New York
Published November 29, 2024
I was in the line to check in, in England still and American extraversion was already here.
I didn't want to talk but the ease and naturalness of American extraversion quickly hit me.
Ah, American extraversion. This is what human interaction can be.
AMERICA. Even the introverts are extraverts.
I had a scratch on my hand.
I bought some trash calories and a can of sugar and coffee at Boots.
It was nearly bedtime anyway. Early afternoon. I hoped the plane was quiet and the people around me had some levels of decency and sense.
Angels exist.
They wanted to sit next to each other. I agreed. Middle seat swapped for window. A great and mighty big blue Atlantic all the way through.
The last time I was in America was before the pandemic in 2019 and it was summer.
I felt uncomfortable then. In my Vietnamese ex-girlfriend’s t-shirt (the one she used as a dress) and a feeling of ickiness within my skin.
I don't know why. There was a bubbling metallic angst inside me.
I saw Twice in New Jersey and watched Liverpool at Yankee Stadium. I had a really great night of booze and weed and friendship. But New York didn't feel AS magical as previous visits, the magic was there but not constant! It was more akin to the fractured magic of my first visit in 2006 than the electric insanity of 2013. Electric Insanity!!!
This time around I felt that feeling of being in America. Of being in New York City. Immediately. The steam rose across the setting sun and the skyscrapers of Manhattan were waiting for me on the horizon.
It was election day. Tuesday November 5th 2024. Donald John Trump versus Kamalalalalala Devi Harris. By the early morning hours of November 6th, America and the world would know just what future it was getting.
I checked into the hostel to the aged face of a woman that used to be hot. Sad. She was a bitch too. The personality of a once hot woman turned ug. Some of the worst. But I didn't care.
I stayed here in 2013 and had a terrible time. Then I moved to another hostel close to Central Park and had a fucking awesome time. I chose it now because the facilities were great and the location was perfect. And I didn't care for anything too social.
There was no buzz about the election on the streets of Manhattan.
A mix of quiet acknowledgement that Trump had the momentum and he'd probably win it. And the fact that New York City is a paradox, both America's largest and most important city and at the same time very separate from the USA. It's a distinct country itself - a city state within the American union.
If you don't know by now. Trump won. Lol. Beautiful.
I went to bed in the early morning hours. And hardly slept.
The next morning I headed to the South Ferry terminal for the Staten Island Ferry. New York was hot, not boiling, not muggy humid, but hot. In the mid-twenties in early November. The fuck!?
Climate change is a wonderful thing.
As I boarded the boat I spotted a building not too far in the distance.
From this angle it looked like a new set of twin towers had been built. They weren't, they haven't. But it looked like that.
We passed the teeny tiny, really way too small, shoulda been bigger,
gotta replace with a bigger green bitch Statue of Liberty and hammered on to Staten.
Water was blue, sky was too. Boat was fun. Boats are fun.
Out of the terminal I went to the nearby mall and Shake Shack. Ate a chicken burger, fries and drank a coke. Outside I flirted with a couple of nice Asian ladies, college students, and then a hot blonde American with an ugly friend. Then I went back to Manhattan.
After the ferry I walked to the Brooklyn Bridge.
There were so many hot bitches on the bridge, Hot Bridge Bitches, and I was very happy. A Hispanic one took her top off and swung her arse from side to side and gave me looks. That was nice. Her boyfriend also gave me looks.
It was my second time on the bridge and the first in daylight. Everything had a pink-grey filter to it. Sand-gold brick and perfect lines of steel wire.
Brooklyn was great, but I was more excited about the bridge up river.
The Brooklyn Bridge gets all the fame and love, and apparently all the hot bitches too, but The Manhattan is the king, The Manhattan is the queen.
A chain-link fence with cut-out holes runs the entire length of the pedestrian walkway, and gifts a special view to those willing to accept it - you walk slow here, you stop, you enjoy.
I love The Manhattan. That view. The subway yelling past every other minute. Not many people crowding it either. A pretty place for a perfect murder.
I left the dark blue steel and yellow-lit concrete and walked into a dark Chinatown.
This area has always felt dirty and devious.
Hot young Chinese bitches. Mouths fulla cum 'nd oyster sauce.
Happy days.
Dumplings burning and noodles boiling.
Old men perving about.
Nice place. Always.
I lost the streets on purpose and just walked.
East Village. Tisch. Tattoo whore. Tacos.
Where am I?
New York.
At some point I found a Subway station and took the train to Times Square.
Dehydrated. Bespeckled. I enjoyed the lights. Knowing I would have built it all bigger, bolder. More obnoxious.
AMERICA
A M E R I C A !!!!
I got back late, bought a shit burnt pizza slice from 7-Eleven and then a McDonald's meal.
