Ballad of Lemons

Tonight was supposed to be Black Swan time. Instead the movie was sold out for two straight showings -- I forget how hazardous it can be to watch a popular movie on a weekend in the city -- so my friend and I cruised back to Brooklyn to check out a graphic and arts thing. The bustling space was filled with the much rumored trendy hipsters of Brooklyn I'd yet to encounter, and after five minutes of standing around, we decided the scene was not really to our taste. With the rain this weekend, the weather was gorgeously warm and my friend suggested walked back across the bridge to Manhattan. After picking up a cup of corner coffee and a can of coconut juice, we set off.

Long walks around the city are basically my favorite thing to do and it worries me that winter will prevent this. In my mind, I figured this would be my last opportunity, as the weather forecast called for dipping temperatures and snow flurries in two days. I had promised myself to not complain, or talk much, about the weather here, but I'm finding that weather is an unavoidable topic. I mean, maybe it's the thing that people immediately come around to when they find out I'm from San Diego, but I think talking about weather here is different than back home. Here, weather dictates what you can do and your motivation to do it. San Francisco is the same way, but generally in SF, if it's not raining, we could still drive anywhere, so weather wasn't really a deterrent. In New York, the weather is as much a part of the topography as any hill in San Francisco, or driving distance in Southern California.

I rationally knew all this, but I'm experiencing it in a more observational and nuanced way this time around, versus when I was in Michigan or Jersey City. At the end of the day, winter is coming and I'll just triple layer thermals and get out there anyway.

After our long meandering walk back into the city, I took my friend to the dance spot I was introduced to last weekend. It was great again, even if the music was a bit erratic. We stayed for a couple of hours, avoiding the annoying showy girls on our left, and sort of meeting a few guys from London out to have a good time. My friend is going through some emotional times, and as proven yet again, dancing is a great temporary relief. That, and I hope, conversation.