There's a reason why there's a state named after me

You've all just lost me to this city. I am completely and utterly wrapped up in its not-so-welcoming arms. And it's because those arms are so large, so harsh, so hairy and all encompassing that I love it. I'm being strangled. I'm calling out to the people around me; but not to be saved. To be joined.

Manhattan is more than just a city. And it's more than just an island. There is not a square inch (nor centimetre for that matter) of space that is not being occupied by someone or something. Or a story. This place is a bacterial breeding ground for one liners that you hear walking past the 1,500,000 people who live here. To give you an idea, Melbourne has about 20,000 people. Check out www.overheardinnewyork.com for examples. This just further adds to the reasons that I feel like I will be back here someday. And I'll be working in one of these unnatural constructions, for one of those social constructions. The buildings quite simply never end. Not even when you reach the shore. And then you can see the gulf that engulfs your sense of perception even more.
Because across those shores you can see the dimmed glow of Brooklyn - reflected in Downtown's late afternoon haze, but at a somewhat smudged degree.
Further up you find yourself looking across at Queens, seemingly most well known outside Queens itself as the birthday place of Nanny Fine. Again, it is so close that you can hear that nasal assault on the eardrums from 1st Avenue.
The Bronx is the next peninsula north again, although all I know about it is that my subway line is somehow more there than here. Although I have ideals of their inhabitants having those deep, vibrating voices that scare dogs and mimic the subwoofer cars that always seem to be coming down from Harlem.
Staten Island remains illusive. Not even the name has connotations yet.
And the only knowledge I have of Jersey is that I have my first winter purchase coming from a store on their shores.

This all said, when I refer to being in love with New York, I refer to the isle of Manhattan. Here, it is not a city, but many diverse cultural hubs that intermingle with each other between the wary gaze of the million eyed buildings. No matter where you are, you can always look up and feel like you are being looked down. The concept of a townhouse is foreign here. The lowest building I've seen is 5 stories. And no, I'm NOT exaggerating.
As a result, the buildings seem to lean in on you. You're so curious about all of these little worlds, and yet they seem equally curious about you. If you close your eyes and stop, sometimes I swear that you can hear them whispering.

...

No that was a complete lie. Number 1, if you closed your eyes you would be run over. Number 2, if you closed your eyes and stopped you'd be robbed. Number 3, if you closed your eyes and stopped and thought you could hear whispering voices, well, you'd probably still be saner than about 2/3rds of the population here.
Ie-
"PITTED DATES* Ingredients: Dates. *May contain pits"
"Organic Dry Cleaners"
(sign held by homeless man) "Obama isn't the only one who wants change"
(overheard in a clothes store) "Yeah, listen, I'm just at the dentist right now"
(overheard on the corner of 3rd and St Marks) "But wha do yah wanna fahkin eat fah fahkin tea mah mathafahkin nigga"

Yes he said all of that and then used the word 'tea'.

And then there was my first subway ride. I was going from Spring to 59th, and on the second stop, 5 very large, jolly, overall wearing black guys walked in. One of them began to hum, while another spoke in a voice that bubbled like champagne.
"And ah hope tha ya'll havin a lov-ah-lay mornin this here mornin. Today we's gonna give ya'll some traditional gah-sple singin. Ah hope ya'll enjoy, an give generously people".
And they started to sing in 5 part harmony. They walked up the carriage slowly, with some of the most heart-evoking smiles emitting from their faces as the melodies and the 'OH LORD'ies cascaded over their full lips, with their white teeth acting as the crest of the wave.
I was completely at their mercy mercy me. The soloist took me by the hand, pulled me out of my sticky seat and spun me around. They jiggled paper bags of coins in time to their steps and their respective beats, adding another dimension to their story. They began to clap on the off beats with their heavy fingers. The largest man reached the end of the path and twirled himself around on of the poles with cat-like elegance. And then all too quickly, the train came to a thudding halt, the doors sounded, they hummed one last resonate note, and they were gone. All they left was a carriage full of angry, caffeine-hungry business men,
and one grinning newbie.

Welcome to New York.