I am sitting on a bench outside a coffee shop in the Lower East Side. I am wearing a t-shirt and shorts, I am ready for the gym. I am waiting for my girlfriend to be done with work so that we can go to the gym together. She made me an espresso. I did not have to pay for it. We are a cute couple.
There is an air conditioner next to me and it is dripping water. People walk around it to avoid getting dripped on. I think I like this neighborhood. I would live here, but I would stay indoors for most days. I stay indoors in my current neighborhood. None of my neighbors talk to each other. I think that’s sad. I want a sense of community.
I am that asshole with a laptop sitting on a bench outside a cafe writing an article about what I am doing at this very moment. There are people walking by me. A man spit on the sidewalk. Someone is talking about going to San Francisco. A cab honks at another cab. A bus — the M15 — roars by. A bug (I think a fly?) landed on the bench next to me. It is rubbing its hands. Is it plotting something? Will it fly into my hair?
People must think it will rain soon. Approximately 72% of people that have walked by me have had an umbrella in their hand. I’m not good at approximating. The grilled cheese place next door is blasting an ABBA song. A dark-haired woman does a little dance. She laughs with her friend.
There is an advertisement on the bus station on the left side of me, about eight feet away. “I want to be a bike. Recycle me,” it says. I don’t recycle.
People try to open the door to the cafe, but it has been closed since 7PM. My girlfriend is closing up shop. I think we’re going to head out to some bar to drink. I might invite Brandon and Stephanie. That means we’d have to go up to Williamsburg. That’s not too bad of a trek. Take the G up there from our apartment. The G train is about 15 minutes away. If we took the M44 up, it would take about four minutes. I like where we live. Actually, I love where we live. We just got a rent extension. Our landlord didn’t increase our rent. I think she likes us.
I took an Uber home today from the office. The driver was Pakistani. He asked me where I’m from and what I did. We talked about New York. He said his uncle, when he first came to the United States, taught him three things:
- Don’t trust New York City weather.
- Don’t trust New York City women.
- Don’t trust New York City subway.
I agreed with two of those.
He told me he has a wife and a nine-month-old son. I asked him how it feels to be a dad. He laughed and said it’s hard work. He told me about a woman who rented out a one-bedroom apartment on the west side of Manhattan. He said that she pays $3,500 a month for it. I told him that she was fucking nuts and that it’s probably because she wants the area code. I asked him if she lived in Trump Towers. He nodded. He said white people are crazy.
This is still my favorite painting of all time.
this is my favorite painting of all time pic.twitter.com/5Yp6rZX7uc
— 현춘이 (@ughHugs) January 17, 2014
I took the A and transferred to the F train at Jay Street. My laptop is at 55% battery and I am not hungry. Devon says Steve Buscemi comes to the 7th Ave. Konditori sometimes. I’d like to meet him. I’d like to ask Mr. Buscemi if he would like to spend a day with me and take some funny pictures for a humorous photo article detailing our brief and wondrous friendship.
Today, at the office, I talked to Joe and he asked me if I wanted a vasectomy. He had clippers in his hand.