Complaining is the natural opera of New York. The arias spill out onto the streets, over tablecloth, between smartphones.
That’s all you get.
New York City doesn’t love you. Why would think you’re in a relationship with New York? It’s not a boyfriend or a parent. New York will never give you its approval because New York City is too busy being New York City to care about you.
New York’s indifference to your plight makes you strong. Fall to your knees and thank New York for making you strong.
New York doesn’t miss me. I don’t even think New York knows I’m
There are plenty of great reasons to live on the West Coast. Tacos. Fish tacos. I can spend my days literally staring directly into the warm Southern California sun.
New York doesn’t get jealous. New York doesn’t care about Los Angeles.
But I am starting to care. Just a teensy bit. I just wish more people out here on the fringe of our civilization would complain more about traffic, flip-flops, and kale.
You know, the fact that L.A. is universally despised by the rest of the country is almost endearing. New Yorkers love an underdog.
Or they should.
As a native New Yorker who hasn’t had to survive living in the City as an adult, my love of NY is more innocent and nostalgic than this guy’s - and I’m lucky that NY and I have settled into a pretty functional open relationship - but, man, does he articulate some truth.