I was born in Queens to parents from the Bronx and Brooklyn. I fell in love with the city early. Maybe it was the giant pretzels and views from atop the Empire State Building. More likely, it was Broadway. Interviewing the cast of 'A Chorus Line' when I was nine. Seeing 'Phantom' with my dad when I was ten. The theme of my Bat Mitzvah was Lindsay's Manhattan Magic. (Yes, we had themes and I still have the cute, black, graphic tee with a skyline and bubble font.) My biggest regret (before the age of 18) was choosing Cornell over Columbia. I still imagine what it would've been like to spend four years as a college student in the city of New York.

I grew up on Long Island and enjoyed days, nights and weekend trips to the city via the LIRR with family and friends. My first job out of college was at New York Magazine, I temped at hedge funds and big law firms while pursuing a life in the arts, and I even worked 2 1/2 years for Rudy Giuliani in private practice before he jumped the shark (more on that another time).

Like many of my fellow New Yorkers, I was part of the city's devastation and rebuild after 9/11, Sandy, and the blackouts. I was also part of things I now regret, like moving into a high rise luxury building in an area of Brooklyn that was subject to rezoning laws + unethical methods to gentrify and displace people of color.

Leading up to and after the election of the fascist who shall not be named, I began to feel the city was losing its magic as rents skyrocketed, theaters became corporatized or went out, artists struggled more and more to survive, and people struggled even harder to make a living. Iconic nightlife venues and restaurants closed. The trifecta of Duane Reade, Starbucks and bank X populated every other corner.

My New York love story took a dramatic turn when I chose to leave in April of 2019. I didn't have an opportunity in LA. Nothing was waiting for me out here besides the promise of relief. Deuces, NYC, we are done! At that point, I was "over it," and the way I summed up my experience was that it was akin to Ross and Rachel. New York and I were going on a break.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that the break, a relocation to Los Angeles, would lead to watching my home go through what it is currently enduring. And the enormity of the feelings I would have as I witness it all from afar but feel it like I am still living in my Chelsea studio on 15th and 7th.

I am still here in California, for now, on what feels like something of an extended retreat against the most dystopic backdrop that is 2020. I bike to Venice beach and hike the Santa Monica mountains. Zoom from home. Drive a KIA. Enjoy the empty space noise instead of the city's sounds of subways, shouts + murmurs, music, horns honking, and the cooing of pigeons (yes, I think of them, too) that became my inner soundscape after 22 years.

A lot has and will be said, written, and made on what New York has been through since March. I know many people who have left. Many more who remain. It is a very emotional time. I feel for all of you.

I am shocked I will not be going home to the New York I once knew while I also stand by with the UTMOST faith that the city, thanks to its people, will heal and recovery, and rise again. I think about young artists mounting plays in black boxes, crowds of tourists bumping up against each other in Times Square, executives walking to their office at 7:30am in their sharpest suits, and all the dogs. I see JFK and Laguardia at mass capacity, causing lines and annoyance. I imagine a day in the life and the nightlife. This is where my imagination goes and I can't help it; reality may indicate otherwise but for now, from my little corner of the world it brings me comfort to reflect in this way.

New York, I love you.