I went out into the hostel’s backyard and took a look at my upcoming trip.
62 countries done so far
Now ahead my last permanently inhabited continent.
permanently inhabited continent. . . ugh
The plan was to hit nine countries from Colombia down and round and back up.
It all felt dead and cold. Cold and Dead.
I wasn't excited.
There wasn't a thing about it that I was genuinely looking forward to.
I sat on the picnic table, tinkering, rearranging, searching, researching, finding, finding nothing I wanted. I knew the difference. The difference between the mind planning, strategizing, finding solutions and the heart telling me a deeper truth. My heart was saying no. I didn't want to go. It wasn't for now. It wasn't it.
I booked a flight back to London. My mind still in a state of shock and bewilderment. What?
What the fuck!?
This has its own dedicated post, lots of revelations and transformations, a defining moment. Something needed.
You can read it and should read it, here.
I had another day and then another in New York. I'd spend them brilliantly. Return to England for a brief period and then be on my way again.
That Thursday and Friday I…
Central Park, clear plastic cup of coke. Aesthetic. Pleasing. Riverside Park, far superior. I sat on a chair and let the wind in. The long train out to Rockaway. The beach. End of the world, or something. A long line of mounted sand. Excavator's excavating. Spanish on the rocks. A setting sun. Star. Upper West, Upper Fucking West. Retro Diner. Bacon and eggs and fries. And coffee. A nice waiter, no tip. A long walk down Broadway. Union Square. Empire State.
I'll put this here and then we'll get high.
For the entire time I was in the city I got one or two hours of sleep a night, but even that's being generous. I wasn't sleeping.
And I didn't sleep until my last night in the city.
Time runs differently in New York. It really fucking does. Every moment has minutes within it. The days are long and full.
Leaves have personality and the plastic coke cups. And the green metal chairs in Riverside Park. Personality. Yeah.
Okay, now let's get high.
I bought my single can of weed and headed out the door, to the airport. To JFK.
I couldn't wait. I could wait. I didn't want to wait. I got off at the first AirTrain stop, whatever terminal it was didn't matter, wasn't mine. Didn't matter. Weed. Lemonade. WEEDONADE.
I entered the stool, took the can out of my bag, popped the lid and downed the green. Real sweet, Real nice. Real nice, Real sweet.
I crushed the can and put it back in my bag. Left the toilet and headed back to the AirTrain to catch the ride to my terminal. Terminal 7.
I was walking through to security starting to tingle when I remembered. Can. Weed. Still federally illegal. And illegal in England too.
Should I? Oh, why not, I want to get high in peace and quiet. I don't want no questions. I went back out to throw the can.
Situation gets bloody.
Situation got bloody.
I reached in and pulled the can out by the knife-sharp lip, oh shit. Nice slice.
The Bleed Begins.
The Bleed Began.
It wouldn't fucking stop.
Here I was, mind and body lifting off the ground, hand above my heart pressing rough toilet tissue to my index finger. Pressure. This isn't how I die. So who the fuck cares. Let it bleed, I'm HIGH AS FUCK.
I went through the circle machine so that all the nice TSA people could once again see my cock. They love my cock.
How high was I? How high did I look?
The Mexicans working at the Dunkin' Donuts gave me a hint…
“ese okay?” asked girl worker to guy worker.
“ese is okay!” I replied to the world.
My iced latte had no sugar. I had to go and get those sugar packets and put it in. But I was here now in this lounge place. But I was very high and my feet were fused to the ground. I had warm glowing orb slippers cream-glued to my feet.
I decided I liked the taste already. And I had donuts. And I was eating the donuts and taking lots of photos and videos of my donuts as I ate them. They were the best thing I've ever tasted in my entire life. Oh my. Whatta, thing.
As the blue-shirted TSA officers finished their lunch I had a thought. The reason America is safe from a large-scale, full out, true violent revolution.
‘The stormtroopers live among the people'
The stormtroopers are the people.
The announcements were metallic and moving. They had a twang to them.
What a word. TWANG.
My flight was soon. I needed drink and snack for skies. I left my happy donut chair. Green dreams.
As I looked for my drink and snack a woman came round a collection of magnets and cups or something…
‘She's chasing me’ I said in my head.
It really did look like it.
I laughed my arse off, picked it up, put it back on and LAUGHED IT OFF AGAIN! Marijuana. Okay. Yeah. Nice.
Substances can be very positive things. Medicine. Timing, Dose, Control.
On the plane, nobody was in the window seat. I slid over and claimed it again. Beautiful. I was very high now. The highest. Inside a giant device of flight.
A dream, A liner.
My entire body was aflame. I was the vibration and the vibration was me, and me was the vibration.
Off we went into the sky. America will be mine one day.
All of it.