Cojones

The backside of the Wall Street Bull in downtown Manhattan, whose balls you have to rub for good luck when you come here.

The backside of the Wall Street Bull in downtown Manhattan, whose balls you have to rub for good luck when you come here.

I forgot to mention that when I was prancing around all those fabulous Halloween parties and events, as documented here, I thought to myself: New York, I’ve got you by the balls. I know I talk a lot of shit about wanting to leave (and I still do, having been here close to 20 years, I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome and it’s time for other places) and how it sucks some of the time (it certainly does in the winter and I’m feeling that again now). But I can’t deny that I really do have this city by the balls. I know where all the best underground events are, I can get into most of them for free, I know the way into the exclusive, invite-only or super hush-hush ones. Whenever anyone comes to New York from out of town, I usually know exactly where and how to show them a good time. So, yes, I won’t deny it, I’ve pretty much got it made here.

And whenever I leave, I’ll miss having a city, especially New York City, so firmly by the balls. But I’ll always cherish the massive pair of my own that this place helped me grow. And that I can take anywhere with me. Cause it’s true what they say: you certainly can’t survive here without growing a nice pair of cojones. So, thank you, for that and everything else., NYC!