May We Have A Minute Alone

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• November 5, 2021

New York, may we have a minute alone? A city where you’re never alone. But always alone. May we have a moment, just you and I. Don’t you know I know now how dangerous it is to fall in love with a city. Don’t you know now I know how reckless it is to fall in love with something that is incapable of loving at all? Don’t you know how, since I was a kid, and you were just my neighbor, how I felt every time every time I saw you. How you sparkled for me like you do. How I felt blessed to be right here in your orbit.

New York, don’t you know how magical you are is enough pixie dust to get someone so desperately hooked on you, even when you’re cold, if not brutal, time after time. That the indifference you show us becomes worth those rare moments where treat us like we’re yours, like we’re important. Being someone to you, even if for a blinking moment, it’s like being seen by a movie star and history at the same time. Like you’re as special as your mom says you are. If you’re someone to New York, even if just for a day.

New York, don’t you know you make more people feel crazy than loved? Though at 32, I’m quite sure love is just a form a madness. A welcomed madness, till you lose it, then you drown the grief out with something loud, anything loud.

New York, do you know what you mean to a young writer? All the dreamers? Do you know what it’s like to be part of New York City culture as a comedian. Looking up to, then sitting next to comedians who were once your gods and are now your peers, do you know what it’s like for people to visit all around the world and end up an audience member at the stage you’re performing on? New York, do you know what it’s like to live your dream and be rejected from your dream more times than you count, more times than you think your heart can handle, more times than your brain thinks is sane.

New York, do you know what it’s like to be in love with someone while be in the city you’re in love with? The buildings never shine so bright. The lights on the stage in your eyes never blinded as much. New York, do you know what it’s like to go to bed alone night after night, in the city overflowing with bleeding hearts. Somehow no one understands you, you’re an alien all alone because in this city people are ants and no one sees you. You’re alone and no one cares. And you, New York, you’re the worst of all. You never gave a shit. You have more than you can take and you’ll take everything. You don’t even ask. We just give it to you willingly. We want you to love us. We want you to make you feel like we did those nights in the presence of genius musicians, those nights on stage making the masses laugh, those nights when someone special took your hand and you felt like you’re in a movie. You don’t care, New York, because you’re in the backdrop of every single memory. You’re a character, if not the lead, in all our stories.

New York, remember, I’m not some transplant. I’m a native here. I am you. As much as you are me. Can we be alone a minute? Because of all the times I’ve threatened to leave, because you were not satisfying me, because you hurting me, breaking me. I’m still here and I’ve picked my story back up. I think it’s about to get good, and I just think that you should know, New York, our love/hate relationship won’t end till I’m dead and yours will go on long after I’m dead. One day, some day, everyone who knows me will be long gone and no one will remember how I walked the streets of New York, how I loved, hated, dreamed, wrote, lived and died in New York. You won’t remember me, fuck, I’m not sure if you’re even listening now, but that’s the danger of falling in love with a city.

You’re the beginning, middle and end of my story, New York. And I think you should know, you’re not the center of the universe. You think, New York, you’re the center of my universe, but you’re wrong, New York. You’re the glistening background. And yet, so much more than this.