I have been in cars and trains and family houses trading family stories back and forth, and I have been treading and retreading the streets of a city that I have been afraid of since I visited it in the depth of my panic a year and a half ago. It isn't scary anymore, but it isn't a place I would want to live, either.

There are cities that make me want to write, and New York isn't one of them.

Then again, I have been barely able to write anything for months, now, so the city might have little to do with it.

I stayed with Lauren and saw her in action at Tenzan, lounged in the park with NoahWelch'n'Friends, picnicked at Coney Island with Eleni and Fink, walked Chinatown and downtown with Lauren and Frank, ate locavore and talked Buffalove with Megan. I slept a lot one night and got a little drunk one night, did much swift walking and subway hopping, much getting lost and skyscraper gazing, listening to other languages and voracious eating. I did not get to see two people who I very much wanted to and saw many more who I did.

I think I will try to go back in the soon months to finish what I left unfinished.

Then again, you never finish anyway.