It’s my last full day here and I get up late. I was awake before eight but stayed in bed, free of the previous week’s leaden exhaustion but just tired. There are things I should be seeing and doing but I don’t know what they are. I am thinking about laundry and packing and I emailed about jobs last night.
I accept the city is too big to see: even with a year and a reasonable pace it could not all be explored. As you pass through it is being repaired, modified, extended, reconstructed. An annual tour would be of all the temporalities. You would have passed through all the space but time would have changed behind you, and the starting point would not be the same. The city, like the universe, is finite but unbounded.
Today is hot and as much as I’d like to walk more parks or the city canyons, I spent too much of my youth with affirmations like it’s only ninety-five for this to truly appeal. The city’s noisy center, even though I haven’t seen it very often, is still a mindfuck (in my friend’s words), but a nearly banal one.
Even for the center’s density and hubub, even it seems livable. Brooklyn would probably be better long-term, or the Jersey side, but it’s not a decision being made, just an observation. I never thought of the city as the scary monster my parents did, and this is now a proven fact. Sesame Street is in New York. It seems as great now as it did then.
Out among Brooklyn’s brownstones there is the famous Green-Wood Cemetery. That implies green, with benches. Maybe Coney Island, though that seems like a trap on a hot Friday afternoon that’s the early start to Labor Day. Nobody goes to cemeteries for holidays except in grey-funny early Nineties independent movies. It’s a place to sit and be quiet and realize what has happened, if I can. It’s like being a resident, I suppose, though I’ll leave to go back to bustle and noise while the residents have left that behind. Maybe when I see it I’ll understand their choice.