Hello from the Greenwich Treehouse, a great little bar in Greenwich Village with free Wifi. I cannot resist the romance of the Village…I sit here and think about Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg and poets curled up in small apartments with candles burning in empty wine bottles. Walking the small side streets around here is intoxicating for me…I imagine living here and having “my” bakery, my little corner cafe, etc. It’s very European. At the same time, part of me resists the movie image of the place, and reminds myself that poets are curled up in cities and towns all across the country and globe. But there is an undeniable magic to this place. The apartment we’re renting is in the Upper West Side, which feels far more functional…there’s magic to Central Park of course, but not necessarily on Columbus Ave. I remember reading a wonderful book called Paris to the Moon, by Adam Gopnik, in which he talks about the idea of “a beautiful existence” – he and his wife move to Paris to find it. In my 20s I used to fantasize about moving away, to San Francisco mostly, in search of the same thing. My DC existence is grounded, and there’s a profound beauty to that… but it’s exciting to be somewhere that feels magical. Like being swept away.
Creative DC in NY, day 2
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Sadly, the Village as portrayed in popular mythology doesn’t really exist. Real “struggling artist” types haven’t been able to afford living there for ages.
It’s a great place to hang out, have a drink, shop, etc., but the real creative scene is just a ghost hanging around. The poets aren’t really huddled in the Village anymore, becasue they can’t make the rent.
While you’re there though, remember that NY has the best pizza in the world. Partake early and often.