What a life, what an odd dynamic. A love-hate type loneliness. I wouldn’t be sitting here without it, yet it’s the reason I get to sit here. The cost of independence. Nobody is wondering where I am. There’s no one to check in with. A curse, or a blessing? Everyday feels different.
I went to a comedy show in New York City tonight alone. That was a first. Somewhere in Greenwich Village I felt at peace. The spirit of comedians on stage was hopeful, but also sadly realistic. An admission of defeat, the long shot battle of success, while proclaiming a love for the craft. Inspiring. Feet from greatness, it’s intoxicating, the possibility. It’s as if the allure of the city is stronger than the reality of life. Drugs have that effect. Is New York a drug? Potential is the high, and the potential of reaching the New York heights is low. Angry at rent, while shouting into the mic with hope, a few Long Island miles from affordable. A tired trope of endlessly sad humor. Uncomfortably funny drenched in its own realness & reality.
It’s the juxtaposition of New York. The dream it sells packaged in gold & glitter, that’s delivered in a nightmare of endless sirens and never ending horns. The always constant stream of honks that shocks you back into reality just as your mind slips into the fantasy of seeing your name on the marquee. New York is tough. And I love it. Kick me in the teeth and piss on the peanuts of my net worth…. I’ll have another a slice, one more set, and text an ex.
