I recently saw this movie. The music was upbeat and sweet with a jazzy feel. It reminded me of Desiree's "Gotta Be." The movie and the song reminded me of walking in the Village on a quiet sweet Sunday in New York in the Spring. I may even be able to say that it was 1994. I can see the places in my mind. I would wake up early and get dressed. The style was baggy boy jeans with a mock turtle neck body suit. I wore black lace up combat boots. Of course, I had bangs and my hair was half up. I loved wearing peacoats. I loved winter because of the coats. That was when I liked the cold.
There were days when New York had a smell. It had a feel to it. Sometimes it was hard and other times it was sweet and gentle. I get a reaction when I talk about New York today, here in Arizona. People look at me like they envision a movie. They don't know how humid it gets in New York. They can't imagine all of the sound. We don't walk here. I miss that about New York. I hear that even in New York, they are using dating apps. I can't imagine. I used to just walk around all the time.
I watched that movie, the one I mentioned above and it brought me back. I can see myself walking up 7th Avenue. I can see the little park by the infamous basketball park. I liked the pizza on the corner. I had a boyfriend that used to work in the record store that was not far from there. The thing that I liked the most was walking anonymously with and without music while looking and browsing at people and things. There were shiny new stores with beautiful displays and old vintage stores with wonderful old dusty things. You never knew what you would see walking around. There was possibility. That was the thing. It was all so hopeful and real. There was a peace to the busyness.
Here there is peace all of the time. Is there such a thing as too much quiet? It's hard to be at peace in a busy place, with sun shining on my face. The sun is different there. There are too many high buildings to get a lot of direct sunlight. Here there is direct sunlight all of the time. Here I look for shade wherever I go. I think it is called nostalgia. I don't know if it is one of the stages of grief but I think it should be. I may have to pull some more thoughts out of the old nostalgia closet.