I wrote this on the plane ride home today:
San Francisco to New York. Fleeing the daylight as quickly as I can. The other end of the country, a place that came and went in five days. I left at 4:30 AM and had to hold back tears. It’s not like I suddenly hate New York City, but the difference of the cities is stunning.
I am excited to return to New York and I plan listening to Liza Minnelli Live at Carnegie Hall . When she sings, I Happen to Like New York and then finishes with New York, New York. I will be home.
San Francisco is where I will go to die, I think. No, no that’s a touch harsh. It’s true what they say, “You don’t move to New York to rest peacefully.” I think I may have made that saying up. Or a wise man once told me, I forget which. I can only presume that the opposite end of the country is where you go to rest peacefully.
I met some of the locales and enjoyed their quirkiness. Jim is an interesting guy, my San Franciscan Connection, for this I am eternally grateful. Cool, cute and calculated. He’s got a plan and intends to follow through. He captures the world through a camera lens and I find that a worthy cause to live for. I love his photos.
The waitress at It’s Top’s Diner. During both my trips there she discussed politics rather heatedly. She ran the counter and chatted with me as if I’d come into the diner everyday for years. She wasn’t annoying and she often got her point across eloquently enough.
The girl from New Orleans, but not lives in San Francisco whom sat next to me at Hemlock Tavern. She placed her wine down and simply said, “I am just putting this on the table. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to be friendly or anything.” I smiled and we joked back and forth. Then quickly added, “I’m holding you up from being rude.” It was a completely harmless and fun interaction.
In New York, you’d probably get a lewd look, luckily I left the New Yorker Attitude on the East Coast. The only time it slipped out was when we missed a Trolley Car and I screamed out, “WELL FUCK YOU, TOO!” Since it was a tourist area, not to mention little kids were around, I got off looks. You can take the boy out of New York City...
When San Francisco is sunny, it’s like seeing an classic movie in Cinema-Scope. The colors are so lush I found my eyes tearing from the saturation. When it’s rainy the city changes drastically. It isn’t like a gray day in New York. It seems as if the city is in mourning. At one point during my stay the city became completely engulfed in fog. I couldn’t see an inch in front of me. My entire mood fell and thus I allowed myself to weep.
Will I move there? Why is that a question I keep hearing? The waitress, K, my mother and different others would randomly asked that. Is San Francisco where New Yorkers go to when they’ve had enough? I suppose it’s only of the other cities to escape to. For it’s almost impossible to live in anything else after New York.
My soul, my spirit, my body and my mind have all been shaped by such a cruel mistress. In San Francisco, I was able to recapture something. To relive memories of my childhood I’d all but forgotten. Life would be quieter if I moved there, it’s only a fact that the city closes down at 2 AM. Silly Westerners, there were nights when my being didn’t begin until then.
I am home though. I am back in the state where I was born and raised. I am back in New York and the bloodline that connects me to this city, tainted yes, is of a superior strain. To move West would mean to change. To escape. Am I ready to escape?
Not quiet yet. It’s all a matter of order. Finish college, this annoying priority is ahead of any other decisions I make. I am 23-years-old...
I'm back home and finishing up a project. I'm sleepy and tired, but it feels nice to be back. Elizabeth was here to greet me. A friend texted me and asked if I wanted to go into the city for
dinner. The 5-hour plane ride I just got off of obviously didn't seem to matter, I should still come out into the city. It's acts like that that remind me, I am home.
Open your Golden Gate.
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