Even though I’m growing older and older and pretty much all of this daydreaming is moot at this point, I do find myself thinking living in New York City at some point in the future.
“New York City” — an image generated by Gemini Advanced.
I have no idea how this might happen, but it is fun to think about. Now, of course, the key thing is, given my extroverted personality that I probably would be better suited for LA rather than NYC if I was starting from absolute zero.
But, I don’t know, it just seems like if I’m going to have any “success” in a big city it’s going to be NYC because it’s closer, if nothing else. I do continue to believe that if I could find a couch and access to the the subway for about six months that I would be the best known person in my borough.
I just don’t know. Maybe I’m sensing that something big — in a good way — is about to change in my life? Or not. I think what I may be feeling is I’m just about ready to get back to being creative again and I’m just, in general, in a better mood.
Hmmm. If someone gave me, say, $1 million in startup media cash, how would I use it? If I had a choice, I think I would invest in it some sort of experimental media company for the Apple Vision Pro that would link it to AI generated entertainment.
But if I *had* to work with legacy media, then, I think I would setup shop in Manhattan and start a zine of some sort that was really weird and really conspicuous. I would go out of my way to all but stalk the employees of the major media outlets in the city and physically hand them copies of the zine.
I would then leverage the buzz from that to make a really popular network of podcasts that would point people to a series of blogs.
And, yet, I think I’m too stuck in about 2006.
The media landscape is kind of meh at the moment and it definitely seems as though some combination of XR and AI is where we’re going to see all the cool stuff in the next few years (months?) There’s just no space left for any sort of new media outlet with a print component.
Print is all over but the shouting, as best I can tell.
So, I dunno. It will be interesting to see what the next few years see.
Even though I’m old as dirt and will never be “young in NYC” I do enjoy visiting The Big Apple on occasion. In fact, what I would really like to do is visit LA as well sometime. But if I did that, I would like to have three solid scripts written and that just isn’t going to happen anytime soon.
The thing about New York City is the energy. It really sparks my creativity whenever I visit. And there remains a part of me that thinks if I ever was able to live there long term that I would be the most famous person in my borough. I’m an extreme extrovert and something of a kook.
And, yet, I also think that maybe LA would be a better place for that particular element of my personality to get me somewhere. As I’ve said before, I think if I got invited to a cocktail party in LA I would inevitably catch some producer’s attention just because I would get drunk and hold court saying some really provocative and interesting things as the night progressed.
Yes, I know that every drunk thinks they’re the funniest, most interesting person in the room when, in fact, they’re just a drunk.
I do hope to visit NYC at some point in 2024. I just hope it’s not as a domestic political refugee when the country collapses into civil war or revolution in late 2024 after the election.
We all have the random delusion that we use to keep air in our lungs. For me, it’s the idea that if you just gave me the absolute basics of living in NYC — a couch to sleep on and access to the subway — that I could actually make quite a lot out of myself.
But, of course, I’m being rather delusional to think this for a number of reasons. One is, NYC is FULL of people who are just as colorful and weird as I am. Also, I’m old — and short. And, NYC is a lot different than LA. In NYC, it’s a lot more difficult to fake-it-till-you-make it than it is in LA.
NYC has some very cold, harsh metrics when any discussion of advancing your lot in life is brought up. And it helps if you’re young and cute. At least in LA, everyone is so obsessed with making in showbiz that if you’re good as schmoozing — which I am — people will at least listen to you.
But I am a bit long in tooth, I fear — especially for LA.
What is so interesting to me is the few people I know who live in NYC act like I’m an honorary New Yorker. They keep expecting me to move to NYC even though I’m a broke ass writer at the moment. But the few times I visited NYC I loved it. I really — REALLY — want to live there.
At the moment, there are two possibly ways I might make that dream come true.
One is, I sell my first novel, it’s a break out hit and I have the funds to move to NYC on my own terms. Score! The other, darker possibility is there’s a Second American Civil War and I’m forced to flee the South because, lulz, it’s 2025 MAGA SA is out for blood and wants to murder me.
I dunno. I’ve been sleep waking through my life for way, way, way too long. And maybe it’s too late. Maybe, This Is It. I’m have a heart attack or a stroke without even having the good sense to finish my first novel.
I’m not getting any younger. And, in fact, something pretty dramatic will have to happen pretty soon for me not to simply continue to drift in oblivion until I shuffle off this mortal coil.
Me, when I was a man on fire on Seoul.
But stranger things have happened, as they say.
I could sell this novel I’m working on and it become a huge success so I finally have the cash I need to make some of my many dreams come true. Or, I could fall into some cash and finally have enough to buy the photographic equipment I need to start a career in fashion photography. Or, far, far, far, far, far less likely, I could win the lottery one day. (Talk about dreaming being free!)
Anyway, in a sense, it’s just sad that I’m 20 years too old to make my dreams come true. Because I know that if you plopped me in New York City or LA that I would become quite well known pretty quick. NYC would be a lot more difficult than LA because the metrics by which success are measured are so brutal. You can’t simply schmooze your way to success in NYC like you can in LA. You need actual success, a lot of money, good looks and, in the case of being a man, a huge cock. (They called him Mr. Big for a reason, don’t you know.)
My late partner in crime while in Seoul, Annie Shapiro and me back at the height of ROKon Magazine’s success.
But the thing that for a number of years has made me very unhappy is I learned a lot about the “meta” of running a publication when I did ROKon Magazine in Seoul. I know, just know, that given any sort of opportunity that I could change the world.
