What is it about a song, that makes me at once happy and sad, and urges me to start writing (or blogging)? Every time I put the headphones in, my hands itch to start typing.I have been hesitant to blog the weekend in New York -- and the events shortly before and after -- because I just don't know where it begins and ends. There is so much to tell. Things that revolve around frustration, happiness, freneticism, longing, excitement. I started and ended the trip feeling overwrought. But everything in between made me feel very alive. As is always the case, when the plane landed, I got the usual sweeping calm. Back in LA.
It'll all come out in bits and pieces, as most of my stories do. Today I remembered Janet and myself walking back to the East Village after the compulsory visit to the Marc Jacobs on Bleecker. I had a Gray's Papaya hot dog in my hand and was chomping down on it. A man began following us, softly singing.
Why are Asian women so beautiful?
Do you believe in interracial love?
I'll be John, and you can be Yoko.
We were stifling laughter while quickening our pace. And then when we rounded the corner, laughed much more heartily, singing it over and over again. That's New York poetry.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 6:18 PM
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