I spent the new year out in San Francisco. I did it to somehow escape the routine of another new year’s turn back in NY. The irony of it all is that as soon as midnight struck, the image that blasted out of the many video screens in the bar I was in was that of the brightly-lit ball dropping on Times Square. It seems there really is no escaping NY. Home hangs heavy wherever one is and NY might as well have been a chain than a mere pendant. It shackles my consciousness with its gritty, grand charm.