This type of talk is boring now, after all these days. If I think I’m so great and wonderful, why don’t I simply save up the money to go to NYC or LA and put my theory to the test.
That, of course, is what I should do.
The first issue of ROKon Magazine.
But I suppose there are a number of different reasons why I haven’t — to date — done this. One is, I would want to land in NYC on my own terms. So, trying to be a fashion photographer in NYC is something I think I could probably pull off — but I also would want the proper equipment to do it right. Add to this that I’m 20 years too old to start any of this and I’m something of an eccentric when it comes to what I’m willing to do for money and…well, there you go.
I suppose if you were being a dick about it, you could say that all my talk about pulling of another ROKon Magazine, only in NYC or LA says more about me continuing to grieve over what happened with the magazine than any statement on my ability.
I just know that I learned so much about the meta of running of media company while in Seoul that it’s a shame that I probably will never get to use it — ever. And if that happens, it’s going to be my own damn fault.
Occasionally, I’ll feel a sense of dread, or just the feeling that Something Big is about to happen. Sometimes, it’s nothing. Other times, I fucking break my ankle.
I generally think gambling is the devil’s business, but I’m so desperately poor and it fits into my general belief that I’m special and destined for some sort of quirky greatness (wink) that I do, on occasion play the lottery.
I probably spend way too much brain power thinking what I would do with a sudden, significant windfall. The last time I checked, Mega Millions was up to $600 million. That may have changed recently, but I’m too lazy to double check.
Anyway, in my effort to manifest me winning the lottery, here is what I would do with all that sweet, sweet cash if I somehow miraculously won it.
Move To A Big City The first thing I would do is become one of those smug bi-costal people who humble brag about taking the Red Eye for this or that reason. With a few hundred million dollars to play with, I would buy two places to live — one in NYC and one in LA.
Start A Publication With all that money, I would hit the ground running. I would, I don’t know, buy The Village Voice brand or something. Or think up a new name. But whatever it was called, I would throw some money into starting a publication in the tradition of Spy and Gawker. Building this new media empire would consume my life, just like ROKon Magazine in Seoul did.
Hire Research Assistants For The Novels I would continue to develop and write six novels, but I would hire a few research assistants to lighten the load and make the end product much, much better.
Be A Bon Vivant Rather than be one of those lottery winners that flamed out, I would be like Mark Cuban who, if we’re honest, pretty much just won the lottery when he sold Broadcast.com to Yahoo for $1 billion back in the day. I would become an insufferable media personality that was always shooting my mouth off and doing weird, interesting things for the same of doing weird, interesting things.
Start A Dive Bar I would find a small venue somewhere cool in NYC and start a dive bar like Nori in Seoul where I used to DJ. I would be the DJ on the weekends and it would be really cool. Sort of a Studio 54 meets CBGBs vibe.
Become A Fashion Photographer I would throw money into buying all the equipment I need and then figure out how to become a fashion photographer. I have the talent, I just am very, very, very poor and if that changed in a big way then I would make myself known in the fashion industry.
None of this, of course, is ever going to happen. It’s just a daydream. I suppose if I sold my novel and it was A HUGE SUCCESS then some of the above might, eventually happen. But I wouldn’t count on it.
For the time being, at least, I’m reasonably content living in oblivion.
I hate to inform you that I’m no longer young. As such, even if I get what I want, which is to become a successful novelist / screenwriter / photographer and I turn into one of those insufferable wealthy liberals who can afford Blue Apron meals — I will never get to enjoy my youth in New York City or LA.
The only way I can console myself is by accepting that I did get to have some sort of youthful fun in Seoul a long time ago. That was pretty cool. But I really long to live in either NYC or LA.
I visit NYC every once in a while and I love it. I love it because of its energy and how much it reminds me of Seoul. In Seoul, however, people won’t talk to you because they can’t speak English while in NYC they won’t talk to you because they are too busy and they don’t care.
I think if I ever get a little extra money that my best shot is to go to LA because I’m a good enough schmoozer that I could probably talk myself into a three picture deal just by getting drunk and having a very interesting conversation with a producer.
But there comes a moment when I have to measure those expectations some. Unless I win the fucking lottery — which I suppose is possible — any success I have from this point on will be framed by my age.
I will be an “old person” who “came out of the blue” to be successful. But I can’t help that I’m a late bloomer and always have been. That’s just my lot in life. One thing I do know, however, is that I still have one last hattrick in me. I believe with all my heart that the best is yet to come.
I’m going to surprise a lot of people who think I’m a loser, or a failure or just another Internet crank. I’m going to be bonified, as they say.
I only rarely go to New York City. But every time I go, it is a real opportunity to recharge my creative batteries. Each time I go, however, I notice something about New Yorkers — they have very strong mental narratives about the city.
I say this because I’m something of a small town kook, or as the late Annie Shapiro would put it, I am a “delusional jerk with a good heart.” So, when I go to New York City and get drunk and talk to random people around me, once they get a sense of who I am, they dissociate.
The moment the get the sense that I have even the barest amount of kook in my personality, they not-so-subtly roll their eyes and start to do their taxes in the back of their mind. “Oh, so he’s one of THOSE guys,” they think.
I have to admit that I’ve learned a lot from this. Just going to NYC the few times I have has really toughed me up. I still long to live there one day. But, who knows. Wishes are like elbows and assholes.
You must be logged in to post a comment.