Everything really does happen in Manhattan

I'm in New York! And on a very different note to my last holiday season post...


Happy 4th of July! Today I woke up late after my first sleep in about 36 hours. I'm staying with my aunt's friend Maggie who lives on the Lower East Side in Manhattan. She is a journalist and photographer who lives in an artist collective 3rd floor walk up. 'Walk up' means no elevator. Figures. Maggie works at the Mercury Lounge on East Houston (pronounced 'Howston') and she knows EVERYONE. it's very impressive. For example, I showed Maggie an underground travel guide to the LES (Reverend Jen's Very Cool Neighbourhood) that I purchased online a few months ago and Maggie said, 'Oh, Jen! I haven't seen her around for a while.' And today I asked Maggie if she knew Richard Kern the photographer, and she said 'Yeah, Richard rented a room on the ground floor just the other month.' Crazy.

I have had my own brush with fame as well. My plane was delayed at Sydney airport for 3 hours which meant that I missed my connection at LA to NY. On the rebooked American Airlines flight I was sitting next to a man that moved and read at a frightening speed. When the hostess denied his request to purchase some business class nuts (they are crazy about the class system in the US) I offered him my paltry Starbucks smoked almonds, which he gratefully accepted. we got talking and he found out I was a writer and I found out he was an editor. he asked me to proofread a story and tell him if it was interesting. later I got talking about zines and he asked if I had any with me and I offered him 'In Sickness' which he read, and loved! AND... offered to publish the conclusion in his magazine, Trace: http://www.trace212.com/ What the fuck? I'm networking like a fiend and my plane hasn't even landed yet. To loosely quote Kundera, the birds of fortuity have alighted on my shoulders. I rang Claude today and he said I'd be famous in 3 weeks. We'll see about that. I think you need to be pretty tough to last here. On the plane over I was thinking about my goal for the year (to toughen the fuck up) and I thought to myself 'I more closely resemble a bag of jellyfish.'

Tonight I tested my toughs by spending a whole TEN MINUTES on my own in the city. After we watched the fireworks from Fresh Salt, a bar near the harbour that Maggie's friend owns, I headed uptown with some Asian guys I met at the bar. They seemed pretty friendly, if a little annoyed at my insistence on stopping to pat a giant fluffy black dog and a tiny little terrier, as well as talking to a kid about his golden retriever. We caught the subway - air-conditioned to icy bliss after the clinging humid streets - and ended up in a bar that serves 5 shots of anything for $10. It even says that on the sign above the door. I went to the bathroom and when I got back they had ditched me! I guess I namedropped 'boyfriend' too often (to avoid excess knee-rubbing) and they realised there was nothing in it for them anymore. Instead, I was followed around the bar 5 times by a creepy Latino guy who wanted to buy me a beer. I gave him the slip, asked the bouncer how to use a payphone and went to call Claude, who was at home (in his Wall St Condo with swimming pool) and then I hopped in a cab, tipped the driver 5 times more than I should have because I was so relieved I hadn't been abducted/shot/stabbed/raped and now, here I am stealing someone's wi fi. I tell you what, guys - this is the life. I love this city and its people. Even the jerks are friendly!

did I mention I saw Sonic Youth and the Feelies in Battery Park today? It was a good show. Did I mention I haven't paid for a drink since I got here, and have been well blasted both nights? That's pretty good too. And, writerly folk (or readerly folk...) the books here are so damn cheap! Five bucks will buy you a decent read. 10 bucks tops. Given how close our dollar is to these guys, we may as well move here en masse and enjoy our culture straight from the hub.

The architecture here is so impressive. I feel more powerful and important just walking the streets. New York stinks, but I'm so enthralled that even a blast of wood smoke and rat meat from a hot dog vendor smells fine. Most impressive so far is the diversity of races, language, culture. Sydney is very fucking white in comparison. And strangely enough, I love all the uniforms. The police and even security are far better dressed. They have starched white shirts with red lapels and gold-embossed nametags with matching red and gold hats. A baby-faced Hispanic cop with straight, white teeth told us we couldn't walk down a particular road due to closures for July 4 and I was like, 'How can I be mad at him?' A strategic move by NYPD, methinks.

Tomorrow my plans are, well... not much. Maggie's off to work. I'll call Claude and see if he's not working, though knowing New York, he probably is. City of anxious overworkers - now that sounds like my kinda place. And it doesn't hurt that everyone is enthralled by the Australian accent. Truly, we are a lucky nation.

I strongly urge anyone who hasn't travelled to do so ASAP! It's not nearly as scary as you might think. I had one freaky moment on the way here - I forgot to take my laptop out of my bag when I came through customs at LA, and so I guess they thought I was trying to smuggle something. so they made me stand in front of the NAKED X-RAY MACHINE! It is like being strip searched without taking your clothes off. Who knows what kind of dangerous rays that thing emits. And who cares - they only use it on potential terrorists, right? There I was, shoeless, being naked screened, feeling about as vulnerable as one can in the face of stern customs officers, but I made it through. Shocked and transfixed, I sat on my chair and waited for the next flight (after I purchased the fated almonds). But hey, at least I made it into the country.

And I'll be leaving all too soon, for Montreal. I'm meeting Dane and Claire, Jo and Jason for a week, then coming back here and showing off all my street cool. Thank you, New York Moleskine. Thou hast saved my clueless arse many times thus far.