Black Boots

And of all the things that you could have written about, and all the things that you should have said; all those damned things you wish you'd speak up about or fought harder for, or said hello to (yes, you on the subway) all of those things equal up to the moment when you are walking home alone with a peaceful mind. It takes a whole lot of shit, a cold, a skin virus, a bad stomach ache, a terrible situation and the possibility of things much worse for you to see a movie with a great friend, and laugh your ass off. It takes a whole lot riding home on the subway, exchanging pastries and leftover bread because you didn't have enough money to eat that night, and she worried about your stomach. It takes a whole lot of friendship and awareness to leave happy and smiling after a heavy subject. Friends can take heaviness lightly, when you need them to. And its the sound of your new black boots not lightly tapping, but punching the pavement beneath your feet as you walk by every closed window and locked door of Houston Street for you to realize that the life you live is great and not a single, solitary person or problem is going to snatch that from you. It's then you know you shouldn't have walked alone that night, and you know you shouldn't have stayed out that late because you have a million things to do the following day and a job to nail down and your whole future to figure out. But you also know it isn't about all of that. Not right now. Not this moment. Not when the whole city lays before you, quiet on a Sunday night and you suddenly let yourself realize that it has become a greater part of you than you would willing admit. For better, or for better. It's for that moment when, in the first time in months, you felt like you held up your head a little higher. That you got your confidence back for a while, not because of a guy looking at you, or your friends saying something nice: but because it just felt like the time to do it. Because you felt like you were ready to do it.

Countless people who have never been to New York City ask me if it's really anything like it is in the movies. I always tell them the same thing: New York City can be anything you want it to be. That's the thing about it, the movies can be all right and all wrong at the same time. Of course, anywhere can mean anything to anyone. But New York City is a pretty bold character, isn't he? Isn't she? With so much change going on right in the open and underneath the surface, sometimes you can confuse it with a living, breathing person. Always changing while they're changing.

I came home, took off my boots and noticed I had managed to trash the place in a single night. I told myself, outloud, good. Chaotic. Just like I like it. Then continued to clean up the dishes, my shoes, some clothes and drank water from a wine glass because I liked it like that too. It's cold even though the windows aren't open, and my tan socks stretched over my pleather-covered legs draw the cold in like a drafty fireplace. I drink my water and look around.

I'll get this all figured out.