Slipstreams and New York City
A portrait of love and longing.
A slipstream is a region behind a moving object in which a wake of fluid (typically air or water) is moving at velocities comparable to that of the moving object.1 I think of slipstreams as I walk down Brooklyn streets and rattle along in the Q train. New York City exists in the wake of itself, everyone moving in their own velocities, impatience communicated through honking horns. The initial objects of NYC have long since passed, but their ghosts pull you along. It is easy to let them. I am guided by movement recreating itself: wide-eyed, floating, and in love.
Long-distance travel always brings tears to my eyes. Even an hour-long flight has me watching the clouds for shapes with messages meant for me. I lose myself in the playlist I’m listening to, my insides swirling to the lyrics and energy of whatever plays next. I become all desires realized. I soak in every detail because I know I am lucky to live in the part of history where I get to see the clouds from above. I can string together these moments in planes, trains, long car rides, and access the mix of gratitude and wonder they spark in me.
I feel romantic about just about everything - I’m fighting embarrassment. My intrusive thoughts adopt the voices of my loved ones and tell me that I am too much, my loving emotions are cringe-worthy and annoying. I am ruining something ineffable. I am unwanted if my feelings are with me. My response to this is to wonder what’s wrong with me, which cements the thoughts into place rather than scatters them. I toss-and-turn between wanting to understand where all of this is coming from and just wanting to let it all go, but it is caught in my slipstream, moving at my velocity.
If an object is following another object, moving at the same speed, the rear object will require less power to maintain its speed than if it were moving independently.2 My memories of New York trail behind me effortlessly. I turn around and there is my friend F cooking shakshuka in their kitchen for V, M, and I. I can’t believe you’re all here! We’re playing volleyball in Prospect Park until our arms are bruised. We’re spending hours on the couch playing Ravenhearst, watching the Break Dancing Olympics, and laughing until our bellies hurt at JackBox games. There’s a teashop called Floating Mountain where I am all melancholy and smoky red. There’s an arcade where we play Pinball, Mrs. Pacman, and Skee-Ball until I’m exhausted. We are all full of joy and love for each others’ company, the days slipping by so sweetly.
The visit is over, and I am overcome. Why do I feel so alone in the depths of these feelings? Is this simply how everyone experiences longing? Now, I have stepped back into the regular rhythms of my life. I almost forgot how full it was, patiently waiting for me back in Pittsburgh. When I’m not working, I’m cleaning and unpacking from my recent move and seeing my friends. I have an exciting list of concerts upcoming on my calendar: Childish Gambino/WILLOW, Porter Robinson, and STRFKR. I’m starting to teach a class for the first time on Monday. I am building a world within my community and my home where I am safe and cared for. My life is abundant with all feeling.
I am releasing the compulsion to understand myself. There is no hidden secret to uncover. It is simply overwhelming to be accepted and desired by those who love me - it’s showing me I am worthy of acceptance. My authentic self is expressive, dorky, and cries when he sings. No one is trying to change me and I can grow in whatever direction I’m drawn into. Reassurance and reciprocity flow towards me naturally. Three of my other long-distance friends reached out to me since I returned home, telling me that they were thinking of me. The more I’m exposed to these things, the easier it is to brush insecure worries from my wake. Everywhere I go, there is a space waiting for me, ready to sweep me away.
New York City holds itself up to me like a mirror I can step into. I am overflowing with a love that heals all the shame of love, that sheds the hardened layers of my heart so that it is a child once more. I write it and sing it. It is in my dreams and my laughter. The Divine has gifted me this feeling that extends forward into eternity. All of the pain in my life has allowed me this depth. I have hurt so that I could love so fully.
Same as above ^
This feels so beautifully stream-of-consciousness. It reminds me of how I would like to write when I’ve sat down with my journal but my mind is so full and scattered I just stare at the blank page.
This piece holds so much nostalgia both through your writing and my own memories of visiting NYC. I also relate to the adjustment of going back home after being in the rhythm of another place.