In fair New York, where we lay our scene

[marvel-citizens.livejournal.com]

It's been said there are eight million stories in the Big Apple. Modern New Yorkers scorn this as an underestimate, though the more cynical ones will hold forth on the topic of how many stories are the same old, same old. Others will argue that every story is different, because New York makes them so. This surging, seething city: the hot spot of the American melting pot, where so many first set foot on American shores, where so many come seeking fame and fortune, where so many find only disappointment or despair or even death, where a few manage to hitch their dreams to that morning star.

"Every person on the streets of New York is a type. The city is one big theater where everyone is on display," said Jerry Rubin. All the world may be a stage, and all the men and women merely players, but who plays what? Who gets the leading role, and who will forever be stuck in the chorus line? Who will remain a stage-door Johnny, and who will be able to move from lead actor to director ... or the even more powerful position of producer?

Cast, crew, backers, and audience ... each one brings their own meaning to that granite beehive where people jostle and whir like molecules in an overheated jar.

New York City. Center of the universe.

If you can make it here, you'll make it anywhere.

Comments

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

The paper is tossed into the mesh trash basket with an accompanying growl of irritation as Logan gets up from his desk. He paces the small office for a moment before stopping at the grimy third-storey window that looks out onto the damp street below; his minimalist, outdated surroundings in stark contrast to the smooth, elegant Studebakers and Lincolns gliding past under colorful billboards advertising the latest hit musical on Broadway.

His thoughts trail to the bottle of Jack sitting on his filing cabinet, but he's kept in check by the promise he made to his daughter that he wouldn't drink while she was in the office.

And there's nothing here to take his frustration out on. Logan draws a hand over his face, then reaches for the metal cigar case on his desk.

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[http://users.livejournal.com/_steelmagnolia_/]

"Poppa?"

The soft voice comes from the other room calls out a query to him. Of coruse she heard the rustle of the paper tossed and the growl that accompanied it. Marion doesn't enter her father's office, her feet taking her to the threshold of his place.

"Are you alright?"

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

Right on cue. His fingers stop short of the cigar case, brushing the engraving on its surface before he turns back to the window.

"Ain't nothin', darlin'."

Nothing. Just a reminder once again of who really owns this city, and what little use he is in changing it.

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[http://users.livejournal.com/_steelmagnolia_/]

For a moment, while he isn't looking, a frown crosses Marion's face. Her gloved hands held crossed at her waist flex for a moment. "If you're sure..." She doesn't know how to comfort him. Hasn't known in some time and it seems to her that the shadows surrounding him are growing slowly but surely deeper.

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

She's a good kid. Better than he deserves. The only thing he's got left worth fighting for. But the longer he keeps fighting, the more futile it feels. If it isn't the damned Lensherrs, then it's that murdering son of a bitch Xavier, hiding behind his cronies and reaping the spoils.

Xavier is the man he wants to kill, and he'll get his chance. Revenge. Revenge, and Marion. The only things that keep him going. Even if she doesn't know it. He turns to look back at her, then pulls a ragged five dollar bill from his pocket. "Did ya get lunch yet?"

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[http://users.livejournal.com/_steelmagnolia_/]

"I thought we might go to the diner together. Business has been slow today." If slow means nonexistant, she would be entirely correct. Marion still stands at the entrance of his office. She doesn't actually enter the room very often. It is his place and she tries to leave it to him, to allow him the place of refuge.

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

Dining in public makes him edgy. Too many enemies, too many ways for them to use his daughter to get to him. Better that they don't know about her, as much as he's able. She doesn't need to be tainted by the ugliness of the world he lives in. "Lunch crowd," he rumbles back at her. "Why don't ya bring somethin' back here. I got a few calls ta make."

Rent doesn't pay itself.

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[http://users.livejournal.com/_steelmagnolia_/]

"Of course, Poppa." Marion smiles for him and takes the money offered. She'll get lunch for both of them and bring it back here. She doesn't much like crowds and coming back here will allow her to quietly listen to her radio programs when there aren't any customers.

"I'll be back soon."

Re: Excerpt from an article in the New York Times

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

Logan waits until the door's closed behind her before reaching for the cigar case on his old desk once more. The blotter it rests upon bears the brunt of many years of ink and coffee stains, hastily scrawled notes and numbers, and gouges that could have been made by an animal, or perhaps scraped over time with a pocketknife.

He sits back in the aging chair, and puts his feet up on the desk as he lights his cigar; facing, as always, the two framed images to his left. One is of his daughter. The other, a stunning redhead he once called his wife.