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On Not Being in New York

So I’m on a farm north of Fort Collins for a few days, in what would be an amazing writer’s cabin except there are a ton of flies and I have to pee outside. 

A lot is going on back in New York. There was the earthquake and the hurricane, and the tenth anniversary of September 11 is coming up. My friend Jordan said there’s an energy in New York right now, a sense that everyone in the whole city is dealing with the same thing.

I can remember that feeling, and I can imagine what my life in New York would be like if I hadn’t moved. I probably would have felt the earthquake from my second floor apartment, while I was writing, or more likely, reading something frivolous online. I would have holed up with some friends in Clinton Hill and watched movies for the Hurricane. On the anniversary of September 11, I would have remembered my awkward and uncertain reaction during my first week of college, when I went to top floor of my dorm and could see smoke from the fallen Twin Towers.  

But as I write this, the farm’s border collie is playing with a dead mouse. With all the thinking that went into leaving New York, I had no idea that on August 31,, I would be watching a dog who just licked my hand lick the inside of a rodent.

So there’s that.  Also, this is true every year.