Fantasy Island

New York thoughts…We stayed at a little apartment in my old hood. I took T to play in Thompson Square Park, where back in the day we sometimes slept after punk shows, when it had gotten to late to grab a bus home to NJ. Every little restaurant we stopped in was fantastic. I stayed up late after my gigs talking to old friends in dingy bars. I took my kid to see the Statue of Liberty and it was so corny, it was awesome. A stone’s throw inland they were macing protesters on Wall Street.

T and Scott went home a couple of days before I did, so my last night there I walked home alone from meeting friends at The Bowery Hotel. Earlier in the day the street outside the apartment had reeked like garbage, but that night it smelled like fresh rain. It started misting so lightly you could see it hanging in the headlights of cars, almost like snow. It curled my hair and landed on my eyelashes, making the bar lights starry. Up ahead a group of people, maybe eight of them, came toward me and as they walked they swayed and sang together. At first I thought it was a religious procession but it was just some kids singing a disco song I didn’t know. And when I passed, one of them stopped and said hi.

I try and try to leave NY behind, but every time I do NY lays the romance on thick and I fall in love again. But I don’t mind how things are. I’m glad to be back at home in LA and in our little routine. NY is a better lover from afar, I think.

Next stop: Portland.

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