When people ask me how I'm liking New York, I look them in the eye, voraciously and genuinely. Then, I proceed to tell them that I am loving it. I love the way no one is nice but everyone is kind. I love the way I stumble into neighborhoods, unlocking new microcosms of the world to laugh and play in. I love that everyone is here, from the annoyingly stylish downtown crowd, in my hovel of the Lower East Side, to the deep fried bankers of the Financial District, to the overprotective New Age parents of Cobble Hill. I love that I can wash down Fujianese dumplings with a celery soda, while running late to an opening of a photo exhibit chronicling 'the glory days of VICE magazine.'

In fact, the only thing I truly miss is the beach. More specifically, I miss cold plunging into the bay at 9am on a Saturday morning while the Golden Gate Bridge is behind me. On my initial plunge, I slowly lower myself into the Pacific Ocean, letting myself become gradually immersed in deep, blue, definitely not shark infested water. Once this self-imposed torture ritual is complete, I go back to land for one minute exactly. After 60 seconds of recovery, I turn the dial all the way. I run back into the ocean and throw myself headfirst. It's unbelievably cold for just a moment, then, I'm enveloped in a warmth. I stay in for a few more minutes, trying to see if I can spot any seals.

Arpf Arpf, I'll bark a few times, seeing if I can pass as one of them. Nothing.

Then, once again, I exit the water. I feel alive. A hard lesson I've had to learn, and an even harder one to embrace, has been that actually, yes, the friction is good for you. Indeed, doing things that are important and not cheap dopamine hits is the cure to most of my problems.

I try to think of where I can plunge in New York without paying for yet another membership somewhere, or at the very least, a body of water in the city that won't give me polio. After a few months of looking, I still haven't found anything. Maybe it's good that one place can't do every single thing for you, even if it's marketed that way? Yea, that's okay I think. New York pretty much has everything else I need, at least for right now.

It's that everything else, that abundance, that endless stream which gives me pause. I love it here, and the beach is really the only thing I miss, but new places bring new spectres. And in New York, the biggest spectre is that of desire. 

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For the first time, I am grappling not with my desires, but with desire itself. I am wrestling with the desire of objects, status, and the many symbols and figures associated with the two. I make a good salary, I have savings, and my family has made it expressly clear they would support me if shit ever hit the fan. Yet, with all this being said, New York is the only city I have ever been to where I feel *poor. *I am not dining at the Waverly Inn every night. I do not own a Rolex, or even a Tudor. I am not paying a nanny overtime after my Broadway play goes long. I am not choosing what kitchen backsplash looks best in my West Village townhouse. And yet, there are times when this is all I want, times where my yearning for all this washes over, then drowns me. 

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When I eventually come up for air, I look at myself and ask 'do I actually want this?'

To be an American is to live with the fact that these objects and symbols are considered to be the most crowning achievement of a life. Telling someone you own a summer house in the Hamptons gives infinitely more cultural cache than telling someone cold plunging in the ocean has had a really positive effect on your mental state. Both are symbols of who someone might be, yet, the former is a tangible object out of reach for 99% of the population, and from there, the person ascends rapidly in our mind.

Something that has coincided with all this has been the third season of the White Lotus, HBO's Sunday night megahit that skewers both the ultrarich and the people around them. When it's on, White Lotus takes over popular discourse. It's the only show I consistently hear folks talking about on the street; in-person exchanges of theories, scene breakdowns, and their favorite characters. (A big shout out to the group of girls I walked by at Dudley's on Orchard Street, who christened Walton Goggins as 'the hottest man on television'. I wholeheartedly agree.)

The third season takes us to Thailand, a country that is overflowing in its beauty, both natural and manmade. The best thing about White Lotus is its characters, and watching these people behave badly in one of the most stunning places on Earth is of course a commentary. But, it's also just really good TV. Each season has its own themes, and in the most recent iteration, White Lotus explores spirituality, death, materialism, and the ideologies of the West versus the ideologies of the East. 

