After openimg at least three or four links to interesting nytimes articles, my link-hopping lands me on Gothamist. I read the quintessential NYC fantasy-rent-controlled-apartment story. Soon I am buried in Google maps, winding deeper and deeper into the web that is the West Village. I am an East Village girl, and I have zero sense of direction in the West Village. Even sitting here with the map right in front of me on my iPad, I am still getting lost. And I am under the spell again.
The consistent sense of bewilderment is part of the adventure. This neighborhood wields a trance inducing power. Even if you never find your way out, you won't mind. You wander around looking for a place that you think is here, but isn't there either. Instead you find yourself somewhere nearly identical, but not quite right. Then there is the sensation of surprise when you arrive at a corner you know very well. "Oh!" you say to yourself, "I didn't know Pleasure Chest was just around the corner from Elephant & Castle" or that the Village Vanguard is so near the place where you bought your precious leather jacket so long ago.
But every familiar place exists in it's own orbit. Naturally—or not—these orbits have no consistency. They are more like bubbles floating aimlessly, sometimes they intersect, but mostly they pass in a whisper. At night the shifts are stealthier. Move your eyes in the wrong direction and you will miss the link. You might walk two blocks in any direction. You will be in a different bubble, or not. If the orbits shift you will not be able to walk back the way you came. Your previous location is no longer where you thought you left it.
Your map lists all the cheese shops and bakeries, cafes, restaurants, yoga studios, book stores. The names that grab you are the ones that held you fast in your former life. Wandering around from above you find yourself drifting back in time. You are on Greenwich Ave., stopping at the places you once haunted. You feel the giddy ripples lift you up and drop you down on the streets you wandered with good friends and better lovers. The drunken kisses in crusty doorways swirl through you teasingly. There is the dimly lit den where you talked and drank for hours. Here is the bright peppery taste of the arugula in your 3am omelette. The cafe that used to be here still makes best toast ever.
Does it help you to find your way if you know that W.4th and W.10th intersect between Bleecker and & 7th Ave South? Hmmm ... Does it help you to know that from Sheridan Sq. your choices are Christopher St., Washington Place, Grove St., Barrow St., 7th ave, or W.4th? Well really, how? Some of these streets don't even exist on the other side of the square. Nearly within reach is the legendary Stonewall Inn. Its less than a block from here, But only if you are heading toward Waverly ... Oh look, here is Waverly, but it's not Waverly anymore ... Now it's Washington Sq. North. That's where 5th Ave. ends. If you find yourself in Washington Sq., you are back in your zone. Back to where you are on a mostly navigable grid. But save the grid for another time, when you want a firmer grip on the illusion that you know where you are.
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| Only a short walk to your holistic eating counselor |
But every familiar place exists in it's own orbit. Naturally—or not—these orbits have no consistency. They are more like bubbles floating aimlessly, sometimes they intersect, but mostly they pass in a whisper. At night the shifts are stealthier. Move your eyes in the wrong direction and you will miss the link. You might walk two blocks in any direction. You will be in a different bubble, or not. If the orbits shift you will not be able to walk back the way you came. Your previous location is no longer where you thought you left it.
Your map lists all the cheese shops and bakeries, cafes, restaurants, yoga studios, book stores. The names that grab you are the ones that held you fast in your former life. Wandering around from above you find yourself drifting back in time. You are on Greenwich Ave., stopping at the places you once haunted. You feel the giddy ripples lift you up and drop you down on the streets you wandered with good friends and better lovers. The drunken kisses in crusty doorways swirl through you teasingly. There is the dimly lit den where you talked and drank for hours. Here is the bright peppery taste of the arugula in your 3am omelette. The cafe that used to be here still makes best toast ever.
Does it help you to find your way if you know that W.4th and W.10th intersect between Bleecker and & 7th Ave South? Hmmm ... Does it help you to know that from Sheridan Sq. your choices are Christopher St., Washington Place, Grove St., Barrow St., 7th ave, or W.4th? Well really, how? Some of these streets don't even exist on the other side of the square. Nearly within reach is the legendary Stonewall Inn. Its less than a block from here, But only if you are heading toward Waverly ... Oh look, here is Waverly, but it's not Waverly anymore ... Now it's Washington Sq. North. That's where 5th Ave. ends. If you find yourself in Washington Sq., you are back in your zone. Back to where you are on a mostly navigable grid. But save the grid for another time, when you want a firmer grip on the illusion that you know where you are.
