I've officially been in NYC for...24 days. That's insane, especially considering all the shit I've done since September 4th. And you'll have to forgive me--this is definitely going to be less eloquent than my normal posts. I think the City is currently in the chewing phase of the whole 'New York will chew you up and spit you out again and again until you smack it in the side of the head and tell it 'Fuck you, fucking stop it'. So bear with me. I'm so tired. So happy, but so tired.
Let me start out by saying New York City is everything I imagined it to be and so so SO much more. I've been constantly on the go. Getting off the train, getting back on the train. Bar after bar after bar. Person after person after person. I decided if I ever write a memoir of my time in this city it will be called "Back to the Train Again". That or "New York City Tried to Kill Me" (I mean that in the best way possible).
Basics: I live in Washington Heights, a primarily Dominican (read: Spanish-speaking) neighborhood at the very top of Manhattan (in white below).
Every time I tell someone where I live, I get one of two reactions: "Oh shit, that's up there" and "I used to/have friends who used to live up there". I love my neighborhood. As a little white girl roaming around by myself, I get a lot of looks and a lot of various forms of attention. The first day I was here I was told "vayate"(go away) by an old man and "ooo chica, hola, where you goin'?" by some dude wearing Ray-Bans in the same block. The people around here are not afraid to speak their mind, and they're around CONSTANTLY. I sleepily get off the A train (conveniently located a block away from my apartment building) at 5am after going out, and the same group of guys that were outside my building when I left at around 5pm are still there. Chilling, passing a joint. Doing their thing. I wave 'hi' and stagger inside because they know me. This has been the last three weeks of my life.
My building is on the corner of Broadway, one of the most prominent streets in Manhattan. The few blocks north and south of my building are lined with delis (that sell SUPER cheap, amazingly delicious sandwiches and overpriced beer), bodegas (little convenience stores that have seriously everything-- from makeup to furniture), restaurants, clothing stores...fucking everything. I could walk a 6 block radius around my building and find everything I could ever need. One could survive in Washington Heights and never know an outside world existed (not my intention, but it's true).
My 5th floor apartment is A DREAM. A huge living room, a nice kitchen, two full bathrooms, and my bedroom is bigger than any bedroom I've ever had in my life. I have three massive windows that look over Broadway and if you're ever walking down my street, it's likely that if you look up, you'll see me leaning halfway out of one of them, watching New York City bustle by below me. And did I mention I'm living with my best friend? Yeah. That's pretty amazing.
God, but what have I done since I've been here? Really though...what haven't I done? I have two jobs so far. I got the first one nine days after moving to the city. I am the Operations Manager of the viral Youtube music channel Collective Cadenza. It's three amazing guys who are bringing their passion project to life and fucking KILLING IT. Check out their videos, they're incredible. Basically, I manage their emails, attend shoots (their studio is the in penthouse of a building in Times Square), and basically just do whatever they need. I'm also required to party with them (the job description read: sometimes we drink booze. they were being modest with the 'sometimes'). The first night I chilled with them we got dinner, fucking ran a bar called Bedlam until 2:30am, then went to a club that had a $40 entry fee and proceeded to do what you do at clubs: dance our asses off, drinks in hand. 7am rolled around I spent the cab ride home watching New York City wake up with wide eyes and dilated pupils.
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| Photo from our shoot with FuseTV on Monday. Matt (behind me), Michael (with the creepy baby) and Joe (front and center) are like the big brothers I never had. |
Yes. This is my life.
My second job starts tomorrow. I'll be working at the Bowery Electric, a venue located a few doors down from where the infamous CBGB used to be (could that be any more perfect?). I'm not totally clear on what I'll be doing yet. This is the gist of the interview I had with them on Tuesday:
Me: Hey, I'm Lauren, I have an interview with Amy,
Amy: Hi. I'm Amy. What's your experience in the music industry?
Me: I worked as a copywriter at a jazz club over the summer. I wrote all their press releases, ads, web content, newsletters...
Amy: We need someone to do that. What's your availability?
Me: Pretty much whenever.
Amy: We need someone Tuesdays and Fridays. Can you come in on Friday?
Me: Yeah, sure. That works for me.
Amy: Okay, see you Friday at 1.
Me: ...okay?
I'll keep you all updated.
Let's see...other highlights. I stayed up drinking until 10am on someone's rooftop in Brooklyn (and then went in for an interview for a job that I was offered but haven't decided if I want yet), went to Kieran Culkin's birthday party (yes, 'Mac', as he introduced himself, Culkin was there), drunkenly made out with a random dude on the subway, got my first black eye since I was like 7...yeah. I can count the number of times I've been home before 3am on one hand.
The weirdest thing about all of this is I've been so busy that I haven't even had time to reflect on anything. Today was the first time I didn't leave the Heights since I moved here and I spent most of it recovering under the covers in my bed (my body hates me from the constant walking around, running up steps in subway platforms, drinking, dancing, etc., etc). It's hard to think about Minneapolis and all my friends there because I feel so far removed from it all, and every time a flicker of a thought about anything that happened more than a month ago crosses my mind I feel really strange. It's almost like I can't remember anything outside of this city. I'm sure it's all just some weird form of culture shock that I'm going through and a more relaxed, sane-person adjustment period will come soon, but it's hard foresee that at this point. I'm thinking it will come once my life gets more scheduled and I have less time to lose track of time wandering around some new neighborhood, or can no longer afford to be at the bar and look at my phone and realize FUCK when did it become 4am?! (yeah, bar close not really existing here is really making hard to realize when it's time to go home).
So yeah. That's that. This is what I've been doing. Given a minute to sit and think about it, it's overwhelming. I feel an odd sense of displacement, like what am I doing here? Where is my place in this beast of a city? But I also know I don't want to be anywhere else. How could I? There is so much for me here, and I've already done so much to start finding it. And bitches, you should know I'm not one to speak too highly of myself, but I'm fucking killing it.
Here's to the adventure that is sure to be the next few days/weeks/months/years of my life.
(Inspiration for the title of this post comes from this song. New York really is a concrete jungle-- some wild-ass shit is lurking around under this canopy of glass and concrete. And the video is filmed at CBGB.)