Piper is the perfect encapsulation of this. She is one of three and the only daughter of the Ratliffs, a wealthy, high-powered family from the great state of North Carolina. Timothy, the patriarch, is a stoic father who’s entire world falls apart after news of his financial crimes break out, potentially bankrupting him, and more importantly, the entire family. Victoria, the mother, is animated but a bit slow, like a movie that’s buffering at the best part. She is frequently seen popping pills, until Timothy subsequently steals them after learning of his impending financial circumstances. Saxon, the prodigal son and oldest of the kids, is a douche from top to bottom. Yet, he’s a douche in what we might nearly call a classical sense. Yes, all he thinks about is working out, hot chicks, and getting that bread, but he’s certainly not evil- and by the end of this season, he had what I thought was the most satisfying arc out of anyone. Finally, we have Lachlan, or Lochy, the youngest and most impressionable, a vessel of Ratliff trauma who has had to become equal parts soundboard and punching bag. 

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Do you want to know the true secret sauce of The White Lotus? The reason it’s become such a phenomenon, a cultural freight train we can’t get off until a season is complete? It’s because Mike White and his team have mastered the art of writing characters you’ve met in real life. There are some misses here and there, but for the most part, when I meet a central character on this show, I often whisper to myself. Oh….I know her. Wow….I know that dude. Other shows I love, like Game of Thrones or Slow Horses, are great TV, but I’ve never met anyone like Tyrion Lannister or Jackson Lamb. In White Lotus, the characters are mirrors of our moment, and in this current moment, it feels as if success is defined through desire by way of capital and material. 

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But let’s go back to Piper. Piper is the impetus for the Ratliffs finding themselves in Thailand- after graduation, she dreams of joining the holiest Buddhist temple in the country, leaving behind any trace of a life tainted by her wealthy upbringing. She is cool headed, and more than that, she is aware of her privilege, underpinning a desire to see what it’s like on the other side. Her mother, Victoria, is initially flabbergasted when Piper reveals this, as the entire family thought they were in Thailand as a way for Piper to research and finish up her thesis. (“You want to live in TAIWAN?” she asks incorrectly, the words drawling from her mouth like hefty molasses.) But Victoria is first and foremost a mother, and like all mothers, she is endlessly clever. She tells Piper to spend a night at the temple before committing to a whole year, and Piper agrees. She brings Lochy along, and that’s pretty much the whole storyline until the finale. She lives like a monk. She eats fruits and vegetables. She sleeps on a cot. She meditates.

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Flash forward to the finale, and this is where I had my big a-ha moment with Piper. The entire season, Piper has flaunted her acknowledgement of her family’s privilege, and soundly rejected it. One day after her visit to the temple, at the dinner table with her family, she completely breaks down. She did not only loathe life at the temple, but she realized she simply could not do life at the temple. The vegetables were not organic. The cot was exceptionally uncomfortable. People’s clothes were dirty and worn. And she simply could not fathom how people could live like that- after a day of living like someone who rejected Western materialism, she found herself unable to imagine a world without it. 

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If White Lotus embodies characters you know, for myself, Piper could be a dozen people. She is the girl you knew in college that had to come home from study abroad. She is the family down the block that has a maid come in every week. She is your hungover roommate ordering a salad and a diet coke at 5 times the mark up through UberEats. I could only applaud her for realizing that yes, she in fact cannot live without the creature comforts she has grown so used to, and in fact, won’t try to change so that she can. It is an unbearably realistic look at the privilege of the upper class, especially for a generation that has had everything automated into a few apps on a phone. And to Victoria- a masterful gambit. No one knows their kid like a mother, and she fully clocked that Piper would wither once she saw the real world. But there is no ill will between the two. In fact, Piper’s embrace of their status brings the two closer, and we see her don an elaborate, colorful dress after she admits this, a stark contrast to the plain, beige outfits we saw her in all season. 

