Friday, December 14, 2012

A Part of It

As I finally begin this thing, It's dusk on the Hudson (please click to embiggen all pics):

I've been attempting to coax good pictures out of a bad phone camera, with limited success. :P

I've been having a truly fantastic time falling in love with New York. Recently, any mood other than happy had been summarily banned by my (very strict) inner Sugar Plum Fairy. She takes bootstrap-ism to a whole new level, I'm telling you. Mary Poppins, eat your heart out. She has her reasons, though: I'm in New York.

I'm a Deco fanatic; The Chrysler Building is my all time favorite.

I stumbled across this legend, like bumping into a movie star on the street.

 ESB tourist shot.

 The Chrysler Building peeking in on Grand Central Terminal.

 Grand Central Tourist Shot.

 Gotham in the rain.

 Midtown magnificence.

 A 'pocket park' - the first ever, said the guard - with lighted waterfall.

 Times Square excitement.
I was shocked that it truly lighted up the night sky, meaning the airspace a mile above it appeared nearly daylit.

 Macy's cheery suggestion for your holiday season. 
I nearly cropped out the people, but hey, that's what weekday New Yorkers look like. A busy blur.

 These shots are my favorites, the top three. Two Gotham, and one resolutely New York City:

I did finally indulge a cruddy mood today. I have been all about getting stuff done, and my stupid HAIR, of all stupid things, was determined to stop me from heading out the door. It would not cooperate. It would not hear pleading. It would not heed warnings. It would not entertain alternatives to the usual options. It was 100% incorrigible. So I went Medieval on its ass.

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Gangbusters. I went the fuck at my hair. Inches upon inches were lost to the unflinching wastebasket, determined to withhold judgment. I attacked with violence unbecoming a hapless pair of house scissors. They hadn't a moment to protest. All things considered, I believe I did a pretty good job.

I haven't told the story of my first couple of weeks in New York City. I will, as soon as I'm confident that I can express it with justice to its magic. It has been a beautiful 14 days, and even this day, with its undone errands and crunchy frame of mind, has its unique magic. It took place here, in my City, The City, where it was supposed to take place. My long sought-after & dreamed of home. I am happy, and humbled, and grateful. I'm starry-eyed & spellbound. I feel as choked up and excited as I feel grounded and in place. I live now honored just to be here, to watch & talk with its people as one of its people, to marvel at its history right here in person, to stand and stare at St. Paul's as though I'd never seen a church in my life.

St. Paul's in the fog.

It's full up with such time machines. It's lit up at all hours with 250 year old pubs, days-old cupcake joints, and timeless angels. I'm so happy, so truly happy to be here, in it and with it and part of it. I love you to pieces, New York, New York.

Go, Hawks!