I recently read EB White’s Here is New York and immediately wished I possessed such powers of prose and wit to render my own spin on the city. Is there anything I can say about New York that has meaning or value? Probably not, but it wouldn’t hurt to practice and to jot down a few observations here and there. Today was an unusually warm day for January, perhaps in the low fifties, and the weather encouraged me to catch a late movie, something I normally wouldn’t do on a Sunday night.

I walked east on 42nd Street to catch the N to 57th Street, where the movie was playing at the Paris Theater. Being located in a posh neighborhood, the Paris Theater is a one-screen venue which usually selects artsy independent films, recent European releases, or documentaries. My previous screenings have included Winged Migration, a French documentary about the migration of birds, and A Very Long Engagement, a French movie about a woman in search of her long-lost fiance after World War I. Tonight’s selection was The White Countess, a Merchant Ivory production about a blind American diplomat who builds his dream bar in Shanghai against the backdrop of political uncertainty. My reasons for watching this movie were very specific: 1) the script was written by Kazuo Ishiguro, one of my favorite novelists, 2) the film was directed by James Ivory, whose work and style I admire very much, and 3) it was playing at the Paris Theater, which, with its soft velvet seats and screen curtains, is a nice change in scenery from the crowded brighty-lit megacineplex. And it happens to be located right next to the Solow Building (Nine West), which always fascinates me and makes me wish more buildings in New York had its elegant yet very functional architectural design.

Backtracking a bit, I walked east on 42nd Street. The walk from 8th Ave. to 7th Ave. is a long and slow one, especially on a day when the weather has people unafraid of the outdoors. It is a carnival compressed to a sidewalk. Street vendors sell Sabrett hot dogs and salted pretzels, and I catch a whiff of slightly burnt beef coming from a steaming row of shish kebabs waiting to be bought by a hungry tourist wanting to taste something “genuinely” New York. The Chinese artists sit and quickly draw charcoal portraits for patient customers, most of them Latino families who would like to see their children skillfully drawn on paper. I wonder how everyone can sit still outside for so long – I’ve probably grown too sensitive to uncontrolled climates. A few Chinese artists don’t seem to be having any luck and stand idly, next to the African-American man who superimposes photographs on popular magazine covers and prints them right away on his photo printer. I’m always wondering how he powers his workstation because it isn’t plugged in to anything – probably some sort of battery that can last him all day. Walking by Madame Tussad’s wax museum, I see for the three hundredth time giddy tourists posing next to the wax figure of Samuel L. Jackson, which seems to have become an almost permanent fixture on the street. People of all races and ethnicities enjoy being next to it, which makes sense since many of those same people probably enjoy watching him in movies.

In the Times Square subway station, I see a lone Korean man readying his traditional drumming equipment to perform at the spot which also hosts, at different times, break dancers, singers, and men who dance with life-size dolls. The Korean drummer cannot start because down the stairs near another exit, two African-American men are already playing on two drum sets which they’ve managed to set up as if it was inside a studio. I take a peek at the Korean drummer’s drum case to see how he’s been making out on the donations. I see a few dollar bills and change.

Waiting for the Uptown N, I notice a rat crawling around on the tracks. As much as I would hate to see a rat in an apartment setting, I always find myself enjoying the sighting of rats in the subway, especially when I am standing on a platform and the rat is a few feet below. This rat seems to be scavenging for food but quickly disappears when it hears the sound of an oncoming train. I step into the familiar orange and yellow seats of the N and try to read a few pages from Murakami’s collection of short stories. The one I happen to read on this short ride is called “The Kangaroo Communique,” a very bizarre piece about a department store clerk who replies to a consumer’s complaint in an amusing manner. When I get off the train, I overhear people speaking in Korean. It’s two young daughters and their mother getting off at the same stop as me. As I quicken my pace towards an exit, I wonder if they are a family visiting from Korea and staying at a very nice hotel, since there are some fine hotels very close to the area. I also wonder if they are coming back from Koreatown after dinner.

The older “prewar” buildings in the 50s and 60s Sts. of Manhattan never cease to amaze me. The intricate patterns and figures carved out of stone adorn the facades of buildings, which proudly wear a look of permanence and stability. The glass-happy buildings of residential and office skyscrapers may be sleek, but I sometimes prefer opaque walls. Tonight, however, I dash my hopes of living in a prewar home anytime soon, especially in an expensive neighborhood so close to Central Park. The walk, however, leaves no trace of despair, and I enjoy imagining how each tenant has decorated his or her interior space.

I meet up with Wook, who has come down from Columbia via the 1 and is carrying with him Louis Menand’s American Studies, which I strongly encouraged him to buy a few months ago when we were browsing books at Strand Bookstore near Union Square. We enter to watch the movie. The theater is mostly empty on this Sunday night. A few couples, all of them white, are scattered throughout the theater. An Asian woman, probably in her late forties, sits by herself in the row in front of us. She is elegantly dressed in clothes of the Neiman Marcus/Saks Fifth Ave. caliber – the camel-colored coat definitely seems cashmere. She is tall and thin, and in watching a movie like this on her own, I find myself crediting her character as a cultured one and wonder if she might be an Ishiguro fan like me. After the movie ends, she walks out and disappears. Wook and I, having enjoyed the film, make our way back towards Columbus Circle to take the subway to our respective locations. I decide to take the A back, which is also where the 1 happens to be.

