On Broadway
I left him at the table and walked north back to my apartment, staring at the sky above my riverbed, the white and silver scales atop the Chrysler Building (the arrangement of lights looking like the fish I’d seen on the walls of Pompeii). Alone and heading home.
It reminded me of my first weeks in the city, walking from Union Square down Broadway after my movies—always alone—past Grace Church, Amalgamated. The education of a girl and her sensibilities. It came to me, finally. “Alone” and “lonely” were very different. Right then, I was by myself yet a part of those around me, Broadway, a river of souls, the echo of heavy heels, sneezes (little orgasms of air), monologues of crazy street poets. I considered all of my romances—the city, my job, the men. Manhattan was real and the only thing that had grabbed a hold of me, never once letting go. So I had that. I’d always have that. Breathe.
July 23rd, 2007 at 3:28 pm
Beautiful, Belle beautiful.You’ve taken me with you, you’re not alone!
July 24th, 2007 at 4:59 pm
Did he get stuck with the check, and whilst we’re discussing this, do you think he knows the difference between being left alone at the table versus feeling lonely at the table?
July 25th, 2007 at 5:57 am
PP, you’re back! I have to love you and your detail-oriented reading… I don’t think the point of the post was about picking up the tab (but you knew that).
My guess is that the man felt more humiliated than lonely or alone. Lesson: Don’t cross a woman at the dinner table!
July 26th, 2007 at 4:54 am
Humiliation at the hands of a (beautiful) woman is a cold and lonely dish.
August 2nd, 2007 at 9:08 am
I’ve been reading your blog for two years and you continue to inspire me. As a new manhattanite, I’m quite familiar with the walks home alone after a movie, and I can relate to the internal debate of alone vs. lonely. Well written.
Best,
Alissa