Forced Intimacy got Me Like...
I didn't know that I was finally divorced on February 24.
I did know that I was in New York City for the first time and I was super excited to overload all of my senses simultaneously (I do not know if I was prepared for the overload of my sense of smell in every conceivable way, just saying). My weight loss "plan" has included a lot of urban hiking in many cities and I am very lucky to be in a situation where I can take a day to drive to a new city or town, dump the car and figure out the rest on foot (and lose weight in the process). New York seemed to be the culmination of that kind of tourism, so stepping off the train and onto West 34th Street was much like how first-time New York experiences are depicted. I sent many photos to my Mother and she asked me at one point, "Is it really like it looks in these photos?" I could confirm that wholeheartedly.
This trip, planned many months ago, coincided with the Vienna Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. Many people suggested that I see a Broadway show during my stay, but I really have problems suspending my disbelief for musicals (and I really think that maybe I just don't like them). But the chance to see a concert at Carnegie Hall during my first trip seemed fantastically fortunate. What was interesting, also, was that during this concert the piece, Time Recycling, by Rene Staar premiered in the United States - and Staar was able to receive applause for his composition in person. I feel fortunate to be witness to that (unfortunately, Strauss, Strauss and Schubert were not available to do the same) and to see a concert that I thought would only be left to the televised New Year's Day concerts that I watched on public television. I enjoyed seeing the reactions of the classical music devotees and during the encore I found myself engrossed in the energy of those that came there to party in the most sophisticated way. There are many times that I feel connected to crowds during live performances. Sometimes, someone will shield you from the mosh pit you didn't sign up for when you picked your spot. Other times, someone will unite in hatred with you for the drunken idiot that won't shut up. But this was this shared intimacy of knowing that you are witnessing an event collectively. The unspoken connection is something that I can confirm wholeheartedly
Many people speak about the friendliness of Pittsburghers, but often I find myself not really feeling it. I think that there is camaraderie in the sameness of the Steelers' fan, seeing the same person in the same house on the same block on Jane Street for forty years or entrenched employers believing that everyone should keep the same job for their entire lives, but I don't consider that intimacy. No one willingly stands next to someone they don't know or shares a park bench readily. In fact, people wait several minutes just to avoid spending time in the elevator with someone they don't know.
When I relayed my experience of my trip to my friend that lived in New York for many years, at first I could not articulate the closeness that I felt to people there. I relayed the instance where I was in Washington Square Park on one of the first totally beautiful days of the year. Every seat was full. A group of people were playing their guitars and singing along to, "City of New Orleans," by Arlo Guthrie and I thought that nothing could encapsulate the absolute spirit of American-ness in these absolute times of feeling so disconnected with America. She said it is "forced intimacy." And yinz guys...I love it.
I did know that I was in New York City for the first time and I was super excited to overload all of my senses simultaneously (I do not know if I was prepared for the overload of my sense of smell in every conceivable way, just saying). My weight loss "plan" has included a lot of urban hiking in many cities and I am very lucky to be in a situation where I can take a day to drive to a new city or town, dump the car and figure out the rest on foot (and lose weight in the process). New York seemed to be the culmination of that kind of tourism, so stepping off the train and onto West 34th Street was much like how first-time New York experiences are depicted. I sent many photos to my Mother and she asked me at one point, "Is it really like it looks in these photos?" I could confirm that wholeheartedly.
Many things that I saw were those things that have been shown to me in film, television and I have read countless written accounts of the kind of atmosphere that New York unwittingly creates. I am a, "Humans of New York," devotee that could not conceive that there were so many kinds of people in one city simultaneously trying to live to their fullest potential. I can confirm this wholeheartedly.
This trip, planned many months ago, coincided with the Vienna Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. Many people suggested that I see a Broadway show during my stay, but I really have problems suspending my disbelief for musicals (and I really think that maybe I just don't like them). But the chance to see a concert at Carnegie Hall during my first trip seemed fantastically fortunate. What was interesting, also, was that during this concert the piece, Time Recycling, by Rene Staar premiered in the United States - and Staar was able to receive applause for his composition in person. I feel fortunate to be witness to that (unfortunately, Strauss, Strauss and Schubert were not available to do the same) and to see a concert that I thought would only be left to the televised New Year's Day concerts that I watched on public television. I enjoyed seeing the reactions of the classical music devotees and during the encore I found myself engrossed in the energy of those that came there to party in the most sophisticated way. There are many times that I feel connected to crowds during live performances. Sometimes, someone will shield you from the mosh pit you didn't sign up for when you picked your spot. Other times, someone will unite in hatred with you for the drunken idiot that won't shut up. But this was this shared intimacy of knowing that you are witnessing an event collectively. The unspoken connection is something that I can confirm wholeheartedly
Many people speak about the friendliness of Pittsburghers, but often I find myself not really feeling it. I think that there is camaraderie in the sameness of the Steelers' fan, seeing the same person in the same house on the same block on Jane Street for forty years or entrenched employers believing that everyone should keep the same job for their entire lives, but I don't consider that intimacy. No one willingly stands next to someone they don't know or shares a park bench readily. In fact, people wait several minutes just to avoid spending time in the elevator with someone they don't know.
When I relayed my experience of my trip to my friend that lived in New York for many years, at first I could not articulate the closeness that I felt to people there. I relayed the instance where I was in Washington Square Park on one of the first totally beautiful days of the year. Every seat was full. A group of people were playing their guitars and singing along to, "City of New Orleans," by Arlo Guthrie and I thought that nothing could encapsulate the absolute spirit of American-ness in these absolute times of feeling so disconnected with America. She said it is "forced intimacy." And yinz guys...I love it.
There is something that creates this sense of shared humanity really quickly - a blend of necessity and timing along with this collective realization that there is the innate sameness that is actually totally awesome. I felt it when we all complained about waiting in line to use the bathroom at Wendy's on Broadway. I felt it when everyone was tired of the guy trying to sell a cat on the Subway. I felt it when we looked at the only tree that survived the September 11th attacks. This sameness cannot be bottled, but if it could, I would sell it on the streets of Washington DC and dump it into their water supply.
On the day that I was finally legally solidified in my own singleness, I was awarded the gift of a glimpse into the ability to be connected to every face I meet in a city where 8.5M people make it their business to be a collective New York City.
Good Morning America, How Are Ya?
New York, New York... a hell of a town.
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