yesterday, as we made our way to half moon bay, with nary a cloud in the sky, panditji slipped in the best of billy joel. and as the california sun scorched us through our car windows, we were transported to NY via joel's soulful words and voice.
lately NYC has crept into our vocabulary and psyche. while PJ's love affair with NYC sparked from work, my relationship with NYC has been a largely imagined one, thrown in with a few touristy visits and one semi-professional trip. what do I remember out of it all is the glittering hudson, the snake-like winding traffic from bridge to bridge, oranges stacked outside a grocery store in tribeca, a man selling rings off a small cart in little italy and steam billowing from giant grates past midnight.
and then there is little bohemia, behenji's imagined peninsula of paradise. NYC has long been a mecca for artists, writers, actors & musicians. behenji has always envisioned herself with them. almost every other day my e-mails entice me with poetry readings, plays, writers groups, all located in NYC. behenji vows to visit the bowery one day and hopefully read some work of her own!
while suburbia has its bucolic charm and rhythmic predictabilty (and good schools and less taxes), it bores me to the bones. will the benevolent city Gods please shine their city light on us? no, we don't mind the sirens, horns and smog. and we will take the hipeccentric oath that all New Yorker's must. and no, we will not defect to 'joisy.'