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Week 4 in nyc

taken by John Spain

July comes like an AMEX statement – not unexpected and not desired. 2 interviews during the week, neither of which were interviews per-se. Filling out forms at a temp agency that either treats their temps somewhat humanely or is good at lying. This was preceded by lunch with a guy who seems to think he can line me up a job at a major non-profit but not for a few months, possibly with some volunteering between now and then. In short: progress was made but I’m no closer to making next month’s rent.

The city is lonesome. Animal Tropical are in town and on the metaphorical couch for the weekend. The bassist just left to wander and eat a “good meal,” both being commendable tourist goals. I mulled this before realizing that people here fall for one another quickly not just because it makes rent cheaper but because you need to fall in love to keep make this city feel magical, lest you wind up spending most of your time alone.

I’m becoming mildly xenophobic. So many people have their heads shoved so far up their asses that I’d rather just avoid people entirely rather than risk having to deal with jerks. I came up wanting to smile at every face I saw and be as gregarious as possible and it’s not happened yet really. The environment here seems not to tolerate people who are anything but hyperconfident regarding their identity.

Last night one of my roommates asked me if I was for sure staying. It was one of those moments where you realized a question was half formed on your tongue when someone else voices it for you. I told her that in no way could I see myself going back to Miami, but that I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my doubts. After three weeks of floating in limbo, we agreed there was nothing wrong with that.

Despite all this, despite the dirt, despite the obnoxious people the city draws like flies to a garbage bag in the summer sun, despite being semi-broke – there are moments that shine like an uncirculated quarter. I went to a “formal” dinner party in which I was the only one who actually dressed up (and was the only person who was aghast at 1 person segregating themselves to both to cook and clean) and I looked at myself in the mirror of a bathroom on the third floor of a Graham Avenue studio, wearing a skinnyish silver tie and high off of two successful interview type things, and smiled at the fact that I was here, I was alive, and that I’ve only barely started.

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Comment

u are so french

nathan lam vuong · Jul 10, 06:16 PM · #

Yep. You’ve just about hit the week 4 mark on the emotional calendar. I’ve been there. One month into NY is when shit starts to feel “real”. Your funds start to dwindle, job prospects are dismal because its the summer and anyone with money and thus, hiring, has flocked to a summer home somewhere upstate.
Hang in there. You’ll feel better, then crappy again, then better. But tell yourself that its part of being living and will make you stronger in the end. Once you get your shit together, you’ll feel like a freakin warrior.

— lila · Jul 12, 04:14 PM · #

Cheers to the future!

— Tasha · Jul 12, 11:07 PM · #

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