I'll miss the scents and, yes, the smells of the City.
There is a difference.
I'll miss the huge variety of people I've met every day, from the odd tourist to the street people who let me know it was spring by their presence in the park, to the sweet guys in the bodaga on West Broadway across from the Grand, that had the sausage ready every day for the dogs.
I've talked to some really interesting folk; artists, actors, directors, mothers, kids.... I spent a train ride on Thursday talking to a man who had that beautiful lilt to his voice you hear from people native to Jamaica. He walked up to me on the platform while I juggled the terrier, my lemonade from my pizza place, a book and my metropass.
"Where did you get such a fine animal?", he asked, ignoring her butchered haircut. She leaned into him, inhaling. He smiled at me, his teeth brilliant against his skin, and as he bent over him, I was in love. Lime, cilantro, chili, a wealth of spices wafted from his clothing, his skin....I, too, leaned into him and inhaled.
We were his.
He pulled out his phone after we settled into our seats, me removing my giant bag from my back and putting it under the seat, and showed me his own big terrier. We discussed dogs, children, travel, his homes in three countries, Thomas Paine and then moved on to discuss the four restaurants he owned in New York and Jamaica, and his job as a personal chef to blah blah. Our conversation was the way I like conversations, lively, full of laughter, a variety of subjects, sassy... nothing that it shouldn't be, all that was right. He asked me to keep in touch, I was welcome to join both he and his wife for dinner... he didn't have a card.. I never have a card, what would it say? Jill of Many Trades, Master of None?...so, he pulled out a major culinary magazine, and opened it to his featured monthly column and wrote down his email address and took down mine.
I'll miss that, the quick connections, the people from all walks of life.
The woman who sat next to me last night, while I was crammed in on my seat, no dog this time, a huge woven basket I'd found as trash outside a posh shop in SoHo, my things from the flat, the bag... stunned over the turn of events. She had a Lord and Taylor bag, so, I asked if they had things that weren't Mamie Eisenhower.. told her where the comment came from. She threw back her head and laughed. We talked about her upcoming 25th anniversary, that she and her husband were going to spend it in the Keys. They didn't have children, so, it was up to her nieces and nephews to put her in a good home. I told her about the Jarhead's plan for me on a bus. She liked that, and said she may see me there.
The people I've met, that I like... some of the people I've met up with at the drinking fests. Todd
(yes, you'll still get your wedding gift) and Sally and Cajun and Jew and Irish and NYCP and Midwestern and Gal... EVI... the pool shark who goes by the deceptive name, Oobster... we're not best buddies, yet, I know they exist. To so many, they are words. To me, they are faces, and laughter, and a real person, who buys me vodka in my tonic. And, oh, Lisa.... she's amazing.
To those I've not met, who keep in touch, Bee and Corey's Mom and Amber. I'll not have that chance, now.
I won't be able to answer the question that plagues MB's and my soul... why DO they drink everything out of paper bags in the Bronx?
People who have become my extended family of the heart... GW... and Mom. No WalMart for me now. Wicked GW and her fucking puns.
This City that I really love. The stench of forced labour, roaches in bad food, the fact there is a city above the train I didn't know existed. Looking out over it all when a storm comes in... when that lightening was popping across the East River during our shoot... watching the city shut down at 3A... the lights cutting out building by building. You could hear it yawning as it went to sleep.
The stuff that is a fortune because it's stuff from here.... I decided to buy new underwear. The kids don't have to turn away, they've seen laundry, they know I wear underwear. I used to be a full on underwear whore, but, it was expensive, and it was that or food... so, I stopped while I was out yesterday, before the Big Job Loss, and asked the price of a pair of dark chocolate coloured panties. I have a bra that colour and wanted to match it... you never know when you'll be in an accident or swimming in a hotel pool in your underwear, right, Bee?
"Ummm, how much are these simple cotton panties in this nice dark chocolate colour?"
"Those? Oh, those are on clearance!"
I like the word clearance... my friend, CL, and I always do the "Clearance, Clarance" line from Airplane when we see it in a store.
