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I anthropomorphize everyhing, and nothing so much as New York City. And I hate watching people hurt her. Living in New York is like living in America's backstage story. My commute to work, my experience in the right sort of restaurants, my trips to museums and shopping -- it's all fucking filled with America's fanfiction and RPF. My mother worked at Tiffany. My father was an ad man. One of my best friends growing up was the daughter of a Broadway producer and we tap-danced in her house on the giant dimes from 42nd Street. It's hard to be a caretaker for so much dreaming. And it's hard to be the target of so much anger.
So that's what it means when people are cruel to my home. And that's what it means when people love it. And this is what I mean when I talk about being a finer thing. There's a precision in me that comes from living in and growing up in so strange a small kingdom. And it makes me very happy when others come here and choose it too. Because then we're all in a marvelous secret club, tiny and vast.
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Date: 2010-10-22 03:17 pm (UTC)(When I was looking for a change in 2008, one of my potential employers flew me down to NYC for interviews at their facility there since their Cambridge office was still too small to support their preferred interview process. I loved it, and if I'd been interested in relocating would have very seriously considered their NYC office instead of many of the other locations. London and/or Dublin might well have been ahead of it on my list, though....)