Hard Love in a Cold City

Awesome title, right?  Sounds like a fantastic dime novel. 

Still awaiting Miles' debut appearance as a blog contributor (or reader?), I am eager to give the world some feedback on itself...

WOW.  New York City is a crazy place.

I am writing from the new JetBlue terminal in JFK airport.  Getting to the airport from the city, btw, cost me a whopping 8 dollars total and took what felt like 20 minutes but was probably 40.   When I got here, I stuck my credit card into the machine and it printed my boarding passes in seconds.  It was so convenient, I thought it might offer to pleasure me when it was done.  After only a few moments of waiting, I realized that I was out of luck, and proceeded to the futuristic everythingterminal where you have free wireless and 8 million electrical outlets for all 3 people.

New York City doesn't give you the opportunity to slow down, so I won't either.  Here's the story.

PART ONE: Swanky Midtown Socialites

I began my adventure in a 5th floor apartment on W 36th (by times square) in which a man who likely gets paid more than me and looks like he gets paid more than Diddy (I AM KING) kindly escorts you to the elevator.  

The host, who was quite generous, does advertising for Equinox, a gym where you can buy coffee and shop for clothes.  Her company was strikingly young and well dressed.  Some were just expensively dressed (a nice young man wearing only a low-cut v-neck wool sweater comes to mind).  Either way, everyone seemed exceptionally well off and attractive.  It's good to know that people in my age group are doing something with themselves.  Still, I was extremely self conscious.  I would need something to make this party happen for myself...

PART TWO: Alcohol

Actually, only one drink was necessary to get my groove going, and everyone was very kind and intelligent.  If anyone has ever seen a liquor that is sold and served in a clear glass skull with no words, let me know what it is.  If you do see it, drink cautiously!  

Either way, it was kind of a wonderful little event.  I accidentally tucked my shirt in and learned that I look bi-curious that way.  But it was the key to a more social and talkative evening.  I learned that Archie from Minnesota came to the big city to be an actor and that he LOVES my music ohpleasedon'tturnitoffyouaresogood! Anyway, I met Vasili's roommate (small world?) and had a good time for 90% of the party.  The bitter end was exactly what it sounds like.   I was ready for the next phase of big city life.

PART THREE: The Grand Disillusionment

Dear Robin,

You are not very cool.  It's okay, no one actually is.  I see millions of people struggling and working hard to find their dreams.  You thought yours were a plane ticket, a large bed, and a cup of hot cocoa away.  Life is simply not that easy.  You don't need to suffer.  You will have to work much harder though.  And in the end, you still wake up in a cold, dirty, beautiful city full of broken dreams.  Sometimes you get what you want.  And sometimes you will have to want what you get.  You will have a great time while you were here, and you will have no real way to articulate that to your loved ones.  "it was awesome.  I love new york city" you will say.  Fortunately, you will mean it.

Don't worry, I wont tell your friends back home that you are not as cool as me.  You can do that yourself.

kisses, 

New York City

PART FOUR: Lap of Luxury

Dear New York City,

You are not that bad.  Furthermore, I won't let you win.  You broke my heart, and my headphones.  But I nursed the first and fixed the second.  You shut my record shops down, but I found house vinyl in the garbage room where I was staying.  You made my life tricky and difficult, but as my friend Diddy likes to say... Can't Stop Wont Stop.

yours,

Robin Malone Simmons

I wandered Manhattan with the gracious and intelligent Alec Turnbull, and went to Wine and Roses on the upper west side, where I met a charismatic man who has the personality (and genetics?) of Adrian Laurence Harris, but looks strangely like Casey Affleck and is dating a fantastic Croatian girl (why do I like things from Croatia so much?  I suppose you would have to exclude Slivovitz).  With good company and free champagne, NYC was looking much more appealing, and intelligent. 

In the middle of my week, luck picked back up and I made dinner that wasn't a complete trainwreck for 8 or 9 people.  Then my exciting Georgian DJ Manager, mr V, walked us into an exclusive party in a midtown nightclub called Cain (pictured above) like it wasn't a big deal.  I met  the man I came to see perform, Treasure Fingers (his real name is AJ) and learned that basically, I am ahead in the DJ game.  Time to show the world what Hammurabi and Robot Birgeneau are made of.  I danced on the divider and drank free alcohol courtesy of Stoli blackberry vodka.  There was a ridiculous man with a drum, and beautiful people everywhere.  Thank you for indulging me in that adventure, Alec.

FINAL REFLECTIONS: The Absence of God

Absence of God: The Blind Butterfly Catcher, By Raqib Shaw.  On display at the Met in central park.

When I went to Rome, Gracie told me that I would believe that Jesus is real, just by seeing the scale and intensity of worship and belief.  All I saw was a culture that believed in expensive leather and pointy shoes.  But they were awesome and interesting people!  They just lack modern bathroom standards and the internet.

In New York, I learned that God is not present everywhere, but absolutely everything else is.  And It is fantastic.  We do truly live in the best possible world.  I don't particularly find utopian ideas appealing.  And to look at crowded subway cars full of fun and ultimately nice people who are trying as hard as they can to be awesome every single day, you have to believe in SOMETHING.  

So you believe in yourself.  You are the greatest person that exists.  Fat.  Black.  White.  Strange.  Bearded.  Whatever.  You have no excuse not to dress yourself in the morning.  Everyone tries.  And it works.  You are doing more everyday than just feeding yourself and defecating.  Life is the real deal.

I had a great time and I'm glad I went, but can I have my trip and money back?  If that sounds contradictory, it's because I am writing now, before the storm clears from my mind.