Friday, October 28, 2011

The New York Ocean

From my perch ten or so floors up a fancy office building in Columbus Circle, the dark night sky turns Central Park into a testy, rippling ocean cutting through uptown; the upper west and upper east are divided. The MET would be a cold swim away, or a shaky boat ride, and Lexington Ave. is inland. It's like the two sides are a world apart, different countries even, if we were in Europe. There appears to be an island somewhere in the center of the great divide; the lights of the boat house no doubt. The greenest green of this city has turned into an inky pool of black; and what lurks beneath?

When I moved to New York again a few months ago, I was somehow convinced that the Hudson River was an ocean. One night, I ate a pot cookie by mistake and had a heated debate with a gypsy cab driver positive and confident there was an ocean on one side of New York. The debate essentially ended in a simple statement; “Girl, how much you had to drink?” And then I started studying the maps in the subway a bit harder and accepted that the Hudson was in fact a river, though I didn’t quite understand how Manhattan was a river island, and anyway, I’m always inclined to sense an ocean to my left because I am a Californian.

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Born and raised under the Los Angeles sun and smog. At sixteen spent some time in LA County Juvenile Detention Center, although never really learned her lesson. Moved to Boston for the classic college experience. Spray painted graffiti in the Paris Metro during six month stay in the Marais. Survived an ultra fabulous and frightening internship at Vogue Magazine while living at a nunnery in Hell's Kitchen. Lived a year in Seoul, a city which can only be compared to a Disneyland theme park. Written four hundred sixty-four words of an undisclosed masterpiece novel. Currently pondering her next adventure and also the meaning of her memoirs from an artist's loft in dirty Brooklyn.