Neil Simon (via ericmortensen)
Oh, poor New Yorkers, with their terrible weather and their high rents and their wistful memories of a city that was once interesting and exciting. You know what? The subway has really bad lighting.
Have you ever been to a party in Los Angeles? Have you ever gone to the supermarket in LA? Have you ever lain down in your back yard in LA and looked up at your Meyer Lemon tree? Have you ever rolled down your window at a stoplight to hear the conversation of the people crossing the street? Dang. LA’s the shit: weird and beautiful and ugly and big and fun and, oh yeah, the weather is great. And you know what? The people are interesting. Beautiful too. Must be the light.
I don’t normally even think of engaging with something that bashes New York, but the description of Los Angeles here is beautiful and accurate, despite being defensive. It’s a good mix of what I’ve been thinking lately, too.
:/ - how is the bad lighting on the subway a negative?
It makes everyone look equally terrible. The terrible experience of the subway makes new yorkers feel equal.
Yes, we are all nauseated by the couple making out, the obnoxious friends talking to each other, the middle age guy pretending to sleep so he doesn’t have to give his seat up to the pregnant lady, the kids asking for the time, and when people attempt to tell them, they reveal the question was redundant. It has always been showtime.
I won’t act like I wouldn’t kill for a backyard, but I’m happy where I am. I imagine LA, like all cities, has their own version of terrible things that they equally hate and depress them, but the high rents, how shitty the Mets will be, and picking up a package from UPS are my terrible things that I have earned the right to hate about the city I’m in love with.
I also outwardly hate it went people I like are happier on the other side of the country, but their happiness is more important to me than seeing them.
I’m super happy people love New York in the way Pedro does — that’s the type of love that drew me there in the first place, and I still appreciate hear the siren’s call when I read it, and I wouldn’t trade that time in my life for anything — but (or maybe because), I don’t love it that way.