of us are managing. These streets are brown. There is an absence of anything green, save for Central Park, which on a given day I can "share" with a million other people. Prettiness is a privilege of the wealthy. No wonder these stupid women try to prop up their faces; this place tells us that to have access to beauty, you must have money. My heart is dead and cannot seem to reattach itself to things I once loved.

I am longing for some place with a garden that needs tending. I would like to be growing my own food now, not trotting down to the farmer's market to talk with the farmers, most of whom I like or at least find interesting in some unpredictable and thoughtful way. I would like to be reading in the evening. Such a place cannot just exist in the past, even if the cities are encroaching on old towns still attempting to preserve their desirable way of life. There must be something other than the constant clatter out my window, the relentless humidity, the "you go girl" mantra among my peers, the "let me drink soy milk and get all fake-ethnic and hip with you" vibe oozing from a coffee shop, the "Oh my God you are so thin. No. Totally" inane dialogue that has followed me from high school.

Did I really get up, morning after morning, put pen to paper and care about what I was doing and think that it all mattered?

Move to Michigan - fewer people, lots of burbs close to or in the country and community sponsored agriculture (if nothing else, you could volunteer on the farm). And housing bargains in 2008...
Try to find that garden. There must be one in need of caring hands.
hey! yes you did, because it does!!

you COULD be one of those empty-shelved non-functional apartmented people, but you're NOT!!

that always matters.

i hear there are gardens in Queens.
Well, thank you everyone. Life looks somewhat better this morning after some sleep. I'll leave this post up anyway, at the risk of embarrassing myself in the future, but hey. This really was how I was feeling and how I'm sure I'll feel again.

Michigan actually sounds perfect. The only problem is that it is a little bit far from my wheat farm. Perhaps I should think about something closer to the fields. All the New Yorkers would think I was absolutely nuts in that case, and that would be interesting to observe.
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