An African-American man standing at the corner of a street calls out for us and asks for a dollar. When we casually ignore him and walk by, he calls out and tries hard to get our attention but finally gives up. We hear him making the same request to someone else. I wonder what his success rate has been. Wook notices a store that sells very expensive-looking pianos and also spots a man walking two dogs – one of the dogs has a stuffed animal in its mouth. A little bit further, Wook points out to a parked yellow cab inside which three cab drivers are playing cards and smoking. We both let out appreciative laughs, and as condescending as we may be from time to time in this heavily class-stratified city, there’s a warm moment of identification with these drivers and their time of relaxation and bonding.

Walking west on 42nd Street towards my apartment building, I think about things New York has meant to me. The way it’s made me so conscious about race, class, and status. The way I sometimes envision myself becoming a certain kind of New Yorker down to every minute material detail. The way I’ve made my decisions in shaping my own version of New York – the things I’ve seen, the food I’ve eaten, the people I’ve met. It’s nothing too deep and I try not to make it a nostalgic thing, but I do tell myself not to get complacent with the city – not yet. There are still corners to explore with fresh eyes, appetites to fill with varying budgets, and a heart to open to new people. And perhaps a prewar apartment to inhabit before it’s all too late.

Here is New York.

i mentioned the somewhat arbitrary notion of the “year” in last year’s Year in Review entry, and my mind hasn’t changed much on the subject since, but i can’t help but to continually find myself participating in the yearly ritual of listing resolutions, recalling the events of the previous year, and Looking Ahead to 2006. but before any of those, a musing (probably used by someone else already) on the New Year.

I Begin 2006 By Comparing the New Year to Snow
a new year, excuse the corny analogy, is a bit like fresh snow. in looking out the window at a world covered in clean, untainted white, it’s sometimes only natural to have that feeling of hope and renewed excitement. maybe it recalls in one’s mind the innocence of childhood, when snow meant a cancelled school day and fun time with neighborhood kids either sledding or throwing snowballs. but this joyous feeling is fleeting. we soon dread the slush, the messiness of snow in our hairs, the salt that corrodes the sides of our cars, and how that beautiful white somehow dirties itself into a sooty substance, sometimes hardened to ice. the new year offers many possibilities, many promises that this year you will not repeat the mistakes of previous ones, and the hopeful sort of anxiety that maybe this year, you’ll finally succeed in reforming or renewing yourself in some manner — until the snow turns brown, or even yellow. example: i promised myself that i would seek out healthier foods and take my time chewing and swallowing in 2006. on my way to see my family in New Jersey on New Year’s Day, i found myself at a stop-and-dine joint at Penn Station chomping down an egg-cheese-sausage sandwich in less than 5 minutes – i can see the smear on the snow already. by the end of the week, most of the snow will have been tainted, and by the end of the month, the snow will probably have melted. but this is not so disheartening as it may sound. it’s a seaonsal thing, and for this time of year, it’s good that i’ve grown accustomed to a mandatory sort of self-reflection and evaluation. if anything, it’s just something to jot down and look back on each year. and at its best, i hope i’ll have the determination and discipline to make some of these observations and self-criticisms bear fruit.

Resolutions: The Same Cliches, Rephrased Slightly Differently
There’s an important thing you should know about reading my resolutions: they’re written for you as much as they’re written for me. Writing up a resolution for public viewing means that i’ve written them with a certain discretion and even some cunning calculation – so it’s an attempt to make myself seem as industrious/cool/attractive as it is a pitiful attempt to improve my personal being. Just thought you ought to know, that’s all. Oh, and the order is completely arbitrary — all are of high importance. Here goes:

1) Save! As in, save MONEY. And from a conversation with Wook, I agree with him that it’s not so much about “not spending money,” since money inevitably gets spent, but it’s about spending it smartly and wherever possible, stashing it away and forcing myself to not touch it. I need to figure things like “budget” and “moderation” into my vocabulary. And to think – I work in an industry that deals soley with money!

2) Be a Better Banker Okay, i have to admit that i’m not that good at what i’m being paid to do. Some of it is because i’m just not used to things, but some of it also has to do with my inability to completely immerse myself in the work. But the last few weeks of December provided some excitement at work, so I think it’s a sign that i can learn lots, and more importantly, want to learn lots. Job satisfaction is important to happiness, I hear.

3) Healthier Living This should be a daily thing rather than a yearly resolution since without health, everything else is pointless. I think reducing the intake of cancer sticks, eating healthier (and slower), and exercising more would help me best.

4) Time Manangement Since Wook and I have great plans for our design venture, and i have about half a dozen personal projects waiting to be accomplished, i need to remind myself once again that chatting/web surfing/and sitting idly – while helpful at times – should generally be avoided. plus, i need to read more books and watch more films. so let’s shove all these Need To Do things under the banner of Managing My Time More Efficiently.

