no sleep til...

I don't know what I expected to be so different. As if I could disappear for several months and everything would suddenly change positions or close down. But no, every direction I looked, everything was just as I remembered. But with renewed vibrancy.

I slid back into the grind so seamlessly, and was instantly absorbed into the city's throbbing bloodlines (otherwise known as "the subway" and "traffic"). Arrived at the station and was glared at by a cranky old woman. But then a stranger helped me with my bags without even asking. The cab driver lies and tells me he doesn't know the way to Brooklyn. Are you freakin' kidding me? Fine, I'll direct. (Do I still remember?) Along the way, ensnared in the aluminum crush, I point out to myself the old archetypes of New York that I so fondly remember: rocker-junkie (track marks, check), East African immigrant, Indian cab driver, Middle American tourist with big camera, fashionistas in Jimmy Choos, Wall Streeters, the ubiquitous hipster, and the black-cowboy-slash-soul-brotha-in-skinny-jeans-and-Superman-cape... wait, huh? Unusual, but not for this town.

I arrived at the new/old apartment. Took a walk around the neighborhood and promptly picked up 2 perfect giant wooden picture frames that someone else had thrown away. Picking up other people's garbage- old New York survival skills coming back strong!

Hi New York, I'm back. Party.