“Each man reads his own meaning into New York.” Meyer Berger
Headed to the big apple to visit mon frère and his wonderful wife. A trip that will most certainly be filled with a random off Broadway show, a Yankees game, and a Great Gatsby party with sequins, cigarettes, martini cocktails & mint juleps. Sigh.An amazing city where you can go out, drink 4 boisson and pay the tab by throwing down a $100 dollar bill. Yes, that is a real photo I took after an aperitif at The Algonquin last fall.
A city where you can step outside and within three blocks, eat any type of food that you wish, be threatened in some fashion, buy a pack of American Spirits for $19.89, and find someone who is willing to sell their soul for Radiohead tickets.
A city that can–but probably shouldn’t–give you everything you need in life.
It’s strange when you can go to place and feel the history. It feels comfortable and yet exciting and new. I took this photo of the Brooklyn Bridge last fall–a very very cliche photo to take–and it’s a prime example of how a place can remain the same through time, but change in its meaning and purpose for all who encounter it. New York is a city where people go to find themselves, to lose themselves, or to just have an effing good time.
Art, culture, life. Turn the corner during a trip to the MOMA and you are in awe of Jasper Johns’ Flag that means so much more because it hangs at 11 West 53rd. America is New York.
Let’s also call attention to one of the most amazing movies that is based in New York, An Affair To Remember with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. Handsome playboy Nicky Ferrante and beautiful night club singer Terry McKay have a romance while on a cruise from Europe to New York. Despite being engaged to other people, both agree to reunite at the top of the Empire State Building in six months. However, an unfortunate accident keeps Terry from the reunion, and Nicky fears that she has married or does not love him anymore. Will he discover the truth behind her absence and reunite with his one true love, or has fate and destiny passed them by?
New York I love you.
Posted in Lifestyle, Travels
Tagged Adventure, Art, Coney Island, Culture, Frank Sinatra, My Brother, New York City, Photography, The Literary Man, Traveling
This is real people.
So during the time my brother and I were attempting to successfully pass through Erikson’s 5th stage of psychosocial development of Identity vs. Role Confusion (facing the questions Who Am I? What Can I Be? which all late teens and early twenty-somethings ask subconsciously) there was and additional question/fear of “will I go crazy when I turn 21?” that we each had. You see, as psychology majors, one of the first things that you learn is that most psychological/psychiatric issues surface by the age of 21. It was like waiting to see if a mental time bomb was about to go off. I’m not trying to make light of the issue (as I am a therapist), but when you are an impressionable youth immersed in studies of the abnormal functions of the brain, you start to wonder about yourself.
Should I have a “late in life” transition to cat ladydom, I worry that my psychiatric admit note would be quite similar to the one above.
“The only normal people are the ones you don’t know very well.” -Alfred Adler
I recall a story my father would tell to some boyfriends over the years. It was a story of my “cute” dysfunction as a child. Well really it was our family’s dysfunction, but I was the one who shed some light on the subject (pun intended).
Per our family history, when I was around 4 or 5 years old, my family (consisting of my parents and my older brother) went to my uncle and aunt’s house for the evening to visit and have dinner. My older brother was the type of child that regularly created mischief and noise, while I was quite the “perfect” little girl (so I’ve been told), being able to entertain myself quietly and without getting into trouble in these types of social situations. However, at some point in the evening, it was noticed that I had been in the kitchen unaccompanied for quite some time. The fact that this was noted as unusual for a child who is able to entertain themselves safely means it was probably quite a long time I was gone before they noticed.
And so my dad enters the kitchen to find me standing at the refrigerator opening and closing the door, over, and over again. Apparently I look up and state quite excitedly “Look! There’s a light in there!” At which time my dad realizes that I have grown up to believe that looking into a dark refrigerator (due to a broken bulb) is completely normal. I’d like to say that my family went and bought a new refrigerator bulb at that point, but I’m sure this story was told time and time again when my various friends and boyfriends came over during the years because they asked why we didn’t have a light in our fridge…
That being said, I walked into my parent’s house this past weekend and was immediately met with a “normal” image from my childhood.
Apparently it’s not normal to have sails spread out all over the living room either. That is, unless you’re a family full of sailors.
“I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.” –Popeye the Sailor Man