Back in NYC. Hell’s Kitchen. The capital of nearly being hit by motorized bikes and shit smears on the sidewalk. Clothing suddenly abandoned in piles as though someone jumped right out of them and ran down the poo-smeared street in the nude. Maybe they did? A carriage driver running a red light
I'm hearing your words weave images of humanity and that poetry is the kind I want to connect with.
I have been staring into the future and it's making me feel deep blue and lonely in my heart. I am not alone and your stack helps keep me afloat. Hope our love gives you some buoyancy or girlancy even.
I guess New York is just not your cup of tea. There’s homelessness, mental illness and poop in every major city these days. It’s not exclusive to New York. It definitely is disheartening to see. On so many levels. But I still love New York. It has an energy and a vibe like no other. Maybe next time you’re there some thing will make you smile. I hope so.
I love your word paintings of New York City. As for the loneliness, it seems to be an innate part of creatives. If you are a sensitive person, tuning in to the world around you, opening to it, maybe too much comes inside. Carrying all that, processing it, is a way to make art but it is a fucking lot. The gift of noticing is a joy and a curse. Anyway, that's my hot take. But you are far from alone. I feel like I'm always crying lately, over a bird or the loss of a tree or something. The seemingly endless pain and war and sadness around. The lack of a smile returned, over and over again. So, I think, everyone is lonely. But we are stuck. Probably on a screen in our face. I'm glad there are people making art because that is connection. Truly. So thank you, Neko.
Words and music. I think it's interesting that the oldest musical instrument is 60,000 years old, while the oldest written language is merely 5500 years old, a tenth of age of the neanderthals whistle.
Having lived in NYC for over 20 years but now no longer, it's kind to hear you easily describe it so vividly and so close. Spend enough time there and all those little worlds could also bulge and barge in and pile on you just as much as not. But walking with you through your snapshot of a little surreal and the oddly beautiful really revives the balance of the place to me. It's good to know that that may always be found there.
I was a creative writing major and grad student, and I always had trouble choosing between prose and poetry, in the sense of people asking me, "Are you a novelist, essayist, or poet?" The answer to that question is, "Yes," but people don't buy it. I had to pick a concentration in grad school, so I chose poetry, and you understand the reason -- writing poetry really is like doing a puzzle, except that you're also designing the puzzle's structure, not just filling in the blanks. I find it so helpful to the writing process to have constraints.
It's getting on stinky-season in NYC, although I hope the humidity stays low enough to make it less terrible than it usually is in July and August. I somehow always wind up visiting NYC when they're having a garbage strike.
I love these kinds of glimpses into your world. They feel just like many of my favorite moments in your songs. Thank you for elevating exactly the little details you elevate.
I'm sorry you are lonely. I am too, and it seems others who read your posts are too. You've made me a little less lonely, with your eerily alive descriptions of places I've never been. I wish I could do the same for you. I've often relished noticing little dioramic worlds within the bigger one. I don't know why, but they make me feel less lonely too. There are connections I feel there, even though they are not necessarily known or planned by those who allow me to feel connected. Like your mention of crosswords, and I think of the wonderful Helen Zaltzman and her most recent episode of The Allusionist, in which she interviews crossword authors who create puzzles that speak to marginalized people. The threads of these associations begin to spin a delicate web of connected souls, and make it harder to feel as lonely as I did before. Thank you.
"humid little human forest" is achingly perfect poetry. I miss being lonely in new york! *hugs*
I'm hearing your words weave images of humanity and that poetry is the kind I want to connect with.
I have been staring into the future and it's making me feel deep blue and lonely in my heart. I am not alone and your stack helps keep me afloat. Hope our love gives you some buoyancy or girlancy even.
Thanks Neko.
Neko! I love your musical crossword puzzle 💙 Here's the song I told you about in Pomona, that was inspired by a pine cone:
https://tanyadonelly.bandcamp.com/track/golden-cut
xoxo Gabi
I guess New York is just not your cup of tea. There’s homelessness, mental illness and poop in every major city these days. It’s not exclusive to New York. It definitely is disheartening to see. On so many levels. But I still love New York. It has an energy and a vibe like no other. Maybe next time you’re there some thing will make you smile. I hope so.
Oh, no! I LOVE New York. The scenes and the people are part of it. I'm just listing as I notice.
This makes me very happy. I was born and raised there, but I no longer lived there. And I miss it.
Just know that there are a lot of us who care about you.
I love your word paintings of New York City. As for the loneliness, it seems to be an innate part of creatives. If you are a sensitive person, tuning in to the world around you, opening to it, maybe too much comes inside. Carrying all that, processing it, is a way to make art but it is a fucking lot. The gift of noticing is a joy and a curse. Anyway, that's my hot take. But you are far from alone. I feel like I'm always crying lately, over a bird or the loss of a tree or something. The seemingly endless pain and war and sadness around. The lack of a smile returned, over and over again. So, I think, everyone is lonely. But we are stuck. Probably on a screen in our face. I'm glad there are people making art because that is connection. Truly. So thank you, Neko.
Words and music. I think it's interesting that the oldest musical instrument is 60,000 years old, while the oldest written language is merely 5500 years old, a tenth of age of the neanderthals whistle.
Having lived in NYC for over 20 years but now no longer, it's kind to hear you easily describe it so vividly and so close. Spend enough time there and all those little worlds could also bulge and barge in and pile on you just as much as not. But walking with you through your snapshot of a little surreal and the oddly beautiful really revives the balance of the place to me. It's good to know that that may always be found there.
Feeling this too, and yes, nice to know it's shared. xx
I was a creative writing major and grad student, and I always had trouble choosing between prose and poetry, in the sense of people asking me, "Are you a novelist, essayist, or poet?" The answer to that question is, "Yes," but people don't buy it. I had to pick a concentration in grad school, so I chose poetry, and you understand the reason -- writing poetry really is like doing a puzzle, except that you're also designing the puzzle's structure, not just filling in the blanks. I find it so helpful to the writing process to have constraints.
It's getting on stinky-season in NYC, although I hope the humidity stays low enough to make it less terrible than it usually is in July and August. I somehow always wind up visiting NYC when they're having a garbage strike.
I am so enjoying your Substack articles. Discovered your music at 63 and have listened and shared your spectacularly unique music ever since.
Discovering your writing now at 65 and its wonderful.
I’ll be 67 in 14 months so I will be due for a new Neko discovery. You don’t sculpt, do you? LOL!
I was granted Neko Case serendipity circa 2010 when I was 46 and I am still worried I won’t get to entire catalogue. I hear you.
Better late than never.
I love these kinds of glimpses into your world. They feel just like many of my favorite moments in your songs. Thank you for elevating exactly the little details you elevate.
I'm sorry you are lonely. I am too, and it seems others who read your posts are too. You've made me a little less lonely, with your eerily alive descriptions of places I've never been. I wish I could do the same for you. I've often relished noticing little dioramic worlds within the bigger one. I don't know why, but they make me feel less lonely too. There are connections I feel there, even though they are not necessarily known or planned by those who allow me to feel connected. Like your mention of crosswords, and I think of the wonderful Helen Zaltzman and her most recent episode of The Allusionist, in which she interviews crossword authors who create puzzles that speak to marginalized people. The threads of these associations begin to spin a delicate web of connected souls, and make it harder to feel as lonely as I did before. Thank you.
Those shoes. Look to them for carpety inspiration.
I’m not capable of not ‘protecting my heart.’ ‘Fortunately’…or…not…
You love words and the words love you back !