Bright (NYC)

A Story by Abishai100

Narrated view of an American writer/bureaucrat whose 'quest' for magic/depth may draw in him (and us!) a 'form' for purified 'walking' (for the soul).

A post-midnight adaptation of Bright Lights, Big City (Michael J. Fox), for those who like to 'ruminate' on being/becoming an 'American' writer. Hope you like (and thanks for reading!),

====

I'd been working for Gotham (fanzine) after graduating with my handy Ivy-degree (United States) and thought about how haunted I felt after the death of my beloved grandmother (Bonnie) and decided to craft this Depression into a living window-view inspiring a great American novel. I thought about my self, and my Selfie, and how I'd been whiling away time at my NY publishing house desk-job while spending countless hours in the night-life of the post-9/11 era US-city of darkened skies which didn't (indeed) deter me from participating in social-media culture handshakes (with other Ivy-intellectuals/nerds).

When you lose the light in your eyes, after your beloved granny passes-away, you decide no one will ever (never) make that same 'brand' of homemade jam like she did (for you!) and feel this vacuum from the Black-Hole of the universe which maybe can only be filled with a worthy writing experience/exercise, and I decided that writer's 'medicine' would come in the form of some post-9/11 era Homeland superstition story about living in NYC in this age of terrorism destabilizing everyday commerce/traffic (for the Ego).

ME: "I sat in front of my digital typewriter, impressed by the machine itself, but I couldn't put into the straight-word why my Great Depression would 'draw' in me a cool superstition concept of resilience in capitalism-race activity following a truly 'heavy' loss (for the Ego)."

"Why'd I decide to become a writer?" I asked myself cautiously? Perhaps it was Dreiser's view of American sadness and misfortune created by a self-made form of incomplete insanity and complete ruin. I wanted to put into words what I failed to put into practice, despite being quite popular in college and fond of life/living when I was growing up in the Homeland-Jersey 'environment' of storyteller-richness. Wow, maybe what I (really) needed was an examination of beauty/superstition (for the soul).

ME: "I took that Alka-Seltzer and decided my New York apartment lifestyle was quite calm/peaceful and nutrition-conscious and simply wanted a breathing examination or 'exercise' to hash-out why my desperate search for words would form a special form of emotion-made-weak."

No, what I needed was to get-out and into the street-lights of the post-midnight life of NYC, despite those darkened skies created by this 'Belfast-feeling' that one was suddenly and 'hauntingly' living in the shadow of anti-American terrorism paranoia (ha). However, I needed to move around (anyways) and find the club-or-shop experience to find those great/rich words for my great American novel about capitalism-race life/superstition. This is New York, and it's bright...and it's (all) causality (hmm).

ME: "I recount my days as a younger man, seeking more daring and 'intelligent' forms of activity in the Earth-net, playing Facebook-chess constantly and finding 'dashing' ways to court numerous lovely ladies of this 'vast' Homeland...maybe what I need now is to stare at this younger Selfie and find new vision for a new courtship courage (yeah)."

Well, I found that inspiration in the form of that 'faerie-princess' I sought all this time in New York, and she was working in a great seafood dive in NYC and introduced herself in her Coronavirus mask which didn't hide her beauty/charm and fell in love (simply) with this waitress --- Esmerelda (wow).

ESMERELDA: Will you marry me?
ME: I know, you ask me, I know (why)...because my homemade chowder is tops.

ESMERELDA: Is there (any) superior reason?
ME: I think of that memory of your encounter...and my life's improved!

ESMERELDA: Then think about it (sure).

ME: "I decided to rent a car and drive across the bridge and stare into the night skyline of building lights and traffic and imagined the 'ant-men' of this city and wondered if I should marry Esmerelda and thought about my beloved grandmother (wow)."

ESMERELDA: Why the bookstore for V-day?
ME: There's no superior gift for Valentine's than a rare edition of a great work.

ESMERELDA: I don't read (much)...since college.

ME: Sure...that's why I want to find something (for you).

ESMERELDA: Thanx.

Esmerelda/I went clubbing and I knew I found a cool revelation that would 'draw' in me a good story and to perfect society --- I'd have to create a 'synthetic' mind-image of life in New York for a 'wrought' post-9/11 era American novel. I'd become a 'secret' success (yes).

Well, fortune favors the brave, but misfortune is a 'key' in New York, and mine came in the form of awful temptation, in the form of a sexy dancer in a night-club who 'dared' me to leave Esmerelda while I was (very) drunk, and I knew I'd become my own form of doom and self-ruin, something like that awful pensive protagonist antihero from that Dreiser work I mentioned so long ago. However, I found this strange spiritual 'word' to transcend this fool's chess-move (ha). This would be simply a social-media memory for cheeky laughs/randomness.

BOSS: Did you check the facts in that article about Dreiser?
ME: I wrote my thesis about Dreiser, Clara.

BOSS: Don't call me Clara, Mr. Satan; finish your duties by Friday (pls).

ME: Yes, yes...of course; don't doubt my insanity, Clara (yes).

BOSS: I get this 'shadow' feeling you're being smug and not a sportsman.

ME: I value my job (here); I won't let myself ruin my writing-view(s).

BOSS: Alright!

"My writing views?" I whispered to myself? What did my Hitler-like boss (Clara) care about my 'daydream' of becoming a great American writer? I decided to get myself a 'sportsman-treasure' image, a very nice youth-market Sabatini (women's tennis) 'diamond' reminiscent of those great late-'80s and early-'90s day of pro-sports (TV) when you simply 'cheered' like a child for those 'celebs' who defied the norms and created special rivalry 'moments' of miraculous handshakes (wow).

ME: "This was a treasure that would spark my novel-conception of that superstition 'key' for capitalism-race 'culture' to cast my American novel as a work of magic (for the mind)."

ESMERELDA: You got me a Gators-toy set/model setting for my b-day?
ME: I thought about flowers...but that would've been anticipatory belief.

ESMERELDA: We need to get married, Mr. Satan.

ME: I know that; I 'believe' this will keep you romantic (for my life).

ESMERELDA: Alright.

ME: "Had I become a Hamlet of cliched TV-hypnosis and self-stalling ruin in delaying my marriage to Esmerelda and hence entreating my capitalism-race 'indulgence' to simply wallow in the 'color' of sports-market weirdness (hmm)?"

So that's my NYC-bright story. I continue to work on my 'great' American novel, and I consider the right 'time' to ask Esmerelda to marry me (wow). I still mourn the loss of my beloved granny whose jam was superior (sure). I posted my Selfie recently (black-and-white) with a wry comment about post-9/11 era paranoia of modern Homeland life. However, life in New York is becoming better for this self-conceived writer...for a 'good' share.