The Beat Goes On

The first day back on NYC pavement was alive. The sun has been out all week and upon return, I feel that the life in this city had my blood pumping thicker and harder that first day, so much so that the force of it couldn't be contained within my skin. I walked around the Flatiron District then down through the East Village, then across the Manhattan Bridge into Dumbo all the while Jay Z pumping into my ears, one ode to Brooklyn and New York after the next. On the bridge, the East River swept underneath wide and dark, the lights of the two boroughs lining each side and motor boats glittering and tearing through the middle of it. Lighter off the ground, I rolled forward on my feet, greeting other passers by, but coolly and without too much warmth.

A few days later, including a day in Union Square with an old friend in the midst of Christmas shopping, I'm still far from convinced about staying here. Carving out a little life where you can live quiet, modestly, amidst quirks and strange ticking creatures and characters seems an impossibility here. I thought it could be done in Brooklyn, but I've lived there and I have my doubts. New York sets the pace, and we all follow. Am I wrong? What niche have I missed? This mainstream rush for gold is not feeding the beast, the hungry soul, within. I don't want to wear business casual or even office sleek; I don't want to do a 9 to 5 or even a 10 to 6; I don't want to ever have to use the internet to meet someone new again.

I'm still looking into other cities, in short. In the meantime, I'll take walks around Harlem and Red Hook today in search of life as it exists in real time.