Brooklyn: Park Slope– Hipster franchise coffee shop, inundated with beautiful, macbook and yoga-mat toting literati girls. Free wireless, decent coffee, making progress on Adam Zertal’s book. For the second time in as many days, smartly dressed preschoolers start pouring in by the gaggle. Heavens to mergatroid, not another midday cafe singalong.
I am taking a three-day urban foray before retiring to sleepy ‘ole Ann Arbor to meet my new baby brother, barely out of the box. I expect my visit home to be heartwarming, snotfreezing and uneventful, so I thought a short but frenetic layover in the big Apple would be a fun prelude to my Pacific adventure next month. I am crashing on Matt’s couch at Brooklyn Law, eating ethnic/local delights of which Israelis remain largely ignorant (Horchatas, white pizza, Pho, anything with plaintains in it).
1. An impressive sea-shell collection on the stoop of some shithole by the river.
2. The “Since 1923” Polish butcher/grocer where it is impossible not to notice that the countless products have all, every one, been meticulously rotated precisely label-forward and aligned with the vertiginous towers of identical foodstuffs above.
3. NYC public library, Middle-Eastern and East Asian studies reference room (third floor), where a bound, late-eighties edition of the proceedings of the Royal Sanskrit Society of Bombay had obviously been hand-typed (presumably it was still cheaper to pay a roomful of Indians on typewriters than to print the periodicals).
Some new stories brewing in the brainbox, but I can’t convince myself to sit down and write unless I am working or studying… Maybe soon I will get used to the idea of vacation. Same Bat-time, same Bat-station…