CityStories

On the 2 train, a man stands & a woman sits, both late 30s, both reading James Baldwin

He:

I got it for 50 cents on Washington Avenue

She:

For real! That's crazy.

He:

Yea, they must have been trying to get rid of books or something.

She:

This is my first; I heard that with his stuff you should start from the beginning and read through all of them in order, so that's why I have this.

He:

You enjoying it?

She Yes. Man, 50 cents! Still can't believe that! You could sell it online for $20 with the cost of books these days!

He:

I'll tell you what, if I run into you in about 300 pages, it's all yours.

She:

Awesome. Ya, I have about 200 left.

He:

Have a great day; enjoy the book

She:

You too!

#likemindbk June 15th

alishainthebiz:

RSVP for the next #likemindbk meetup 

This is happening! Friday! Here are some reasons you should join us:

• You will be the vanguard of likemind’s return to Brooklyn! A LEADING LIGHT.
• Duh, I’ll be there.
• As will other cool local characters, including your awesome Neighborhoodr Prospect Heights editors jenbo & makeshiftalisha (whom you should totally follow).
• Hungry Ghost has Stumptown coffee & super tasty food.
• Even though it’s technically 8-10, I’m dragging myself out of bed early to be there by 7:30 for those of you with early-starting jobs.

See you there!

Hey mami

It’s twilight in my neighborhood, balmy, breeze, fading streaks of sunset. A block party from First Saturday at the Brooklyn Museum spills out over Eastern Parkway and down onto Washington.

I wear a girly dress, complementary jewelry, makeup, sunglasses, headphones. My hair is curled. I carry two large bags. I’m returning from a wedding; my day is done. I want nothing but wine, takeout, Netflix.

I walk down Washington with all the purpose of my typical New York stride, but a bit slower, cooler, taking in the night, the music, the breeze, the smoke from the jerk chicken grilling on the drum outside the Jamaican restaurant.

Groups of men hang out on the sidewalk, going nowhere, doing nothing. They stand on corners all evening long, observing, and occasionally calling out, if the girl is pretty.

One man calls out to me, “Hey mami, you need some help?” It doesn’t seem like an offer to carry my bags. I begin to shake my head to decline as I walk, without breaking stride, without altering my forward stare.

But he answers his own question. “Nah, you don’t need any help.” I switch from shaking my head to nodding, still without breaking stride or altering my gaze. “You have a good evening,” he calls to my back as I pass.

Prayers for Peace

Gold ribbons and names for the American dead.

Blue ribbons for the countless unknown Iraqi and Afghani dead.

Prayers of peace for all.