I'm feeling a bit bleary this morning. It was a stressful week at work with more cutbacks and more heads on the chopping block, more pressure to perform, more anxiety about being the next victim. I find it wearing and depressing. It makes me wonder (more than usual) why I'm going through this joyless daily grind, which leaves me feeling depleted and unable to enjoy the great bounty of New York. Like everyone else, I'm struggling to achieve some balance in my life, and to not let worries about work consume me. It's difficult when one is tired to motivate to do the things that bring so much pleasure - a gallery opening, a new restaurant, a dinner date with a friend. But one must do them, as these are the joys that compensate for the difficulties of living in this ornery city.
Small steps of progress this week: seeing The Fifth Column (Hemingway's first and last play - for good reason) with Fauxhawk and my parents, followed by dinner at the venerable showbiz hangout, Joe Allen. At the table next to ours was "Big Pussy" Bonpensiero from the Sopranos, who was joined by several worshipful and nebbishy hangers on. My mom waved to her old agent, said hello to Noel Coward's casting guy, and seemed happily ensconced among other New York actors and theater people. My parents are devoted New Yorkers who staunchly defend this city as the best place to raise children. They get more pleasure from living here than anyone I know. I love them for that.After working until 2am Wednesday night, I was feeling less than perky on my way to meet my cousin for dinner at Freemans last night. Situated at the end of a slightly sinister alley, the restaurant has a wonderful cozy/creepy atmosphere that channels Dickens' Miss Havisham.
A taxidermied swan is ready to take flight, a wasp's nest hangs precariously above a corner table, broody bouquets of dark, velvety flowers grace the bar. The food is good enough to roll around in - lovely baked artichoke dip (was there ever a better comfort food?), lemony broiled cod, and pork with dried apricot compote and collard greens.
After finishing with a fragrant pear and apple crisp, we lingered outside to admire the pots of spring bulbs - daffodils, muscari, hyacinths.
A man from Amsterdam smoked beside me. He seemed vaguely miserable.
"It's crowded in there," he said.
"Yes - it's madness. But I enjoyed my dinner tremendously."
"It's my first day in New York," he said, looking at his shoes.
"Well, I think you landed in the right place. This is an auspicious start."
"You think so?"
"Oh yes. You have so many treasures in store for you."
For a moment, I felt a pang of envy - I wanted to feel the excitement of an unknown New York stretching out before me. I wanted to hug him and tell him all about the enchantments, the charms, the secrets of this big bad city.
But I didn't - because hugging strangers in New York is like opening a big bag of crazy. And because the fun is in discovering the secrets yourself.
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Many, many thanks to the lovely and wickedly smart Diana, whose blog Diana:Muse is a source of inspiration and delight to her devoted readers (of which I am one). Diana, your mention of this blog (and another of my favorites, Passementerie) made my week. Big hug of thanks to you.
Diana:Muse photo montage by Ez at Creature Comforts, another brilliant, inspiring blog.