This has been the first time that I’ve taken a self-induced hiatus from my weekly newsletter. And that’s only because it’s felt hard to be a voice amid silence. In a city of millions and thus constant, human-induced noise, we now are met daily with muffled greetings. It’s hard to know what to say when perhaps saying anything that could be heard is seemingly profound. An outreach may feel like a spatial breakthrough. Every word I wrote felt like it simply wasn’t enough to hang on to.

Walking around with all these words in my head and love in my heart and no seemingly appropriate way to communicate it,. I can’t tell you how badly I try to make my eyes say, “I’m smiling behind this.” I’ve tried the slow, double blink, the way apparently cats communicate “I love you”. I’ve attempted the slow and rather fatherly nod of discerning approval, wordlessly telling neighbors, grocery store cashiers, and the man who owns the liquor store, “I approve of you.” Nothing seems to feel right, other than me squeezing my smile up into the tops of my cheeks and through my eyes as much as I can and hoping that the designated recipient doesn’t cower away from what might be an oncoming sneeze.

But as much as my hesitance felt valid, so did a few other things. The man at the pizza shop knocking on the window and handing me a plastic bag to help with my groceries-and-bike struggle. The community coming together to feed a cat left behind in a bodega that had been burglarized. And the ‘7pm clap’ going from a few hands hesitantly outstretched on a stoop to a block-wide nightly celebration of connection. The cacophony has become unity, as the rather ambivalence to the 7pm clap has become an endearing connection between neighbors we never knew were neighbors (who all, somehow, have tambourines?).

I felt perhaps, a place for myself, if you’ll still have me. The relative mindlessness with which I began to approach my ‘weekend guides’ became a stalwart fight for small businesses and the community we must maintain. It is so important to have a voice in all of this, to have a response, to make an outreach.

And my outreach here, while normally it is to help you get out and explore, really is just to help you find joy- in activities, in opportunities, in connections, in so many words.

Brooklyn, I’m just trying to make you feel better.

So I’ll still be here trying to figure out what to say. But just know that if the words on this screen feel hard to connect through, or if you see me masked up while walking around town, I’m smiling behind this.

So, hi.

Hi, coming from a mission of connecting people by bringing them outside of their shoebox apartments and into the wild, wondrous concrete jungle we’ve chosen to inhabit. 

So now what do I do? We are supposed to stay inside. To keep our distance from each other. To buy canned food and packaged goods that we wouldn’t normally eat because, who knows- everything’s changed now. You just might be a Spam person. 

My mission of city and human connection, mano a mano, is now officially, nationally, discouraged. And don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sure I agree that we should stay indoors. 

But while we’re here, let’s talk, from a distance. I was recently mentioned on an amazing and very informative Instagram account called YesWilliamsburg as part of a Locally Famous feature. To be considered for such a feature, I had to answer the following questions:

1. What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen in NYC? 
2. What’s the best advice for someone wanting to move to New York?
3. What’s something really cool someone can do for under $30 in Williamsburg? 
4. What’s your go-to coffee shop order/where do you usually drink coffee?
5. What’s your favorite brunch spot in Williamsburg and why?

And while I’ll keep my responses to myself and to whoever the hell is listening on social media, I want to hear from you, here, now. Tell me your answers to the questions above, and anything else you want to add. Because after all, while we’re inside, we might as well keep in touch.

New York is an ugly, dirty city. Its climate is a scandal, its politics are used to frighten children, its traffic is madness, its competition is murderous.

But there is one thing about it – once you have lived in New York and it has become your home, no place else is good enough.

I found this quote in the very charming Wildsam Field Guide for Brooklyn that I procured from the window display at my local liquor store (special thanks goes out to the teenage cashier who snagged it for me). This quote, by John Steinbeck, highlights the relatively unpleasant nuances of living in this city that we are constantly influenced by. But living under this influence is what arguably separates “New Yorkers” from the rest of the country. 

The dirt and grime make us realize that we don’t need the pristine sterility modern living may provide. Our small living spaces force us to be considerate minimalists, constantly shedding things that feel unnecessary but leaving them in a “Free!” box outside our apartments. The aggressive weather, from blinding snow to relentless humidity, forces us to push forward instead of hiding in the comfort of our cars, driving around searching for a close enough parking space to not be affected by the elements before running into our big-box destination. The politics that affect the entire country we see and feel playing out right before our eyes, on the street- there can be no closing the curtains to the realities that our government directly affects. The traffic makes us all experts at logistical strategy- choosing the right train car to place us exactly at the staircase at Union Square, or navigating that corridor at Court Square like a goddamn Nascar driver. And the competition… I think New Yorkers coined the phrase, “Sink or swim”.