But while I love Piper, the character I most embraced this season was Gaitok. A friendly Thai security guard for the resort, Gaiktok is nearly always painted with a smile on his face. Without knowing anything about him, you can tell from the way he carries himself that he wouldn't harm a fly. It's a fascinating contrast to his job, one that heats up immensely after a violent robbery at the hotel. Gaitok embraces the core of Buddhism, which we can see by the way he pursues Mook, a beautiful wellness mentor who often runs into him before and after their shifts. Mook, by no fault of her own, is attracted to power. When she sees the bodyguards of the hotel's owner, Sritala, come and go as they please, she nudges Gaitok to go in that same direction. Not only do they make more money, in Mook's eyes, they are also much more important. Gaitok is by no means simple, but he is content with where he's at. The race for more money, elevated power, and higher status does not interest him. 

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At least initially. 

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As the season goes on, things begin to shift for Gaitok. He is soon entrusted with a firearm, one that, at first, makes him deeply uncomfortable. He receives more responsibility to secure the hotel, after the robbery left both guests and staff rattled. Whenever he spots Sritala's bodyguards, he feels a tinge of inadequacy. He notices their bulging muscles, their endless tattoos, and most strikingly, their attitude of not giving a flying fuck. These guys are assholes. But they're well paid assholes, and something of a devious fascination for his love interest, Mook. 

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There is no surprise to how Gaitok's story ends. If the characters of *White Lotus *are a mirror of who we are, its story must be a reflection of the times we are living in. In the apex of the finale, Gaitok is instructed to shoot Rick, the man who killed Sritala's husband, and another character we've spent the whole season exploring. There is a deeply carved hesitation on Gaitok's face... and then, he pulls the trigger. Rick staggers, then falls into the water while holding his lover, Chelsea. The moment their bodies hit the water is the moment Gaitok trades in his innocence for the pursuit of desire. 

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And we simply cannot blame him. If the last generation's biggest fear was that of selling out, our generation's might be never getting the opportunity to do so in the first place. Water levels are rising, AI is looming to upend society, and as of this week, we're dealing with a set of Trump-backed tariffs that threaten to decimate global trade. If there was any dignity in getting comfortable, it is long gone for anyone under 35. (Gaitok and Mook are 34 and 28, respectively.) 

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And Gaitok does get to 'sell out', in a sense. But instead of a car commercial or a jingle for Target, he trades in his morals to get ahead. His old life for a new life. The guy who wouldn't hurt a fly, by the end of the season, has shot and killed a man. Desire has an insidious way of convincing us that the ends always justify the means- in the last scene of the finale, we see Gaitok chauffeuring Sritala from the hotel. He is wearing new, fashionable clothes. His sunglasses look expensive. He is smiling. As he drives away, the camera pans over to Mook. She, for the first time, is impressed by Gaitok. 

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Could Gaitok have piqued her attention without all this? Maybe, but we'll never know. The fancy car he gets to drive, the bigger paycheck he earns, the stylish sunglasses he gets to wear, they definitely don't hurt. This is where I begin to really align myself with Gaitok- his zone of desire is an interesting one. Does he pursue Mook after all this? Their connection seemed real, but her taking a genuine chance on him seemed predicated on the fact that Gaitok increase his status in the world. But... does that matter? He killed a guy, does he now get the girl too? And if he does, will a relationship built on this sort of foundation last? Or will it crumble when Mook desires more power, more status, and Gaitok is unable to provide? 

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It’s impossible to say- but one thing is for sure. We are all Gaitok. The majority of us will choose to forego morals, principle, character, or a combination of the three to get ahead. It’s only in a TV show, in a fictional vacuum, that many I know are disappointed with his arc. But I am not! White Lotus is a show that mixes the comically absurd with the painfully realistic, and Gaitok’s transformation is staunchly in the latter camp. 

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I am still finding out exactly what I’d like from my time here in New York. I think it’ll come to me- genuinely, I do. If you keep watering the soil, don’t be surprised when one day a garden springs up. I am grappling with desire, but I am slowly gravitating towards the less materialistic, status-driven aspects of it. Don’t get me wrong…. I still want a townhouse in the West Village. I would still love a Submariner. But I have to remember how happy I am with the simple things, like a walk around the seaport or just getting lunch with a friend. I’ll continue to wrestle with desire in the most material city in the world, but I’ll remember the antidotes to that, too.