reflection on 2024 in the city in june heat waves my motivation goodbye. “It is june. I am tired of being brave.”
during friendsgiving we go around the table and say what we’re grateful for. “all of my friends,” most say with a sheepish grin.
i proclaim that i am grateful for mittens in the morning. unabashed and a bit melodramatic for a group of mutuals i’ve only purviewed in the peripheral vision at the office. i complain about the weather daily, but really, it’s always been a privilege to witness my fingers crack in the morning, my thick plume frizzy post-excursion.
“It’s december. And no one asked me if i was ready.”
this past year i’ve embraced being a little dramatic. in other words, i’ve given myself permission to be myself. i feel the highs and lows.
i’ve chased communities and creativity and floated in and out of flow states. i realized i like events in 3rd POV compared to 1st — throwing and documenting events thrill me more than actually being there.
sarah kay once said something along the lines of - everytime i am writing i wish i was out living. every time i am living i wish i was in writing. my initial takeaway was that living a full life was at odds with writing an interior life. i now understand - i need to live a life worth writing about, and write in a way that makes life worth living.
in 2025 i want to live a life so full it bursts at the seams, sticky-persimmon sweetness oozing past skin. a life so ordinary yet beautiful it begets not biography but memoir. i struggle to describe my substack but perhaps this is it: an aspirational memoir.
i’ve avoided explicitly writing a new york-themed piece, as to say that it’s the greatest city in the world feels trite. but reflecting on this year’s theme it’d be remiss to dismiss the impact moving here has been for my relation to art, to others, to self. it was at a poetry class in williamsburg that i first discovered the word navel-gazer and i felt the joys of finding a name for something i could never pinpoint. it was at a coffee shop-turned-speakeasy that i shared my writing for the first time, at the open mic i’ve almost promised to go to. it was at a pho shop in st marks when i it was at weekly spring visits to soho that i meekly shared my street photos to a room of familiar strangers. to say i could even have a group of people to gather for photo walks or writing clubs is something i desired but only got now.
and i met so many writers here! except we are a blend of other things - creatives, shitposters, a lota corporate sellouts looking for meaning elsewhere. this city incites a high permeability to wonder
the first question i ask people, after they ask when you moved to the city, is how long you think you’ll stay. is it presumptuous to presume i will be here forever? you either hate or love new york. you either leave or stay. you either choose chaos or cosmos.
i want to call out the pieces that stirred me most in 2024.
- perfect days —
- Meet me in atlantic city
I did a character assessment for the first time
quotes Comparison isn’t just the thief of joy, it’s the thief of direction. And as I’ve often said, ambition without direction just leaves you with anxiety.
“This awe made him feel good, still permeable to wonder, but also shamefully provincial. Country mouse.”