Manhattan – three good words

New York is the first city where I felt physically offended by what I was smelling. I’ve gotten annoyed with the results of sealed poubelles in Paris, and completely absent bins in London. Never have I smelled a stink like the one a few days ago on our way crosstown to Lexington Ave, just a block away from the Waldorf that was being colonised by the UN. It was a genuine ‘Oh my God what the fuck is that?’ moment. I covered my nose. I breathed low. Nothing worked. I didn’t want to breathe with my mouth because the problem of that smell was that it was so offensive. I did not want it in my body. My quasi-little brother Henry, who was with me during the olfactory attack, he said that such stinks were normal in the city. You can have this wonderful moment in NYC that is completely ruined by a smell so bad you just want to run. And he’s right. New York makes you understand what olfactory nerves mean, since your subjected to their assault far too frequently. We hotfooted it down the street until we got away from that smell. I still don’t know what it was. There are a lot of smells in New York that I don’t want to investigate. And they always turn up suddenly, like some invisible thug waiting around the corner, ready to punch your nose in the face. This week was inhabited by such a cacophony of smells (not scents; scents are nice, friendly creatures who invite you to sit down, have a drink and enjoy some fantastic rhythm and blues) that when I ended up walking through Chinatown I was relieved. Finally, organic smells. Strange and unknown to me, they were at times not pleasant, but I knew what they were, I could see their source lying outside in crates and bags and boxes, staring back at me in all shapes and sizes. Whatever it was that attacked us a block away from the Waldorf… that belongs on some ABC weapons list. That was just wrong.

So this is it, The City. Not London. The other one. All lights at night, it never sleeps. An Empire State of mind on a warm September evening, meandering through busy, busy, streets

And then, suddenly, you’re in.

The rush the unstoppable beat to move from A to B to C to D all the way to the summit the elites to keep on going to only rest when rest is really needed to spend not a minute more than necessary to strive to strive to be to be now now it must be now show what you got what you are what you want to be work eat drink sleep and the essentials in between but don’t stop don’t hesitate think quick think fast think now on your feet walk and talk as if everything’s already booked till next week

and don’t show one sign of weakness.

Be yourself BE yourself BE YOURSELF now right now now Now NOW and achieve Achieve ACHIEVE creatively please even in the small niches the business/busyness proceeds prevails succeeds for success is real sleeping on Park getting its tinted-window-ed quietness its doorman-ed peace where your presence must be announced and there is nothing but doors windows and towncar limos in the streets while a block away Madison shows where life is living breathing hopping and skipping possibly screaming for more sweets and 53 years of solid wealth haven’t lessened the yearning for home the enraged disgust with the new/old home-sweet-home of the Upper East for behind the quiet within the smooth glittering spaces there seems little peace or so it seems it seems it seems to be giving at the seams and yet it works and works and works some more neverending the UN filling up the Waldorf and the living nations filling up subway seats don’t lean against the doors please don’t lose sight of your goals please don’t fall back in this breathless breathless breathless race to be a self a someone a me

And on 30 Rock, looking out, the city extends to a metropolis.
Breathtaking.