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Friday, Oct. 17, 2003 @ 3:29 pm

Thereís something naturally debilitating about maintaining a light-hearted public website (note recent silence). By definition it seems these things Ė these diaries and dailies, these bitches and moans Ė are to be quick witted, breezy, a shot in the arm for the bored and the tired, reaching to find one page on this mostly foul computer which they have not yet visited. Droves of temps, laid-offs, and self-employeds, feeling discouraged about college-time promises, feeling now that the dream is over and theyíve officially seen it all, every last page of this Internet. Theyíve reached the end of the line, and perhaps they need these personal touches, fast posting for fast diets and five minute breaks. The modern incarnation of the zine! A new feeding ground for those great stretchers of rubbery free speech!

Perhaps Iím not up to the challenge. Stagnant here as of late.

But Iíve traveled by plane to New York City, and surely thereís something to say about New York City! Arrival: 9:00pm on a humid but not hot Friday night. Departure: 6:00pm on a Sunday sporting solid winds and threatening heavy rain.

There are many tiny spaces in the city. In fact there are only tiny spaces in NYC. And in those spaces gather so many, many, many people. Always tiny spaces with no room to move around, no public bathroom clean enough to piss in, with gangs of late-nighters every twenty steps on the sidewalk, clumps in front of every bar where smokers have been forced out front into the drizzle in accordance with new legislation for lungs.

Itís nearly suffocating in NYC, but I slept early mornings and afternoons soundly, no panic attacks and lonesome strolling with the homeless, the drunk, and the recently laid.

It was a good trip, and while the place still makes me feel empty like a jar, I navigated well with the admirable help of Toby and Kyle. I was in the city for a short stay, arranged around a show for TV on the Radio (get Young Liars, you must!) at the Knitting Factory. Iíd been helping the band book their first tour, and was excited to see them play live for the first time. Trying to chat with you about the 45 hours between touchdown and takeoff presents a real problem, though. Somewhere, somehow, I decided this site would not be a place I would discuss work.

But Iíve come to my senses, held up proud that crooked middle finger to issues such as conflict of interest, what a dickhead talking about his own shit, I donít like this, go away, and so this is how it goes for NYC:

In NYC there are tiny places, and bad sounding rooms for rock music, but faithful and grateful fans. There are subway rides and taxi cabs involved in each and every thought, and even though all citizens of NYC boast that they donít need a car, there are cars everywhere, honking and nearly clipping you in the knees.

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