by David Huebner
My two week stay in NYC, a bum that was not so bummin'...
A journal...sort of...
My first full day in NYC, was beautiful, in a city sense of way, of course totally different from a mountain sense of beauty which is what I'm used to, but a day of walking, walking, walking, seeing the World Trade Center, then cruising through China Town-buying a Swiss watch copy for ten bucks, and eating a nice lunch in Little Italy. All with my man Jimmy and his friend. Spent a bit, will try to ease up on that department, gotta make it all last a couple weeks so...
Sitting here on a fold out looking out the window of Jimmy's pad at Central Park, amazing, of course only amazing for a city. At home I look out at 12 and 13 thousand-foot peaks and meadows and cliffs and Junipers. But who's comparing? They've each got their own populace of peoples who love why they're there. Here in this city, things are happening or people are at least pressured to make things happen, so there's an energy, maybe only apparent to the visitor as the resident only gets used to it, and grows grey, bald, and impatient, or moves, but I don't know anything. I've only been here hardly at all.
Donald Trump is I guess the Man around here, the most famous New Yorker. My man Jimmy wants to BE HIM. Or something like that. But tonight I talked to my bro and we met at Julliard where he goes to school, and went and had a couple brews at a nearby bar. Talked about summers, and my previous winter, and his going to Paris soon, and what's happening in New York, concerts, and all that jazz. It was great. I mean, he's my brother, he's an amazing pianist, and I get to hang out with him on my own, on the fly, free as a pollution sucking bird.
But I'll end it here, looking out at lights, hearing sirens, old brakes, car horns, and the dull blackness of Central Park; a bum in the city, livin' it up for just a while.
Livin' it up livin' it up, yes, a bum in the city, went to cafe wha? tonight, till the band shut down, 2:30am, great house band, anything from disco to Hendrix to a brother on the mic doing beat box like nobody's business, made Fat Boys look like kids on the street tryin' to make a dime. It's raining, or was, or will be soon, rain in the city, can be beautiful; in a city way. Rain in the mountains is pure poetry. The Greatest City on Earth probably doesn't get any better with rain.
Had a vodka martini listening to good music, surely far from Van the Man Morrison, king of everything unexplainable except with the words SOUL and LIFE and LOVE and FREEDOM; not Van but good all the same, vodka martini, rolled in at midnight, sat down 12:30, some Israeli women across from us, Jimmy got rejected (yes if you can bel'eedAt! 'cause surely Jimmy can't), me a martini then a Corona with lime, and I was happy, groovin' lovin' the sounds, it's all the city, it's all new, and strange, and not new, but old, but an old I only knew existed but never experienced, and now I'm experiencing it, a swinger, truly, rollin' around splittin' twenties like a god damn ATM. Not really, just had to express that fact of the sitch. Anyhow, great night, vodka martini, awesome music, and rain in the city; all in a day in the life of your average NYC night owl, but experienced by your average bum, bum of the mountains, a bum in the city.
Clouds pass over Central Park, rain is falling lightly, lights don't twinkle like they do at home, I guess I'm too close, anyway, falling moon, falling lids, peace.
So we partied last night, as in we: Eric, Mason, Bridget, Katherine, Billy, Brent, Alpin, Andria, Billy's visiting friend, and some other guy I can't remember. It all started at O'Neils with a round or two of drinks and some food, then the long subway ride to Eric and Bridget's neighborhood, in which we made a scene on the subway, as Billy is very excitable, and laughs loudly, and was constantly joking around driving some people nuts, and then we got here and the festivities began. Wisdom was passed around, Alpin did his weird mind games on everybody, the music was Ronnie Size, and the time ticked on by. It was probably past 3 am when I finally went to bed. Fun times in uptown Manhattan, way uptown.
The recital beforehand, Maria and Bridget's joint recital was great. Eric wearing this orange shirt that looked very retro seventies, played well. The other pianist Stewart was also good on this massive Beethoven Sonata with Maria. I was the Man From The Mountains, come down to the regular city world, looking surpassingly good in my city outfit, as they expected me to be a bit more rugged.
All in all it was great fun, cheaper than my usual night, which is good, cause I'm down to about 2to300 dollars for another week, and man it would be nice to have some left over afterwards. And I have yet to go to the Hamptons which could cost me more or less I don't know. Anyway, tired, but happy, Eric's place is nice.
[and that's it, I only wrote about Manhattan for a little bit, and then I was too tired from late nights and not quite late enough mornings...but there you have a brief window into the crazy world of NYC being experienced by me the bum, somehow blessed with just enough cash to make it there stay a couple weeks and make it back broke. I wouldn't recommend living least if you're at all inclined in my general attitude...]

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