We are all under the influence of life in this city. We all accept the everyday challenges that come with “New York City Experience”. And the daily victories don’t leave us satisfied and resting on our laurels- it leaves us insatiably wanting more.

New York. My home sweet* home.

*dirty, shameless, aggressive, insufferable, addictive Home

I was contacted this week by Google to be a ‘trailblazer’ for a new app they are testing called Shoestring. Shoestring aims at connecting people through user-reported or -created events that will “loop,” swoop, and pull you in based on your interests. 

Which, while flattering, kind of just felt like future me reaching out to present me, if future me also had the backing of a massive tech conglomerate, and saying, hey- we’re just trying to do the exact same thing that you’re trying to do here. I see that you’re trying to connect people, to tie up the loose ends that we’ve made of ourselves now that technology has become such that we can be socially satisfied with little to no human connection at all. I see that you’re just trying to connect people based on the things that they like to do and unique events that can only be found here, in this city. We’re trying to, too! So now, try to do it using our expensive little interface and let’s see if we can make the world better.

I see you Google, trying to bring it all back home a bit, to a time when, instead of saying, “Ok, Google, what’s the temperature outside?” we just walked outside and decided if we had to go back in for a scarf. I see you trying to scale it back, to make us all human again. And I sure as hell hope that people will follow the digital little trail I blaze, that they’ll want to follow my footsteps via your Shoestring, and that someday soon, we can all be together again.

But I hope too that they recognize the little “Beta” flag on your app. And mine? Well, mine’s been thoroughly tested and I think, approved. But ok, Google… let’s both keep trying.

This is a photo of me and my boyfriend taken in the mirror of a bathroom somewhere in Bushwick and I don’t want you to be too concerned about that. I knew from the moment we met that we were going to cause trouble together, and probably a lot of it. And I liked that prospect. Because trouble alone leaves you with a lot of explaining to do. Trouble together leaves you both in stitches, laughing and running down the sidewalk.

Since we met, we’ve spent an evening committing 40 misdemeanors with the help of a rental car that we drove over 300 miles around the island of Manhattan, with a tarp protecting the evidence in the trunk. We’ve admittedly seen more sunsets as a result of forgotten bedtimes rather than ambitious mornings. We’ve traversed continents, slowly sipping drips of absinthe in seductive bars in Paris and climbing ruins over 6000 years old in Lebanon while simultaneously trying to avoid my ex-boyfriend (it’s a long and very strange story, but mostly, it’s history) We’ve drunk wine from a bota snuck underneath my dress in the middle of summer at the 601st running of a biannual horse race in Italy. We’ve chosen to sleep in a tiny Fiat instead of the Villa it was parked in front of because of what was definitely a ghost. We’ve found our bathing suits just in time to see the fun police prancing up to our lean-to on horseback on a beach in Queens. We’ve laughed and screamed so loudly in our apartment, I feel like I should leave monthly fruit baskets for the neighbors.

I wanted someone to be wild with, and I found him. Wild with passion, in all of its polarizing and tantalizing beauty.

City love, I suppose they call it. I think I’ll hold onto it.

Hey there Brooklyn. Have you been wondering where I am? Have you found yourself aimlessly wandering around the city without your weekend guides and fearless leader? Are you looking for your weekly dose of syllabically-limited prose? Wishing there was some voice here to make all of your hours happy hours?

I’m taking the month of January off from the blog and Instagram to refocus, restrategize, and do a bit of mental and spiritual cleansing. And, you have no idea how dire the situation in my closet has become…

I’ll be back in February and fresher than ever… as long as I can get out of this shopping cart (PS, thanks Key Food on McGuinness!) I can’t wait to share with you the projects I’ve been working on and all of the new things I’ve been discovering about our fair city. Stay tuned!

I truly love when something happens that has every single person in New York experiencing the same thing at the same time. Which is exactly what happened this past Wednesday, when we all received emergency updates on our phones, warning of a “Snow Squall” that would be sweeping over the city, from the West, within 30 minutes. This message was received as we were all looking out at clear blue skies and the city at peace, just before sunset. What is this squall? What is about to happen? What should we do?

I was out shopping for gifts and was positively charged by the excitement of it all. One shop owner told me, “They always make fun of me. I said just this morning, ‘I smell snow today…’ and they all laughed. And now the squall is coming…” she remarked proudly. 

