Now that there's a 95% certainty that we (and by we I mainly mean me) are leaving New York I'm starting to get all preemptively cozy and nostalgic (I'm also spending an inordinate amount of time looking at farm houses in Vermont, but anyway). Driving (and by driving I mean in the back of a cab) into the city today aside from my usual, overwhelming urge to vomit (innate tendency towards car sickness + cab drivers + city = bad, bad things) I felt all caught up and included in the particular kind of loyal capitalism that only New York can engender in a person. Oh look, sweet little corner cafe here, incredibly amazing paper store there, shoes I could never afford to my right, handbags that cost twice what I used to make in an entire month (when I actually earned money rather than single-handedly hemorrhaging it). And that's the spirit, the allure if you will, the moth/flame equation of this city: no place else makes you want to spend money like New York City. It is a collective genius of promoting consumption and even I--especially I-- wild-eyed bumpkin reformed, can't help but succumb.
Things I might actually die from missing:
1. Rai Rai Ken.
2. Toasted Salt Bagels with Butter.
3. Pinkberry. I'm considering an outpatient program as we speak.
4. These people.
Things I might actually die from missing:
1. Rai Rai Ken.
2. Toasted Salt Bagels with Butter.
3. Pinkberry. I'm considering an outpatient program as we speak.
4. These people.
