mia loves henry miller
Letter 33 – Heat and Mischief in NYC with Mr. B
1/30/12 10:25 a.m.
Dear Henry Miller,
“New York is cold, glittering, malign. The buildings dominate. There is a sort of atomic frenzy to the activity going on; the more furious the pace, the more diminished the spirit. A constant ferment, but it might just be as well be going on in a test tube. Nobody knows what it’s all about. Nobody directs the energy. Stupendous. Bizarre. Baffling. A tremendous reactive urge, but absolutely uncoordinated.” –Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
During the first few months, after Mr. B and I met, we took so many trips to NYC in a short amount of time. It’s difficult to remember what events happened in precise sequence during each visit, because it all kind of blurs together. The first trip we took to NYC was in mid to late April or possibly early May, almost six years ago. The spring weather was gorgeous! I love New York City in the spring time.
We flew again to NYC sometime in July. Mr. B was getting ready to publish his second book. He had some business that he needed to take care of. It was so fucking hot! NYC was on the verge of a black out. The classic song, Steam Heat, kept playing in my head. The Manhattan generators were working overtime to keep everyone cool. The streets smelled like rotting garbage and melting, hot tar. Chinatown smelled like spoiled fish and chicken. The sidewalks were wet from small puddles of spilt coconut water. The heat from the vendor carts projected even more heat as you walked past, clouds of billowing smoke from the food on the grill, stole your breath away. The homeless looked defeated, slumped up against a building, hoping for some money to purchase something to cold to drink. The subways were stifling hot and miserable due to the air conditioning going out in some of the subway trains. Continue reading