It comes to one’s attention, quickly here by the Atlantic Ocean, that the only thing worth reading and the only thing worth writing is the truth. Almost as if you were about to die and if you didn’t tell the truth, then your life would not have been worth living.
There is something about living/visiting a dense community that fosters the truth. No one has the time for bullshit. This is the beauty of New York. Whereas, in LA, people are so afraid of being off-putting, in New York, it is expected that you are forthright. If you are not, you are not considered. At all. Of course, I grew up in the suburbs of this mentality, so I feel quite at home within it...but I must say, this old hat way of living is such a breath of fresh air. It’s not that the people at the bar are that interesting. Their concerns are the same as the concerns of most people in the United Sates: How can I get rich quick, and maybe even famous, and then do whatever I want, until I die?
Our country is sad.
But at least people talk.
This city is a loosener. My favorite image of today was that of Adam, my recognized-by-the-state-of-California-domestic-partner. It was time to clean the windows. So, while I input receipt amounts into Quickbooks-Pro, Adam Windexed. There are four big windows in the main room and one small one in the kitchen. Adam did all this in only his gray Gap underwear. I don’t know why. For some reason, Adam is prudish about his body in Los Angeles...like when he is in our back yard which is completely enclosed, he won’t run around naked, even though I encourage him to join me. But in New York City, he will stand on the window sills in nothing but his tighty-grayies. We are only four floors up.
Fact: There are but two gay bars left on the Upper West Side. We went to one called The Candle Bar. It was super skanky years ago. But now, since the only good bar in the neighborhood is gone, and the one that was super skanky is still super skanky, this one has come up in rank. Interesting.