west coast/east coast

Edward Hopper, Early Sunday Morning, 1930

It’s hard to make close friends in New York. That’s what everyone tells me. Everyone is conscious of how busy everyone else is, and people mostly stick to their own friend groups. You might have a two hour heart-to-heart with someone at a party and never text them again. If you want to become close friends with someone, I’m told that you have to “get over the hump”—hang out with them three or four times in quick succession and cement your closeness. I’m trying to discover whether this is true or not from first principles.

My life here: I have my SF friends who conveniently moved to the city at the same time I did, and I’m grounded by their presence. I have my very smart and cool Twitter friends. And I’ve been trying diligently to meet more people, new people. To put myself out there.

After all, I’m very social. I go to parties and readings. I’m approachable—since I was a teenager people have talked to me on public transit, while standing in line for the bus, at dimly lit bar counters. Families love to ask me for directions. Dogs and cats find me the right mixture of friendly and aloof. I’m trying my best, is what I’m trying to communicate to you.

There’s something about the New York that feels so diffuse to me. People tell me the city is all about money, but I’m not sure if that’s true. It’s an enormous city, enormously alive, and I have the sense that you can find whatever you want here if you search carefully enough. Problem is, I don’t know exactly what I’m searching for.