I have these fleeting thoughts, coming and going, going and coming. I try my best to capture them in writing but in New York, this absolute epicenter of innovation, birth of new ideas, trials, errors, and massive successes, thoughts are often gone as soon as they come.
How do I match a coffee table to a rug? How do I file taxes and when? Should I pick up fresh flowers to keep in my apartment? Where is the line between being “myself” and carefully curating my words and actions to accomodate status quo and social niceties? The world’s vastness swallows me up and the endless options spit me out. Countless books, lists of movies, schedules of art shows, and music recommendations saturate my life while I’m surrounded by the free-spirited, the uptight, and those concerned with the trivial. I’m exhausted by my mind’s massive leaping from things like what Sarah Jessica Parker and my boss have planned for tonight and how the homeless double amputee ended up where he is. I eat homemade peanut butter sandwiches so I can on some level justify wandering through Bendel’s and Bergdorf’s at lunch. I clutch my Kate Spade as I catch the JMZ, passing the stop where a stray bullet hit a seven year old last month.
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