NY: 1

This set of flats in the East Village has an elevator guy.  It smells of money but is small in a way that shocks me.  A recurring theme.  I get an email that upsets me.  I meet a colleague before the book launch at said flat and then we head to a Peruvian restaurant on 1st Avenue and talk about Alphabet City.  We head to a bar and then I walk up Broadway and randomly go into a place to get a panini and the guy is from Punjab, could be my Dad, almost, is the same kind of age, has lived in NY 27 years.  I buy some Lucky Strike but they are the kind with no filter. I keep thinking about that email, check my Inbox: there’s another.  From my room, I hear sirens, people, road noise. CNN on the TV, the talk is all about the Zimmerman case.  I bought a Joan Didion novel and read some of it at the Chelsea Market but all I can really remember is that the woman who served didn’t say please or thank you once.  New York, then.  I wait.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s