It’s Not Life Unless It’s City Living

May 6, 2010 — 6 Comments

Frank O’Hara said, “I can’t even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there’s a subway handy, or a record store, or some other sign that people do not totally *regret* life.”

This is exactly the way I feel. I am a city kid, born and bred, and I can’t handle more than a day away from it. Vacations? To other, bigger cities. I love my restaurants and my mass transit and my sidewalks filled with people. People make me feel safe. I’m pleased as punch with civilization’s progress, and isolated pastoral settings make me think of serial killers. Beaches bore me silly, unless we’re talking Riviera-type beaches, which are really just transplanted cities. I’ll take Central Park if I want some greenery. To me, the skyscaper is ten times more astounding than any mountain. I can’t write when it’s too quiet–I prefer the busy background hum of a coffeeshop.

I realize I’m an outlier, and most of my friends and family are nuts for the great outdoors. Maybe I would be, too, if I were more athletic. And not allergic to trees. And pollen. And grass. And flowers. Do I sound like Woody Allen yet? I do appreciate the beauty of nature. Just, you know, shown on my flatscreen tv.

What about you? City, country, or both? Do feel differently when you write? Do you like to just get away from it all to write, or be right in the thick of it?