Barista: You want milk for your iced coffee?
Me: Skim, please.
Barista: Hemp? (over the noise of the juicer)
Barista: We don’t have that.
Did you know that I almost moved to my current neighborhood once before? Yep, during Chicklette in New York version 1.0.
1999 to be exact.
Unlike me, Christopher Bollen actually did so. His essay in the Paris Review had me transfixed.
#5A was mine for exactly four years, and that time did not magically evaporate in the expected dissolve of entering a revolving door and stepping out of it older, wiser. It was more like entering a revolving door and, by some failure of equipment, being stuck between two segments of glass, a perfect specimen of a confused young man who couldn’t go forward or back.
I decided I wasn’t ready to be a pioneer. Williamsburg was artsy. I’d have liked to have been artsy, but I wasn’t. I was (am?) corporate.