Friday, February 9, 2001

9:05 a.m. The train is departing right on time. Something I'd have been surprised to see if we had opted for a bus. I've always liked trains. I think its mostly the sound. That deep chuga-chuga noise it makes while gliding across the rails. Years of seeing Hollywood's romanticized version probably helps as well. Expectations have their own substance.

3:05 p.m. In the Guggenheim now. Very hungry as I’ve not eaten in hours. Oh and the museum is great. Curvy and Moderne. I like the building better than just about anything in it. The attention to detail, and unexpected layouts one encounters are really something. And would'nt you know I'd find some Loganesque domes?

6:05 p.m. Back at John's apartment, sitting back with a warm cup of coffee. I lay back into the couch close my eyes. Just like in the movies: the horns and sirens never stop.

8:25 p.m. Met our host John down near times square and wandered about touring Rockefeller plaza, times square, and the like. The buildings are fantastic, but the overall effect is very touristy. Now were down in China town for dinner. Much cooler. Grittier, more bohemian. Makes me feel more like I'm in New York.

Saturday February 10, 2001

10:08 a.m. Rolling out of bed, sucking down some coffee and nursing the blisters on my feet. I've got to get some better shoes.

After dinner last night, John, Will and I took a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. What a view. The towering, glowing NY skyline crisscrossed by the bridge's spidery suspension cables. I wish my camera was capable of capturing the images. Just incredible to look at.

The weather remained warm and clear, until we got back to John's apartment. He left and slept at his boyfriend's house, giving us the run of the place.

1:23 p.m. Sitting in a cyber cafe chugging some hot Java. Youth, eccentric garb, and polychromatic hair. None of the furniture matches. In the bathroom is a large pile of old computers massed into a kitch-form sculpture. Magic marker scrawlings over all parts of the discarded machines. Yes, but is it art?

4:50 p.m. Back at Johns. I bought this cool mod shirt but now realize when I ask Will to grab me a size medium, he grabbed the wrong shirt. sigh. Another $40 in the dumpster.

Hmm, I'm tired. Its a nice tired. Warm, relaxed and very comfortably exhausted. Think I'll have a beer.

Sunday February 11, 2001

11:00 a.m. Bagels and coffee begin the day, as Will was good enough to run out and get them for us. Last night the weather went south and now its cold as hell out there.

When we got home yesterday from running around in the East Village John was already here straightening up. He was a great host, not only giving us a place to stay, but also free beer and nuts. What more could we want?

He took us out for some killer Indian food and huge portions of cake at one of his favorite bakeries. God I'm stuffed. John then headed to his boyfriend Scott's, and we hoofed it over to a theater to catch the film "Cast Away". A predictable, overly shamltzy, but not bad film. They needed to do something interesting with the soundtrack, throw in some plot twists, and tone down Tom Hanks' whining and crying.

It was late when we got out and both of us were tired. Will's eyes were bloodshot and his face hung with fatigue. Still, he wanted to see the gay/leather bar "The Lure", so we put our heads down into the cold winds and trekked on over. The Lure was much like the Eagle. A little more hardcore with porn flick playing, and a dildo shop right there. They had a very strict "manly" dress code which I found a humorous contrast to the queeny club music they played. On the whole, it just gave me a strong sense of "been there, done that". I wasn't interested in staying. We drank one drink, groused about the seven dollar cover, and left. It was probably two or three in the morning by the time we got home.

2:15 p.m. Rattling along the train tracks back towards DC. New York, New York, what are my final thoughts of you? New York is a huge bottle of well behaved chaos. Its a vast and complex city that can hardly be fathomed in a short weekend. Everything is bigger, more crowded, and more eclectic than where I live, but not necessarily ruder or more abrasive. New Yorkers are direct (and use their car horns liberally), but they seem to navigate their hurried, crowded, and intertwined lives with surprising grace.

Would I want to live there? Well I can't see retiring there, but yes, I'd enjoy living there for five years or so. If nothing else, I'd like to see the "best" the world has got. The best musicians, the swankest fashion, the meanest streets. Throwing oneself in such a cauldron has to be beneficial. To give you perspective on your place in the universe if nothing else.