I hate horoscopes.
I never know if something I’m experiencing is because of a seed planted by some weekly “reading.” Maybe, I was going to have a great day, then I read I was going to have a bad one, not to spend any money, so I didn’t, and now I have a hunger headache, making it a bad day.
Today marks a year and a day in my first big girl apartment in the city. If we’re to believe my horoscope, this week is the perfect time to take care of home, making the necessary improvements, make it feel, well, like, home.
AKA spring cleaning.
I love this city, I hate it sometimes, too. In an effort to keep track of my feelings about the Big Apple during my time here I try my best to chronicle them in a letter to this crazy place. Welcome to Dear New York–a series posted monthly on the anniversary of the date I moved here.
I’ve been thinking, New York.
About the homeless people I encounter.
I don’t feel like I was every really mean to them. I give when I can, apologize when I can’t.
“If you want to to be an artist, and you want to do and live off your art, then you have to take a stab at it, and paint in the best city in the world, which is New York as far as I’m concerned.”
Graffiti stencil artist Nick Walker, the man who inspired Banksy, responsible for the art behind me, wrote that for himself, I’m sure, but I took that and applied it to me and my writing.
I remember asking Bill Cunningham’s muse Tziporah Salmon about developing her eye for fashion.
She paused for a minute, and then said, “you know, you’re a writer, so you read writing that inspires you. You delve into the craft as a consumer, a fan, which may not feel like it, but works to better your product.”