word unto one’s mother


things were looking up. i’d scored a rent-stabilized flat on greenpoint avenue, a fifteen-dollar-an-hour job fighting city hall, and a girl who was empirically out of my league. my friends were all moving to town, from maine and massachusettes and los angeles and poughkeepsie. one by one, they wound their way into my sleepy little neighborhood; two by two, they settled into its subtle rhythms.

[ ch-ch-changes, below the fold. ]

steep in me, o muse.

champion chai

this seductively condensating iced chai latte was prepared for me by all-star barista ryan, back in the summer of aught-nine, just when i needed it most. at the time, my attempts at comprehensive comic creation were being filibustered, as always, by my crippling self-doubt. given my extensive library of unfinished projects, the populace was understandably losing confidence.

[ delicious redemption, below the fold. ]

second to the right, and then straight on ’till manhattan avenue.

peter pan bakery

peter pan donut and pastry shop is greenpoint’s most beloved bakery. its confections are both marvelous and treacherous: after a single bite of one of their locally renowned doughnuts, you’ll feel compelled to buy at least four more. upon completing the first, however, it will become apparent that you’ve already ingested twice as much doughnut as you need. ever. and then you will eat the other four.

[ how sweet it is, below the fold. ]

where and wherefore

breakfast of champions

[ egg and cheese with avocado by andie ]

like all new yorkers who truly love their city, we often talk about leaving. there’s just so much to want that isn’t available here; not if you plan to spend your days drawing, anyway. There are things we’d like to have around: open spaces, big old dogs, swimmable waterways, pickable apples, proper mexican food, porch swings, the sea.

[ boy blue's guide to everywhere, below the fold. ]

the north brooklyn ‘bloggers banquet

so i had this great idea. not great in the sense of life-altering or nobel-worthy, but still pretty great, like when you really want ice cream, and then, all of a sudden and completely out of nowhere, the inspiration strikes you to go out and get ice cream, and when you’re back from the bodega, curled up on the couch watching the gilmore girls and eating ice cream, you look up and think, man, this is freakin’ great.

[ more ice cream, proverbially speaking, below the fold. ]