I seem to have, in the last few weeks, encountered a lot of people who asked me if there was anything romantic going on in my life. I should have answered them all, “I’m in love New York.”
I’m having an unabashed love affair with this city. It’s incredible to be able to feel as lucky as I feel to be where you are. It’s inspiring and binding all at the same time. It moves you to write and then gives you too many options. It asks you questions and then gives you too many answers. The worst thing about living in New York is the excess, and I’m not just talking about the restaurant choices.
Walking through the streets this afternoon with friends on the way to the bookstore I was overwhelmed with happiness. The sun was out, there was a sprinkling of snow left over from the storm, it was cold like the winter should be, but comfortable. People on the streets were busying going every which way and the city just smelled of possibility. And I wanted to write a song about every one of the faces I saw. I wanted to stop them all and ask them where they were going. Where they lived, and for how long, what their favorite city street was.
But I didn’t, because sometimes it’s better to wonder. Our imaginations run rampant with little information, especially in a place like this.
So here I sit, my keyboard and myself. Trying to pick a path for the night. Trying to pick a tune. Which pick to I choose, which lyric do I write down, which thought ought I follow?
Sometimes indecisiveness is incredibly satisfying.
