and there's no leaving new york.

well, of course there is, i'm sure, leaving, at some point - but i love that lyric, especially repeated over and over at the end of a wistful winter song. i've read a lot of literature lately that calls out the yearning that people feel once they leave this town. you can complain a lot while you're here, but i suppose once you're not, you realize just how magic it is. and i say that begrudgingly - not because i don't think it's wonderful - i do.

i just find the endless fawning leaves me yawning.

when people rabbit endlessly about eating magnolia cupcakes and shoe shopping and strolling down bleecker, they seem to be projecting a life for themselves that doesn't exist to me, or possibly even to them. it's sex and the city season 1-400 rehashed and regurgitated into sad little unglamorous vignettes. i don't want that city or the sex in it.

i'd rather have my own stumbling bumbling adventures.

and oh but i am.