The City That Never Shuts the Fuck Up.

So I’m in New York, and it’s fantastic. This place really doesn’t sleep. Honestly, no, it doesn’t. And if you try to sleep, it will piss on you and begin doing some kind of extraordinary street maintenance outside your window. Then it will plant some 10kW Sodium Lamps outside your room and shit on your dog. There are some things that are so stunning about it. Mostly, it’s the decay. The city is failing so beautifully. The new buildings, the polished growth? Meh, it’s OK, I guess. But I have never been to a city that is so good at falling to pieces. The crumble of the sidewalk, the abandoned building, the stripped car, this is the New York flora and fauna. Instead of a lengthy natural cravasse, you have a warehouse that was, by all visual assessment, built out of one foot squares of glass and untreated steel, and then allowed to age at the bottom of the Atlantic for thirty years, before being dredged up to sit up proud. Where a fox or deer might leap out across your path somewhere else, a man of completely indistinct heritage, perhaps a Chinese Indian, atop a bicycle purchased at K-Mart for $40 sometime in 1982 and allowed to fester under a pile of animal droppings. A beautiful place, in it’s horrible ugliness.

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