Bloggin' America

I had this feeling in my stomach of impending doom–not for the trip or my family or me, necessarily; but for the way I’d imagined the world. It was unsettling to know that I could have two completely opposite feelings about someone at once, and that living inside that gray area could be both comforting and excruciating. Keep going...

The next two days were excruciating. I met Marc on Tuesday and it was Friday. I wondered why he’d come up to me in the first place. Was it just to torture me? It was stupid, but I became obsessed with checking my phone and Ray knew this so sometimes he’d send me texts that said “balls” and I’d punch him in the arm. Keep going...

There was something frenetic about New York city—something that drives. It was hard to tell how people slept at all, hopped up on coffee, Red Bull, and money. At night, the drunks and businessmen came out—often one and the same; and hipsters, crystalline in their focus, aimed to be seen as like-minded, small-hatted rebels. Thought it was unclear what they were rebelling against. Loose fitting jeans, I guess. Keep going...

My first sight when we crossed the bridge in the RV was the skyline. It was drizzling and there was a low ring of cloud drifting over the city like a halo of ash. I thought of this image because there was one building that was missing from every postcard I’d ever seen, every old movie, and for a moment, I felt connected to a city I’d never stepped foot in. Keep going...