[Gryphon NY sequined vest w/ t-shirt via Shobop + Pilcro roll ups + Sam Edelman Louie boots + Vanessa Mooney.]
A few last armpittish days of summer left, and I’m dragging Rob all over Richmond on a tour of ‘things we’ve never done before’ prior to parting ways for 2 months on Friday.
And no, I’m not holding up particularly well.
In knife-twisting addition to the pain of Bobo’s Oregon departure, I’m heading up to NYC next week, solo—totally beaming to see buds we haven’t seen since we moved (yo… visit, you creeps); be at an incredible, bucolic winery wedding upstate; and walk my Steppenwolf t-shirt all over the village looking for records. Normally you’d expect this to be followed by a series of tiny claps, but I’m pretty anxious, and a touch resentful—mostly sad I won’t be with Rob (traveling single-style after you’ve been married is unsavory; I’m crotchety). Going there with him over the last few years finally made me fall in love with the place for real—harder than you can when you’re from Florida and 17 and naive and you’ve never even been, but you think you know. Harder than a girl’s weekend when you can bottom out your budget and head home before you’re really ready.
I lived there once for a month.
I cried in stairwells.
But I dug her again.
Anyway, like the big bitch at school, New York City mostly makes me feel like I’ve got, say, fleas. A totally manageable case of fleas, but one of which could go rogue at any moment in a sushi joint and bounce off someone’s microdermabrased cheek. I like Richmond because I think Richmond likes me. My fleas are totes cool in the RVA. If that’s lame, I don’t wanna be cool.
But seriously, what is it about New York City? I don’t want to live there, but I feel like not living there is some unspoken concession of one’s inability to ‘cut it.’ What’s the deal? Why does traveling to one place make me begin to consider fillers, injectables, WhiteStrips and other shit I don’t have time for? I’m something like 23 lbs too heavy to even think about packing for New York City.
But, I mean, let’s do this.
I’m soft in my old age, you guys. Just need my Bo.
So join me in counting down til his return: Good luck in Oregon in harvest 2013, Roberto! We all love you. Keep your fleas out of the rosé.
-C.
Trolling the Village for records and books is one of my favorite things to do on the planet.
Bleecker Street Records is a well known, but personal favorite.
There is an energy in NYC that I’ve never experienced anywhere else. It’s intangible of course, but there is something about that place…I don’t know, it’s like an electricity that other places just don’t possess.
Thought I could live there many moons ago…I probably would have loved it for a spell. But as I’ve grown older, I must confess that I’m not so sure I could have hacked it. I wouldn’t think about it now. I like space, which is in short supply on the Island. But man is it an awesome place to spend a long weekend.
It’s that time of year again?!? What the hell have I done with my life since reading about Rob’s last OR trip??? :-/
You are going to have a blast with your fleas in NYC!!
Can’t wait for updates from you both.
OR trip already? Where the hell has the time gone? Best of luck Rob. And C…..NYC will welcome your hippy fleas with open arms!! 😉
I’m so glad you and your fleas ventured to Gowanus (and Williamsburg, Meatpacking, Tribeca and Brooklyn Heights, etc).