  NYC, last weekend. It would seem that the cities I know and new york are pretty comperable, it is just a matter of scale, and of history i suppose. The great thing about ny has to be the immediacy of your annonimity, you arrive with a group, and within that group there is a certain comfort, all the more magnified when held up against the great sprawl of unknown concrete. But if you slip from out of that group's shielding unity soon you may find your spirits tempered by a feeling of being entierly microscopic, a small bacteria barely skirting the surface of that big rotting apple. Soon you may find yourself dreaming of familiarity, while equivalent urges to discover and explore press you forward.
You know I saw a few steets on my own and a few with friends and (apart from when confronted with unavoidably new yorkian landmarks) in a group I found the city to be nothing but a set of options, alone it becam a series of puzzles. At first I didn't even want to go, and I can't even get into explaining that, but once on the road my spirits were raised and soon after I was laughing inside at a fraction of myself that might have denied this to it's counterpart.
Fear of the unknown counter-balanced by the excitement of discovery. A sometime scary fairytale of action and reaction. And of course what made this weekend of fairytale like status in my mind was undoubtedly the time I spent with a lovely young lady, she brought me to coney island and I felt then and after, something which has long escaped me. That soft warmpth and heart rate rising sensation which always speaks to more than primal attraction, and always ends in either the zeniths or nadirs of one's emotional landscape.
Mabye there is something there, i imagine not, more than us I am simply glad to have recaptured a sense I thought that a broken heart may have had forever taken from me. The captivating and energizing force of what passes between people as they embark, perhaps, on a journey to their heart's desire. There is a duality in all things, and I believe this carries over to our soul/spirit, and if I find in this life that other part of my s/s.... like those broken heart pendants, that join perfectly matched broken hearts elsewhere.
I hope oneday I at least encounter that woman... and then I will wait til you return or I find you again, it reminds me of this Yeats I'm planning on illustrating: "and I will find where she has gone, and kiss her lips and take her hand, and we'll walk through long dappled grass and pick til time and times are done, the silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun. " That of course is nothing but heresay, and this of course is goodbye urlLink (i'm in the forground with the color co-ordinated pupils and shirt) . --=>more new york observations to come and a prescription for clear headedness.... listening to: devendra barnhart and jolie holland 