5) Be Less Selfish Probably the hardest one, since i’m pretty selfish and think about myself and my well-being like 99.9% of the time (this blog is living record of that). I need a serious Huey Long style Share the Wealth Plan for my mind and give some more thought to family members, friends, and others whose lives can positively be affected by me and hopefully without any ulterior motives other than that it makes me feel good to be of help to them. And if i’m ambitious, maybe I’ll take up an unpretentious, practical “cause” and devote my time to somehow Make Things Better. Mentoring, maybe?

Okay, i don’t think i need to continue on with the list. I just hope my Capitalizing Things I Deem Important was not as annoying to you as it was to me while reading this list over. I learned it from Consider The Lobster and Other Essays by David Foster Wallace, which by the way, is a great read.

2005: Transition and the Excitement That Comes With It
I don’t recall the end of high school and the beginning of college being as exciting as the end of college and the beginning of work life. It probably had to do with me having more interests and doing more things as an undergrad-turned-graduate. I was fairly one-dimensional in high school – loved to play sports with friends, didn’t read much, and liked to make fun of people. As a (hopefully) multi-dimensional character, i’d like to share a few moments of 2005, which carried all sorts of emotional highs and lows as well as satisfying accomplishments. as much as i’m tempted, i’ll steer clear of most romantic or overly-sentimental experiences since those should be self-evident from most of my short stories (or probably too personal/sensitive to share at this point in my life).

– theses writing: it’s one of those things i could’ve done much better if i had tried more, but my film and history theses, with much delay and begging, finally saw their conclusions and bibliographies. i can’t say i was proud of them, but i was happy to have gone through the motions and to emerge with acceptable grades (a pair of “A-“s)
– ksa culture show: there’s something very exciting about preparing 10 months for a one-night event. all the sleepless nights and moments of stressing summed up to a very pleasing experience, although i can’t say everything was perfect. but the friendships formed and lasting memorabillia were more than enough compensation.
– paris, france: fun, fun, fun.
– Senior Year and Graduation: it’s always sad to say goodbye, especially to a place i’ve totally loved and cherished for the past four years. i still go back often, but it’s not the same as an outsider. here’s a sentimental remembrance to studying at Butler, last-second papers, beers at West End, cab rides back from K-town, girls saying “no,” and unsatisfying naps in class. and of course, the people! our class speaker for graduation, Pats owner Bob Kraft, was terrible. i wish one day, i can become eloquent and successful enough to be invited as speaker, maybe to say some irreverent and controversial things, but overall, to provoke some laughter and hope people send transcripts of it to their friends long thereafter. haha. yeah right.
– my last day at the National Football League; wook takes over my spot; they gave me a watch, which actually still sits in wook’s cubicle.
– moving in: it’s a daunting and refreshing feeling to have your own place that’s paid with your own rent money and furnished with your own stuff. i live at 420 W 42nd Street between 9th and 10th Aves. you can infer a lot of things from my address. it’s close to work, and i have a nice view out the window. i will reconsider the wall color at my next location, since some people snicker at the mention of “baby blue” although it’s more of a “sky blue.”
– the Menand site: i always talk about this. Wally and I are very proud.
– the summer: beaches, nice restaurants, bottles of wine, and not a worry in the world.
– orientation: i don’t think i learned much during orientation, but i made some good friends. those days until 5pm in Jersey City are sorely missed now. the highlight of my orientation was my Series 7 experience, which made me believe momentarily that hard work is the key to sucess (it’s only part of the key – luck is perhaps a larger part as well as your definition of “success”).
– trip to Vermont with Andy
– The Hoching Post is given birth
– work and working, emailing friends during the day, using Seamless at 6pm sharp each evening, and wine breaks at Morrell’s on weeknights
– “Web Nights” at Lerner on Fridays with wook: a binge of design, coding, administration, and planning in hopes of establishing our own enterprise
– trip to Taiwan: awesome and heartwarming

A list never does justice to the entire scope of a year, but these are just some of the things that meant something to me and have continued to mean something to me. Not on the list is my newly inspired interest (as of earlier 2005) in literature and writing fiction. I’ve always liked to write fiction, but having been shown – by some special people – the merits of reading lots of novels, i’ve greatly enhanced my intellectual existence with the digestion of some great books. hopefully many more will be added to the list by end of ’06.

The Obligatory Theme-Talk
If, at the start of 2005, i labelled 2004 as a year of “anxiety,” then 2005 was a year of “motion” – the way i moved from one place to another, the way my feelings went up and down, the way the people i care about moved away, the way each morning is about getting up and going somewhere to do something, and the way every action i took was a new ripple that kept my existence a noticeable motion. i know that things will stay in “motion” in 2006 (don’t roll those eyes just yet!), but perhaps some of the decisions i make, having experienced a lot in 2005, will be better informed and wiser. it doesn’t have to be radical or out of character, but a finetuning of daily decisions – how much to spend on what, how about giving a bit more effort, etc. – and definitely a few larger ones will hopefully characterize my 2006. yes, the snow will turn to slush and eventually evaporate, but in the meantime, you can always keep parts of it undisturbed for as long as possible.