Is it satire if you admit it?

Because a grew up outside of New York City, I've always had an idealized view of this city and what it means to leave here. Once I started NYU, I had free reign to enact all my deepest New York fantasies. I wandered aimlessly around Greenwich Village, spent many a lost afternoon in Central Park, and have sat with a huge grin affixed to my face for hours sitting in Tompkins Square Park. Now that I have a job, I don't get the time to just amble about New York, especially since I reverse commute out of the city into the suburbs for work and need particular reasons to venture out of my apartment after 8:00 PM. Ironically, I leave my apartment later and come back earlier working in the suburbs than when I've lived and worked in Manhattan. And since I use most of my commuting time to read/listen to podcasts of Fareed Zakaria and other Yale educated guys who say things like:

"Though a few junk bond issuers have tapped the market, part of the demand may have come from funds “gambling for resurrection”, ie, taking a big risk for high yields in a desperate bid to offset losses elsewhere."

I'd say it's a net positive.

The odd thing is that when I picture idealized Manhattan weekends, they almost always involve Midtown East, specifically the area around 57th and 5th. This is a recurring image, and I can't fully explain it. It's existed for a long time, but I have no idea why. There is nothing particularly exciting about this neighborhood. In fact, its exceedingly corporate. As a unrepentant capitalist, you'd think I'd be OK with that, but I am a big fan of compartmentalizing, so when I fantasize about Manhattan I'd prefer it be really bohemian, involving me hanging out in dimly lit TriBeCa hotspots with editorial assistants from Elle and talking about Damon Runyon. But I can't help it--my ideal weekends always flash in my mind with the image of that part of the city that features Henri Bendel and Apple stores. I see other parts too, but this feature is extremely prominent. I wonder what it means.

You've probably guessed, but I never, ever, edit my blog. Everything here is written stream of consciousness style, like James Joyce. In fact, I've not ever gone back and checked for consistency or grammar in any of the 160+ posts I've written on here. This blog is the closest thing that exists to a portal to my mind, and I write in the same style all the time, from e-mails to personal conversations. I wish I had the discipline to update it more frequently, and I'll certainly try. I like writing in here, if for no other reason than it is a record of who I was at the different parts of my life.