industria argentina

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“Mejor no vuelvas, porque mientras no volvés, podés mantener la ilusión de tener una patria”.


for a minute i have to call into question everything i've ever held sacred and unique about the city of new york. that is, its gifts of publicity and privacy, which are bestowed freely and simultaneously from the same ever-flowing font, upon both its residents and those pilgrims who settle there in search of some greater or lesser grail. i admit finally that these phenomena are nothing unique or sacred to my otherwise sacred and unique city, but, again, part and parcel to living in any metropolis. new york city will remain sacred and unique to me in virtue of the fact that my mommy, my best friend who died, and my ex-girlfriend live/d there, among a myriad of other sacred and unique factors left later for discussion. and even in spite of these commonalities which to me right now are contradictions, i keep pride in where i'm from, and say i'm from new york city with such gusto that my argentine friends introduce me to their argentine friends as "harrison, de LA REPUBLICA de la ciudad nueva york," i think conveying some of its entailments if not understanding them. i love that stupid-ass city, and not for any of the reasons i originally thought i did. and as much as i miss the fuck out of it, i'm never going say i belong there because i know there's no such thing as belonging to anywhere. actually, the opposite. i love my city because its universally accepted as superior, a priori as a matter of irrefutable and irreducible first principles. new york is starts out as the greatest. and in that, my city is infinitely greater than i will ever be. and if i were to talk about city suiting a person, eyeballing BsAs you would think i was made to live here. it's mediocre as fuck. this country is a baby, and in its little life it's been through all kinds of hell. these people are proud like nobody i've ever seen, because they've literally been made worthless. they grow and build things here that a country like this has no business making, and they brand it with the mark of 'industria argentina' and consume it with the same pride they make it out of. when i walk in puerto madero all i can think about is how much prettier the Seine probably is, or in cafe tortoni about how much older the oldest cafe in madrid must be. and i buy my bread and it sounds ersatz when i break it, and cut ersatz produce with an ersatz knife and work out on ersatz equipment in an ersatz gym. and its all gravy, because you drink a Malbec, made from those grapes that France has to throw away but that here can grow into the most delicious fruit i ever tasted, and it at least kindof makes sense.

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Comments

[Mooch]

It's good to see you've been carrying the Ephebic Oath cross country and are focused on leaving your city greater than you found it. I feel as if every time I do something community, it's like handing in a tiny collateral. Only because my efforts are tiny, like lazily tossing out my own garbage. And bragging after. I'm observing there this semester, actually. And it really sucks. It's like I de-graduated but now that I know the answers i'm not allowed to raise my hand. I'm fucking frustrated. Plus Morales is back. Mike