"Farewell to the City and the Love of My Life"

So this is it. My last 19 hours in Manhattan before I leave for college. I have my boxes and bags, my guitar, everything. I'm really going.

Last week, after seeing Garden State with Laura, I took the 1 train to 12th and 7th. (I really don't know why I didn't tell this story before. Maybe I was saving it for a really good post.) I decided that, instead of risking the path of the erratic L train, I would walk home from there, and kind of miander through Greenwich Village. I guess I was just feeling really confused, and the song on my iPod ("Don't Wanna Know Why" by Whiskeytown) was really introspective. So I came upon this old building on Waverly Place, near Bond Street I think. How could I have never noticed something so beautiful before? Some old mail depository that was now a dentists office? An appartment building? I don't remember, but it was the epitome of old time, five-points New York.

And I just sat on the curb and didn't cry.

Yeah, I sat on the curb. On the corner, feet on the gutter, skirt dangerously high, warmth of the sidewalk creeping down my thighs, and I didn't cry. What I did experience was far more powerful than crying. It was that moment before you start crying. No, the moment before the moment before you start crying. My face wasn't tense, my eyes weren't teary. I just felt this warmth on the roof of my mouth, and this floating feeling that I was sure would end soon. It's that moment when you realize that at any moment you're going to have some huge, life changing thought and will just start bawling. But that thought never came. I just sat there, for about five minutes, Ryan Adams and his band telling me to "breathe in / breathe out / carry on / carry out / try to drive through your mind."

I think people were looking at me weird, with my head buried in my hands and the late afternoon sun beating on my neck. But no one stopped. I got up and walked the rest of the way home as the roof of my mouth slowly cooled down, realizing how much I love this place. It will never stop for me. It will never acknowledge me. But it's still mine. Apartments, restaurants, bars, stores, laws, men will all come and go. New York is forever.

And so ends my sappy goodbye.