New York Missive #3

NY missives #? what a day. the sunshine was beaut and my cheeks are a little rosy, despite lashings of factor 50. We did some heavy duty touristing today. Started by heading to the box office at St James and bagging tickets for Dave Byrne’s American Utopia, excited to check that out tonight. And then we walked from Broadway to Brooklyn! The High Line slips above the city between vaguely interesting buildings and construction sites, heavily manicured pieces of garden / park beginning to spring up buds and first flowers. A trio of gardeners seem to follow us the entire way, fluffing and primping as they go. Hellebores, willow, a type of cypress I believe, some fruit blossom - maybe cherry. We descend next to the Whitney and wander along to Chinatown. I had expressed a desire to have been in different neighborhoods - have done a few now - Hells Kitchen, West Village, Greenwich, SoHo, the financial district / Wall Street, Uptown Downtown Midtown... I don’t know who these people are in my head that want to know where I went in New York, but they seem very concerned that I am able to say I did a lot of shit & didn’t waste a drop of time. Personally, given how tired I am after finishing that job, I am also minded and happy to stay in bed, but you know, these unseen masters are not always easily evaded. We talk about some really useful and transformative stuff. I realize that I am so invested in knowing what another person wants from me that I spend all my energy trying to figure it out, ask for it, provoke it, emotionally labour for it and so on. And I don’t stop to ask myself what I want first. Oh! let me tell you what I want! It makes me so much more vulnerable and open hearted to know my own desire. I can hear you so much better. I find myself curious and interested. We drift out of Chinatown, heaps of knock off Gucci and the same sunglasses on sale on street corners on repeat, same same same. We get lost briefly trying to figure out how to get onto the Brooklyn bridge, and suddenly we spot the throng of tourists and more stalls selling; all your NYC caps & I heart NY tat is here. The breeze is up and we enjoy a blustery whipping as we make it from Manhattan over the east river between the posing selfies, couples, middle of the walkway posing before the Manhattan view. I am sleepy, we need coffee! The macarons in this little French bakery under the bridge obviously make me think of you and I drink weak filter coffee & devour bright red soft strawberry sweetness in a bid to rally. All the regular coffee here is so weak, I realize we don’t do that anymore in the uk, no filter, no nescaff, only triple shot americano gentrified bullshit and I note that New York is much more old school in that way, and a few others. I photographed a man shoveling coal into a cellar today. The Byrne show was just great, uplifting and playing all the hits with the most incredible band, and he is such a nice and captivating man to watch. We had a really good time. We roll out and straight back in - Juniors Diner, neon sign screaming ‘famous cheesecake’ and oh boy, I am in HEAVEN. Matzo ball soup is like absolutely my jam, major cornbread comfort food yes please, and black cherry soda, I’m planning to get a crate of it in my suitcase, and blue cheese dressing on a green salad and Annie gets a BLT and fat-as-fuck-chips and then we binge and have to stuff our faces with our shared vanilla cheesecake and still can’t quite manage it. It is rammed, the bartender is shaking out the most lurid cocktails in a comically slapdash fashion, half the vodka ends up splashing out the sides - slamming down sickly apple martinis that nobody seems able to drink, they keep being returned to the counter half finished, abandoned glacé cherries floating in alien green goo. The noise of New Yorkers gabbing about Broadway shows is brash and marvelous and I really feel like I’m here, I am inside it, not just skating on the surface. I love this town.

New York Missive #2

I have to find a way to photograph this city on my phone. It’s not a clean and clear thing, it’s a feeling, a muddy poetry of grasped symbols and reflected ideas. This is no time for perfect squares and rules of thirds, sharp focus or crisp exposures. How will I make this machine of perfection bend to my degraded whims… …turning and tossing at night, jet lagged and drifting away from sleep at threes, fours and fives of the AM. Precision data is available on these particular reveries, but you can’t respond, or you don’t. The silence taunts me, on hold, for what you want and think of me, twisting in white sheets aching for you to, let’s at least say, breathe on me.

longing

I yearn. It is most discomfiting. But still, exquisite. I think of you relentlessly, the clipped manner of your speech, those odd sounds you make, every sharp intake of breath sending my brain into paroxysms of delight. Your coldness is divine, your abrupt termination of all our conversations, I spin with desire as you shut me down, shut me out. I long to be wrapped up in you, to be experienced, held, inhaled and known...