I spent some of this beautiful afternoon re-visiting room 317 at the Parc Lincoln. I think about that place a lot. It was not my very first room to myself in New York, but it is the first place I stayed in for an extended period of time. My first room was room 1422 at the Parc Lincoln, but I think I was only in there for a couple of weeks. I have no photos of that room but I have maybe a couople dozen photos of room 317.
I listened to music by Philip Glass in that room, and I still associate the smell of room 317 with certain of Glass’ music.
After moving from the Parc Lincoln I would, every single night I laid down to sleep, think “It’s better than the Parc Lincoln.” I did not remind myself to think this. It was not a matter of counting my blessings or punishing my past. It was a genuine reflex thought, one which passed through my mind the same regardless of where I slept.
I am not sure if I ever said it out loud, but if I did it would have been with J. She knew room 317 as well as anybody in my life, but most of our nights were spent at her relatively luxurious room on 72nd Street.
I do not think of myself as someone who lives in his past, but in many i feel like I was born in New York in 1990. I have seen the paperwork that says I was born in Washington DC at Walter Reed Army Hospital. I dispute those findings and refer the court to room 317.
Where did your life begin? My life as I know it today began at the Parc Lincoln. Out of no nostalgia I might need another room 317.
