New York Far Niente   New York.  Even in Chicago I still feel
its gravity from time to time, it having pulled in some of my
closest friends, both my siblings, and a slew of peripheral
people from the foggy past. It insists upon itself in that way,
forcing you to play its games: finding a place to stay, applying
for dinner reservations, darting on the train to the faraway
corners where everyone is living. Inevitably I’ll run into some
old friends who want to know what I’m doing. They’re swamped
with a thousand projects, wanting to know what I’m up to as
well, and when I respond that I like to sit around talking,
cook, eat, and do nothing, their eyes widen and then look away.
Insanity. Life in New York requires an agenda. My sister called
me a month in advance with that familiar phrase: “What’s your
plan?”  The truth is I barely had one, apart from seeing my
friends: Deniz was in town, with her spring-breaking sister
Piril who I hadn’t seen for years, Marguerite had moved back
after nearly making a break for Ba