New York City is no place for the faint of pocket. I have been noticing how my theatre-going and jazz-lounging has been curtailed over the past few months (I can be quite slow on the uptake sometimes) due to the pressing financial imperatives of rent and food.
This is not the city to simply get up, go to work, come home and watch TV. There are so many exciting and stimulating things to do in this city. But they all take lots of money. It’s $20 just to walk into a museum these days, and $40 at a minimum for a seat at even an off-off-Broadway show. Don’t forget to add the tax, either.
But I am trying to write my book and earn my rent at the same time, so my socialising has been curtailed somewhat. It’s frustrating – who doesn’t want to see and do everything this city has to offer? – but it seems to me today that those “trustafarian” Ivy League graduates really do have all the fun … simply because they can afford to. I feel so bourgeois to be so conscious of not enjoying dinners out and jazz clubs and the theatre. But I’m here, in New York City, for gods’ sake!