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I'm in New York again, for BlogOn Social Media Summit.
I am sitting in an internet cafe on W. 32nd street. There are Korean characters on the keyboard, and the blogger pages are in Korean. I'm not freaked out by it. Actually, it makes me feel like I'm in a deleted scene from the movie Blade Runner, doing something illegal.
Be that as it may, I got here early today, specifically so I could go downtown. I haven't been in the Village in many years--and when I got on the 7th Avenue Subway's #1 train, I felt like I was going home (there is no 1/9 train any more--that went to the World Trade Center).
There is a comfort there that I never have when I go back to New Jersey. Maybe because there's only good memories among McDougal and Bleeker streets (home of the Cafe Reggio, Bleeker Bob's Records, and the Cafe Dante), at the Cristopher St./Sheridan Square station (where the sign for Hibiscus and the Screaming Violets used to hang over Village Cigars), and down further at the corner of Mercer and Houston (where the Angelika Film Center resides). Tribeca and SoHo and the Village all figure so prominently in my memories of young adulthood--I spent so much time here--and it has always been welcoming.
I remember applying to NYU when I was applying to Smith. I wanted to be Home. But, I have no clue if I ever got accepted. My husband had asked for a divorce, I moved out of my mother-in-law's, and I believe one of them threw out the letter.
I think now of applying to NYU's journalism school, or to do work at its center from Media and Religion. I don't know. I have been more obsessed with the job thing lately and graduate school's shifted a little out of the picture. It would be nice to have regular money so I can come Home more often.
I have an invitation from Jory Des Jardins and Elisa Camahort of Blogher to meet for drinks after the conference. And I found out about another blogger meetup that Tony Pierce is conducting down on Delancey St. I don't know if I want to go to either. Something inside just wants to savor the time here, go see the new movie about Edward R. Murrow, and not do any networking or socializing. I don't care about building community at the moment. There are no guarantees that I will escape my exile in New England, no matter how many people I meet.
So, right now, in this particular moment, at an internet cafe in Midtown, I want to langish in the love I feel here at Home--because I don't know when I'll get the chance to be in this place, alone, again. And as I get on that train on tuesday to head back into exile, I will feel that homesickness that I never feel when I leave New Jersey. No one there has every loved me quite the way this entire city has loved me and I will truly miss its warmth and exuberance.
Nothing ever compares to Home.
I am sitting in an internet cafe on W. 32nd street. There are Korean characters on the keyboard, and the blogger pages are in Korean. I'm not freaked out by it. Actually, it makes me feel like I'm in a deleted scene from the movie Blade Runner, doing something illegal.
Be that as it may, I got here early today, specifically so I could go downtown. I haven't been in the Village in many years--and when I got on the 7th Avenue Subway's #1 train, I felt like I was going home (there is no 1/9 train any more--that went to the World Trade Center).
There is a comfort there that I never have when I go back to New Jersey. Maybe because there's only good memories among McDougal and Bleeker streets (home of the Cafe Reggio, Bleeker Bob's Records, and the Cafe Dante), at the Cristopher St./Sheridan Square station (where the sign for Hibiscus and the Screaming Violets used to hang over Village Cigars), and down further at the corner of Mercer and Houston (where the Angelika Film Center resides). Tribeca and SoHo and the Village all figure so prominently in my memories of young adulthood--I spent so much time here--and it has always been welcoming.
I remember applying to NYU when I was applying to Smith. I wanted to be Home. But, I have no clue if I ever got accepted. My husband had asked for a divorce, I moved out of my mother-in-law's, and I believe one of them threw out the letter.
I think now of applying to NYU's journalism school, or to do work at its center from Media and Religion. I don't know. I have been more obsessed with the job thing lately and graduate school's shifted a little out of the picture. It would be nice to have regular money so I can come Home more often.
I have an invitation from Jory Des Jardins and Elisa Camahort of Blogher to meet for drinks after the conference. And I found out about another blogger meetup that Tony Pierce is conducting down on Delancey St. I don't know if I want to go to either. Something inside just wants to savor the time here, go see the new movie about Edward R. Murrow, and not do any networking or socializing. I don't care about building community at the moment. There are no guarantees that I will escape my exile in New England, no matter how many people I meet.
So, right now, in this particular moment, at an internet cafe in Midtown, I want to langish in the love I feel here at Home--because I don't know when I'll get the chance to be in this place, alone, again. And as I get on that train on tuesday to head back into exile, I will feel that homesickness that I never feel when I leave New Jersey. No one there has every loved me quite the way this entire city has loved me and I will truly miss its warmth and exuberance.
Nothing ever compares to Home.
posted by Tish Grier at 8:00 PM
3 Comments:
Right you are... it's amazing how just entering a city limits can encompass you with the feeling of being home. When I drive to the town where I grew up, despite the fact that it's changed (and maybe not really for the best?), I still feel safe, secure and "home". There's truly no other way to describe it. I don't think it ever changes either. Good for you, pursue your efforts valiantly - you're such a talented woman with so much to say.
"Windin' your way down in Bleeker Street
Light in your head and dead on your feet
Well another crazy day,
Ya dream the night away
And forget about everything..."
Wasn't that a song? Jeff Rafferty or something???
The Café Reggio....and Bleecker Bob's. Wow - I still buy picture sleeve 45's for gag gifts for my old pals at Christmastime.
Have a great trip.
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