I think I love New York more for what it represents than what it is. It’s where I went for spring break in law school. It’s where I landed within hours of taking the bar exam. It’s where I went AWOL while deployed to Andrews AFB, MD to get away from a jackass supervisor. So when the opportunity to go back for BlogHer came up, I was all over it.
My first objective was to see my friend since the 3rd grade, Jeremy. While entering his building, we ran into his downstairs neighbor.
Jeremy: “Mr Thompkins, this is Michael. I’ve known him since I was 8.”
I love that I know people who can say that. More than chicken wings.
My next objective was to replace the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned: the black Campers I bought in SoHo in 2004.
Then, it was dinner near Jeremy’s place in the West Village and off to his friend’s art exhibit.
It was naked chicks with bloody faces and bloody girlie parts. I think the message was that the forced nudity of women is like violence against women. Or that chicks who get naked bleed a lot, since they don’t have layers between their skin and the rough edges one encounters when doing womanly things. Yes, that’s it.
An exhibit about women and art was a great preface to a conference I was slated to attend a couple days later. Inspired, I made my own art. See how artsy I am?
Jeremy had to shoot at 8 the next morning, so we returned to his apartment around midnight. I decided I must go back out. And out I went.
The next day I went by the MOMA for some more questionable art, like this boat of purple penises:
I had to twitpic this thing and ask for an explanation. The best response was “Barney’s pubes?” Yes. Barney’s pubes.
That night, I attended a small party at the Ralph Lauren headquarters and met Ralph’s son, who’s an executive in charge of some stuff and told interesting stories about how his father started this company that sells lots of great clothes, a few of which I purchased just a few days prior!
See how sophisticated I look?
A bunch of us went out to a nearby Irish pub, where feelings of affection for the female blogging community further blossomed.
Then a bunch of us ended up at a karaoke bar where I lost my voice for the next 4 days. There are videos. I’m not going to link to them. Ah, screw it…yes, I will.
At some point, I finally met Faiqa, whom I greatly enjoyed getting to know, until she declared all over Twitter that I have “serial killer glasses.”
I attended more sessions Friday (sitting by one of my favorite persons online), met a couple dad bloggers (the latter taking a tremendous amount of coaxing to come up to the Hilton, as he wasn’t attending the conference but lives in town) I’ve wanted to meet for a while, had dinner with my childhood friend and his sister, and then attended Sparklecorn, where the pictures indicate I danced during a song or two.
After the Cheeseburgher party that followed, a bunch of us hung out in somebody’s hotel room until my usual bedtime of 4.
I caught up with my favorite resident of the United Kingdom.
And she tearfully thanked me for supporting BHJ’s run for her son. At which point I realized: maybe the blogging thing is more than silly stories, sleepless nights, and shitty iphone pictures. Maybe…just maybe…it’s changing lives.