The parties in-state stopped after that storm. When my friends and I saw each other back in the city after Maxwell, we all wondered the same things. Why were we staying there? Why were we hanging on to this city that was falling into the ocean? There were so many other places we could be. And, sure, New York City had always been a mecca of arts and fashion and food and magnifique things, but the more storms hit, the less it was. One of my favorite restaurants, this little place with brick walls and old oak tables and waiters who are about a hundred years old each, closed up because of storm damage, and the last I heard their chef had opened a place inland in New Jersey, because he said it was a safer bet.

I had learned my lesson during Maxwell, and was going to get most of what was valuable out with me. The things that really mattered most: my paintings, my more expensive clothes, things I couldn’t stand the thought of losing, or that wouldn’t be okay if they got wet.

I started to get frustrated as I went along packing. I don’t have a great attention span because of my ADHD, and I couldn’t get my prescription filled again this month because of all the business types who use the drugs to work long hours. I laid down, feeling overwhelmed, and I didn’t get back up.

Finally, Pollock’s cries were just too much to bear. I think that’s why my dad got him for me. I can tend toward the depressive side (my dad calls it ennui), so sometimes I think he bought me Pollock so I’d have to get out of bed. It never fails. I love that dog, and I’d never let him go too long being hungry, or thirsty, or having to use the bathroom. So finally, I stood up, got his leash, and called someone to come and pack my boxes for me. I’m so fortunate that there are services for everything in New York these days.

So Pollock and I had a bit of free time before we had to leave the city, and I tried to think to myself what I’d really like to do with that little bit of time. I would walk Pollock, of course. But also, I’m not so far from Brooklyn, and the car services hadn’t closed down yet in preparation for the storm. So I figured we would take one out to Brooklyn, to see Basquiat. Pollock would take a walk in Green-Wood.