disturbia

<~~~~it may be the metropolitan opera, but it's still new york city...

It’s interesting to walk through a place without the tunnel-vision of living there. How did I never notice that you can see Times Square all the way down Seventh Ave at W. 14th St.?

Oh, New York, you are your own unique, totally dysfunctional world.

I stopped at Whole Foods in Chelsea to pick up an apple and a couple bucks worth of hot food for dinner. On my way from produce to the prepared foods, I spotted the check-out line, laughed out loud, and left the store. Over a hundred people stood in line, most of whom had less than ten items to purchase. And to them, this was normal and okay.

More people have touched my body in the past four days than in the past six months. It is never dark here. It is never quiet here. I have to crane my neck to see sky. If I hadn’t stayed near Central Park at first – and now by Prospect Park, cat-sitting for friends – I’d not have seen any significant greenery.

The unnaturalness of the city is unsettlingly disturbing and phenomenally magical.

Yes, I admit it: I can see why people love NYC. I get it, really, I do. But how can one live in this place and not go crazy? It’s like living in some sort of fantastical mental illness to live here. I’m far too practical to cede my sanity for that high.

I’ve also been particularly aware on this visit, despite wearing flats, of how short New Yorkers are. Where are the sons and daughters of Norway and Germany?