Postcards from Dumbo, Brooklyn. Pride Edition. #hubbahubba

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Postcards from Dumbo, Brooklyn. Pride Edition. #hubbahubba
Postcards from Dumbo, Brooklyn. Late Spring edition.
15.
It's been 15 years that I moved to NYC. Up until year 10, I wrote about what it meant to be a New Yorker, every year. I was going through my phone earlier this month, looking for a picture that would capture what this move meant for me, I couldn't find one that I liked. Then by happenstance, I walked past this truck. I left a very full life in San Francisco 15 years ago and hit restart in NYC on March 7th, 2011. I never looked back. I would not say I was reborn or that I was on a trajectory of having to reinvent myself. I will say, that unlike my time in SF, I took my coat off and stayed. I never fully cottoned to San Francisco. I loved my many, many years in California, but there was always an element of it feeling foreign, distant, disconnected. It brought me love and heartbreak in equal measure, community and friendships that live in the very marrow of my bones, professional achievements and challenges that shaped my career choices. There are things I will always miss about San Francisco: the immediate access to beaches and oceans, the smell of orange blossoms in late winter, the clanking of the streetcars, watching the fog roll in and out (long before it had a name), swimming 365 days a year outside, flip flops in February, the unlimited options of letting your pup run off-leash, the incredible rush of driving a stick-shift up and down those hills and hauling out of 1st gear on the steepest inclines, hand brake and all. It's good to miss things, it makes you remember what matters. It's also good to know that you ended up the place that you were meant to be, at least for now, which feels far more certain than San Francisco ever did.
Postcards from Dumbo, Brooklyn. #dumbo #manhattanbridge #touristsatsunrise
10.
Yesterday, I marked my 10th anniversary of moving to NYC. I spent the first night in NY at the Nu Hotel in Brooklyn, stumbled the next day into my new job at Huge. A year ago, I wrote about how I had tried on multiple occasions to leave NY, and how I was grateful to have stayed and continued to build a life. Shortly after my annual entry, across the globe all of our lives changed dramatically. NYC experienced a mass exodus of people eager to abscond the lockdown. Rebecca, Bennet and I stayed. We stayed through it all: the eerily quieter than quiet streets, the interminable sounds of ambulances wailing, the cadaver trucks humming outside of Brooklyn hospitals, the nightly clapping at 7pm to healthcare and essential workers. I rode my single speed through the middle of 6th Ave up straight through to Times Square. There were more bikes than cars, barely anyone on the street. It was the worst of the worst, but we were safe, warm, healthy and had everything we needed. As the year has spread out in front of us, we navigated the challenges and found new ways to enjoy the city throughout each phase of reopening. After living here for 10 years, NY always has its own set of unexpected twists and turns, even with the backdrop of a global pandemic. I have learned that even in the hardest of moments, follow the twists, follow the turns, move with where the city may take you. There will always be adventures to be had, stories to share, lives to cherish, whether you’re 6 feet apart, or separated by a mere 6 inches on a rush-hour packed subway. This is New York, and my home for the last 10 years. And with that, I have become officially a New Yorker.
Yesterday, we did an essential thing. Amidst all the unexpected, the unprecedented, the distancing, the isolation, the panic, we celebrated love with both ritual and joy. I had the good luck of helping two good friends marry (officially, yes) at Coney Island in front of the Cyclone— a metaphor for any relationship, this period that we are in, and most importantly for G and R the place where their story began to take hold. With the backdrop of so many lives being impacted physicallly, emotionally and ecomomically by CoVid19 , it made my heart sing how for a brief moment I witnessed love and happiness unadulterated. All my love to the beautiful and handsome brides Genvieve and Roxy. (at Coney Island Beach and Boardwalk) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9_qcCGgchf/?igshid=18ahhu2x8vt6q
9.
No picture this year, not because I don’t have plenty...but because I stopped taking pictures of NY cityscapes. Going through my phone the majority of the last year were either of the dogs, especially when Atlas was still with me/us. It’s been 9 years that I got off a plane on a wet, cold March 7th and made my way to my new home in NYC. This city has brought me love, work, heartbreak, and in this past year loss. I have tried five times to leave this beauty in the last 5 years--Austin, Atlanta, Los Angeles, Atlanta, and most recently Germany. Returned to SF even for a bit longer stretch than my usual in/out last December; I found the people I loved that I had left behind--more important and special to me as ever, and memories of a life well lived there for many years. My visit back to SF reminded me that I never really felt like I took my coat off, in spite of all the important steps I had taken over time. Home is here--with memories that have been made, new traditions formed, friendships and a love for a lifetime. New York feeds me in way that no other place ever has, with each day it gives me something new, reminds me of the essential.
8.
I still occasionally have to ask which way is West vs East. I still get on trains going the wrong direction. NYC is never easy--always complicated in its own special way, and yet I can answer with the greatest ease that this is where I belong.
7.
They say that after 7 years with a person, or even a place you may feel an itch. As I sat in a hotel room in Atlanta last night, eating a salad and drinking a limeade, the only itch I wanted to scratch was the desire get on a plane and head back to NYC. For as complicated and frustrating this city can be, there is no place like it, and no place like home.
Verdad. @ilegalmezcal @oaxacking #vandbdomexico2018 (at Palenque Mal De Amor)
Bitingly cold weather didn’t slow these two down from a proper beach romp this afternoon. #lifewithlittleb #lifewithbiga #filson
Christmas Eve dinner prep complete. #Christmas2017 #happychristmas #wishyouhadawifelikeme
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. #lifewithbiga
When Rebecca and I met, she introduced me to a sweet little documentary of two lesbians who had been engaged for 40 years. We watched it multiple times, almost as many as I have watched Carol. Little did I know that these two women: Edie and Thea, would pave the way to making this day happen. And in Edie Windsor’s wonderful words: “Married is a magic word,” as she spoke at a rally outside City Hall in New York just days before Thea’s death in 2009. “And it is magic throughout the world. It has to do with our dignity as human beings, to be who we are openly.” It is true, marriage is hard, tough, painful, special, challenging, but most of all magic, especially with you @beckygisme. Happy First Year. (at 500 Pearl street federal court)
You can take the Italian out of Italy, but you cannot take the Italy out of the Italian. This I was rolling up to a red light when I heard the familiar cadence of a Roman man talking loudly on his phone. At first, i thought it was a driver with his window wide open. As I neared, I realized I was dead wrong. Lo and behold, an Italian businessman, fully suited and in oxfords, with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while revving his engine and talking to a colleague about work matters. When I shamelessly heckled him in my best Roman accent, asking him to give me a pretty smile, he gave me the most perfect stink-eye, before driving off. (at SoHo, Manhattan)
May you wrap yourself in Pride today, and everyday. #pride🌈 (at Prospect Park)