home.

I have been incredibly lonely for home recently.  It's not exactly a feeling of being homesick, it's slightly more than that.  I miss living in New York, waking up in New York, knowing that you have nothing to do and you will do nothing in New York.  Visiting is one thing; stops at John's, The Strand, Fishes Eddy, a quick detour through the park, a street vendor pretzel.  All of those things are well and good, but I miss the feeling of calling Manhattan my home.

My decision to move to Chicago was one of the best I've ever made and I will never, ever, look back on it with regret.  And no offense, Chicago!  I love you, you're great!  We have a beach down our block and your food is delicious, but you're just not New York.  We are committed to living in Chicago and one day growing our brood of gingers here, that has to say a lot about this new city of mine.  I guess all I can really hope is that they have my attitude and love visiting the streets their mama grew up on.

Chapter 1.
He adored New York City. He idolized it all out of proportion...no, make that: he - he romanticized it all out of proportion. Yes. To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin.
Er, tsch, no, missed out something.

Chapter 1.
He was too romantic about Manhattan, as he was about everything else. He thrived on the hustle bustle of the crowds and the traffic. To him, New York meant beautiful women and street-smart guys who seemed to know all the angles...
 No, no, corny, too corny for a man of my taste. Can we ... can we try and make it more profound?

Chapter 1.
He adored New York City. To him, it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. The same lack of individual integrity that caused so many people to take the easy way out was rapidly turning the town of his dreams in ...
No, that's a little bit too preachy. I mean, you know, let's face it, I want to sell some books here.

Chapter 1.
He adored New York City, although to him it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. How hard it was to exist in a society desensitized by drugs, loud music, television, crime, garbage...
Too angry, I don't want to be angry.

Chapter 1.
He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat.
I love this.
New York was his town, and it always would be... 

                          - Woody Allen, Manhattan