"Lovely!" I flipped over the tag, and was happy for the bigass backpack that let me bounce back up when I fell backwards on the floor.
For cotton panties.
Not the thong things that I don't understand because I've spent most of my life pulling underwear OUT of my ass, but, full on hipster cotton panties. Like WalMart, only in a store in mid-town Manhattan.
Thankfully, they didn't have my size....there were two reasons I smiled when she said, "Oh, a large would be far too big on you."
And, the not having to admit I didn't want to pay the price was one of them.
I'm not sure why this is happening all at once. My K, the director who writes so wonderfully you do believe in God watching us, in the purity of the soul, who is my friend, said there is something that is to happen, this is being done for a good reason. As I said, I wish I had a letter telling me what.
C is also positive. "Go, see, relax. Don't expect anything, don't ask, just receive." I'm not patient. I fear things not happening, I fear all my dreams dying. That I will go back to being someone's caregiver, someone's P.A., shuffled away....my words locked up as tight as my heart.
The WeatherGuy is here, too. We had years of being friends, of sending text messages saying on his part, "Hello from (fill in the blank)" and my end was "Hello from Utah". It's a find our way slowly thing... and, now... well, now.... we are back to a bunch of states apart, and the other thing, there I was told my words were a burden.
I'll be in the same place, but, a universe away. Funny, I'm okay with that, and I'll miss my WG's voice.
I'll miss my Chinese lady and her cart on Lafayette, she throws in extra eggrolls for me now.
I'll miss the kids in the courtyard, who yell, "The Lady is home!!"
I'll miss the way the air feels after the rain.
I'll miss the pizza guys telling me they brought black olives for my chicken roll, and telling the local drunk guy to fuck off, leave baby alone. And laughing behind his back while I politely try to ignore his advances, rolling their eyes at me. "Hey, baby... how's life, eh?", keeping me there, the next day giving me a hard time about my beau.
I'll miss the train packed with Yankee fa.... who am I kidding?
I'll miss that feel of the air as it pushes up on you when the train rushes into the station.
The way we all bond together, watching down the track, tapping our feet, the collective groan when the 4 or the A or the F pulls in, so full of people, you know you'll never get in, and pushing in anyway.
The musicians in the stations, that guy on the 4/5/6 platfom at Union Square, who plays the plastic buckets.... omg, he is outstanding. The beggers, the girls in giggling groups heading places in the Bronx, the girls in the East Village, discussing the same things, in different accents, different clothes, all young and vibrant...some with a look of confusion deep in their eyes, others with a predatory gleam... different neighborhoods, different levels of educations, different tax brackets, all the same sisters under the trappings over their skin. Men in suits, in dreads, in jesussandals, with the look of practiced boredom, eyes flicking over women....women looking back.
Same sex, different sex... and those who are content to talk to me and the terrier.
This is to be my time, mine. I didn't mind the struggle with the disease, the wait afterwards, the odd roommate.. I loved me my N, I learned to enjoy the Bronx. I've spent two hours plus a day on the train to walk dogs and play serf to a person who needs taking care of, but, not by me anymore. That place had some bad gris gris, and, it was time... I stayed too long and it bit me in the ass.
I didn't listen to the Universe then, it showed me why it gives you hints.. it's like the dog standing up and stretching... you should heed it well.
I've interviewed for some jobs, one as a line producer. I'm fairly certain I could have that one... but, without housing, it's a no go right now.
So, I'm headed back to the land of Utes for a bit.... I'll leave right after my birthday at the end of July.... no fires and s'mores and ghost stories for me this summer. Two more weeks of packing up my bigass suitcases, taking them one at a time on three trains out to Brooklyn to store them at C's house. I'll pack one bag, have my leather messenger bag and the terrier's case, and we'll fly out on August 1st.
I'm listening, Universe. Tell me why I have to leave right now, make the next two weeks glorious....
And, I'll see what's in store for me down the road.
Patience was never one of my virtues.
Oh, and this does NOT mean you can take me off your blogroll..... I will return.
And I know where you drink.