i heard that ryan adams song on the radio on the way back to lachlan's parents house today, and it always makes me teary. i listened to it about 15 times on the flight between NY and sydney, staring at the seat in front of me, dozing, writing in this diary we had to keep about the sky below me, the space between lachlan and i, and the brisbane i had to face when i returned.
i really think of my weeks in NY as the best of my life. really. i mean, it was the last, completely innocent weeks i ever had, the last happy space without that... flood that came in when the straw broke the camels back. it was before i fucked up, fucked the people i loved over, and got fucked over. in some other order. it was... a divine city of busy implosion, of movement and sound and smell, and snow that covered the crossroads in the time it took to order a burger.
new york was walking down broadway in the snow, the light catching flakes falling on top of me, all these snowflakes illuminated by gaudy billboards. and salt crunching below my feet. of realising that i didn't need to be beautiful, or be a princess, or be any linguistic creation because i was happier there than i had ever been before with those titles. sitting on the subway one night, thrown back by the speed, next to someone who became my best friend i had ever had in a matter of hours, i realised how much more i liked myself alone. and i feel that i have remained- not alone - but seperate in a way that has helped me move forward.
the christmas trees on the courner, the abundance of bookstores, the chelsea markets, the subway, the food, the organic supermarkets, the speed, the concrete urban jungle, sprawling parks around every second courner,....
you know, i am not a bad person. i feel like i am, a hell of a lot of the time. but i hear that song, i think back to new york, before i felt like some evil witch cursing the fallen angels, when i was just given this precious space.... and god it was good. it makes me want to run back there every time i think of it.
i mean, i was confused as fuck. i was delirious, and sleep deprived, and hungry, and confused. and confused. but god it was good. it was the magic that new york casts upon many wayward travellers.
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You are too young to consider yourself a fuckup. We all make mistakes, small ones and big ones. We all get screwed over periodically. Some of the scars we carry with us for the rest of our lives, and some of them never heal properly.
But you aren't too old for new beginnings. I keep thinking of people in wars, people who lose their families, their possessions, who are betrayed by supposed friends and neighbors. Yet they go to a foreign country with all their pain and start over with nothing. New beginnings are possible. I believe in new beginnings. I think it's only when we stop believing in them that we really get in trouble.
I'm not much for New York City, but I miss upstate New York. One day, we'll go back there. It will be wonderful.
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