New York City

The best time to make a decision (or perhaps the worst) is between 1 and 4 in the morning. I make many of my decisions then.
The most recent was on Halloween. At 1 AM I received a text from a friend, asking whether I wanted to go with him to meet a mutual friend in NYC. "Yes". Of course.
The thing about New York is the people there seem coarser. They know why they are there so you better know too. It seems like New Yorkers have very strong identities, "I'm in New York to study film", "...to act", "...as a photographer", and if you aren't sure then you're probably working hard to figure it out. Back in Boston there's an aura of meandering. People can dabble, take pictures and write and play music. Isn't it odd that you "play" music, that there is no verb directly about music. You can "make" music or "play" it, whereas all the other art forms you simply do: "act", "dance", "write"...
Anyways, New York. We arrived at about 4. New York has a sort of dreary, desperate personality to it, just in general harsh, but bold. The combination of which is not unpleasant. We rode the subway to get to 6th Avenue (the subway is awful by the way, illogical and depressing, in comparison to Boston's inspiring underground). And when we emerged it had begun to sprinkle, thus began our interaction with rain for the night. Everywhere people, of all ages, roamed in costume. Masks passed on all sides. The most common costume of the night was the Joker, easily. At times there would be multiple Jokers waiting at a street corner for the light to change.
Oh, that was odd to: New Yorkers wait for the lights to change. I had to readjust to that. I'd gotten too used to Boston where the street lights are irrelevant both to cars and people, and where people always get the right of way.
One man, a favorite of mine, was dressed as a present, another favorite was dressed as the Artist Formerly Known As the Prince (or is he just "The Prince" now?). At one point, as we waited for a bus, we spotted a cop making out with someone, took me a moment to realize the guy was in costume.
Amazing discovery! There are, in fact, two more Tintin comic books that I did not know of, that were not advertised on the back of the main comic books (the collection of which I own). I found one while in NYC that I had never seen before (in a bookstore that didn't fulfill the promise it showed), it was Tintin's interaction with the Soviet Union, done in black and white. Tintin was a little more portly and more crudely drawn. Looking through it seemed like going back in time, watching the comic de-develop.
The New York weekend was also blessed with good food. Sliced duck, fried cheese, and lamb with potatos: we were at a tapas restaurant called Sala. Absolutely delicious. And in my good luck I found a $10 bill outside the door of the restaurant, dropped (more than likely) by a drunk.
More to tell, it was a long trip. But what it's left me with is an appreciation for Boston, a reminder to keep my eyes open, a more potent desire to live spontaneously, a better sense of comradeship, and great anticipation for my next trip to NYC when I will take the time to visit Central Park and roam the Met.
Last thought: this month is National Novel Writing Month, meaning you're supposed to write 50,000 words by the end of the month, that's about 100 (or less) pages. That, in turn, means 3 to 4 pages a week. Not bad. So, I'm thinking of trying to get 3 pages written a day of Lola and Ishack this month, as a sort of back-priority for my life. 100 pages of that (even if I toss most of them out), would be well worth it. The other alternative would be just to spend an hour writing a day. We'll see.
By the way, the format for this blog is I'm posting every monday, that's the current plan at least.