In my last year of college, while many a friend was drinking him- or herself into nostalgia-induced oblivion and everyone else was L-I-V-I-N it up, I was racked with months of hand-wringing anxiety about where I would move. (At least I knew what I would do.)
Would it be:
London? This locale was certainly tops on my list with the cheeky charm of the metropolis. This might be my favorite large city I have visited, but I did not find the dollar-pound ratio quite so alluring.
Austin? I have some friends there, and truthfully, my rationale wasn't that great: why NOT live in the home of Austin City Limits? I am still very intrigued with Texas town, but full disclosure: I've never been there.
Los Angeles? A dear high school friend of mine has spent the past year out there and made a very convincing case of why I should move there. I can't remember what it entailed, but I think it was sunshine.
Some other half-hearted options included Seattle, Portland- for a hot minute, and San Francisco.
And then finally, New York? I spent a summer here in 07 but was still pretty on the fence about if I wanted to head up here. I've referenced the true clincher in a previous post that I'm sure my three readers thought was my typical snarky irony. But in all seriousness, I moved to New York after reading "Valley of the Dolls." It's not my usual literary fare, but if you live in NYC or are thinking of moving to Manhattan, this is the book for you. In spite of the numerous affairs, backstabbing, and of course, pills, the pills! VotD proves what those fully enamored of the city have long known:
things happen here.
So check out the book or movie to see what I mean. I can't make any promises about the artistic integrity of either work, but I assure you- you'll see what I mean.
