It's been seven months since i boarded the plane in the UK and set foot for a new start here in the U.S of A. Seven months. I want to say "My hasn't it flown by" but today feel like I've been here forever. NY is one of those towns I think. You're here for a day and in a blink of an eye it turns into a lifetime. Goodness that scares me so.
The emotions, the feeling, the thoughts that go through my brain and body change daily in this city; they change so much at times I find myself standing perfectly still, trying to catch glimpses of the sky that i know is above me somewhere between the metal rods and wooden planks of the scaffold and shiny glass finishings of the busy office blocks. There are times where i am standing perfectly still, just to try and stop my head from spinning.
And of course there is home. I mean my home in NY not my real home back at home. The house, with it's quirky slightly bohemian (but not too bohemian) exposed brick walls, open kitchen and walk in closet. This isn't what i signed up for - living in luxury with my en suite bathroom in the middle of poor Spanish Harlem where most apartments on the block have three children to a small bedroom. This isn't what my NY experience should be. It's too good - I'm a princess in the middle of (and excuse me for my snobbery) in the midst of paupers. Where is my one bedroom box flat? Where are the struggling artists keeping me up all night with the sounds of guitars? Or bonking painters keeping me awake all night with the sounds of his muse screaming her ecstasy for all in the block to know that she was his muse (but just for tonight).
Where has my muse gone? Actually I don't think I ever really had one. Maybe that's why I'm here. Yes I think it must be so. I came to NY to hunt out my muse, my fire, my drive. Instead, what have I found? Self indulgence, self obsession, narrow mindedness and maybe even a hint of self pity. No, there is certainly a big pinch of self pity in this cocktail. I have never spoken or thought about myself so much in all my life.
Then there is my man... but that's a whole new essay, for a whole new day.
Tonight I'm tired.
Tonight I will sleep.
Nos Da.