Another told me, “I mean, they must be wrong. It’s beautiful outside. Nothing is going to happen,” as she rung in a pair of novelty socks and asked if I needed a gift receipt. To which, I wondered, is anyone enough of an asshole to return novelty socks? They are both functional and entertaining. I declined.

As I left the shop, I saw it coming. To my right, clear, sunsetting skies. To my left, the disappearing Manhattan skyline and a very unsettling deep, dark grey approaching quickly. The squall. I ducked into a vintage store and browsed through what could have been old or new jewelry as it hit. 

“Whoa, where did that come from?” The shop owner said aloud. “I’d wait it out if I were you…” 

“I want to go out in it,” I told her, as I opened the door and got swept up into the mayhem. 

And what impacted me most wasn’t the blinding snow or piercing wind… it was the feeling that all 8.6 million New Yorkers were feeling and thinking the same thing at the same time. I was swept up in the energy of what it is to live among so many unique people, with their own ideas and beliefs and dreams, and then to feel the impact of us all sharing the same, albeit panicked, mindset, for just a few minutes. 

I was walking back home after it had all settled in and I saw a woman nearly fall on a sneaky patch of sidewalk ice. An older man was approaching me. “Watch out, it’s super slippery right there.” “Right here?” he pointed, before sprinkling some salty mixture from a kid’s beach pail onto the patch. 

He seemed to be the post-squall Sheriff.

There are so many beautiful connections that happen daily in this city. We’re all in it together, even though at times we feel completely isolated. The sun rises and sets upon us each day. And sometimes, we get completely and wholly swept up in it all, together.

See you, or feel you at least, out there, Brooklyn.

I had a rather funny experience yesterday. One of the fashion companies I used to work for held their holiday party at my restaurant, and I was bartending. I was serving people who used to be my corporate colleagues. And while this irony made me nervous and inevitably a bit over-dressed to make sure I didn’t appear as some washed up, brainless bartender, the more I observed the scene the prouder I was of the change I intentionally made in my life. 

The super preppy company, which is kind of like if Brooks Brothers and Lily Pulitzer had a baby, gives employees a $300 monthly store credit, one that I had so much trouble spending, I usually gave half of the stuff to my mom or used the fabric to sew something more fitting for a 20-something Brooklynite. This was unacceptable, of course, at the holiday party. I was pulled into the sample room and forced into a frock that made me look like an over-botoxed Upper West Side socialite who was about to give a thank you speech at a gala. Instead, I was dragged to the on-site photo studio (Wowww! They really overdid themselves with the decor this year!) to have 2 glasses of wine and some finger foods and leave with a framed picture of the company founders. As much as I tried to fit in at that company, I never did. It also didn’t help that on my birthday, a crazy ex-boyfriend sent a midget stripper to my office at 11am (but that’s a whole other story).

As I looked around the dining room yesterday, proudly perched on the other side of my half-moon marble bar and wearing my own clothes, I was so happy to be exactly where I was. One of the former co-workers that I particularly despised smirked when he recognized me. “You look better. Is it because you don’t have to wake up early anymore?” “No, Jack. I’m a writer. I wake up whenever it’s time for me to work on my own craft,” I told him. 

Later, an old friend asked me. “How did you do it? I want to leave the corporate world so bad. It’s killing me.” I leaned in close and told her the secret. “You just go.”

Thank you, whoever is reading this, for being this reason for me to admit I was in the wrong place, and doing the wrong thing, at just the right time. Thank you for listening. Thank you for being the main reason for this lifestyle change, and into this life that fits me just right.

I have probably uttered this phrase over a million times in this city. These simple words, exchanged across a counter to a barista, that will change everything. These words incite action. Said barista then tells me a number. I give him some form of currency as I shuffle quickly through a barrage of flimsy business cards, searching for the one that represents how many times I frequent this establishment. I hand it to him sheepishly. He punches it. I realize that within about a year I am rewarded approximately 9 free cups of coffee, a seemingly lackluster reward for the 32 business cards that take up prime real estate in my handbag at all times. And then he hands me my simple yet powerful choice. This exchange is the catalyst that sparks the rest of my day. Armed with this decision, I am ready for whatever comes next. “Just a small drip coffee,” I say, and BOOM. I’m off. I’m ready. 

Brooklyn, consider me your designated caffeine decision. I’m that little boost that will get you through the rest of your day, your weekend, your experience here in this town. Following me is just as simple as choosing how to best prepare yourself for whatever this city throws at you. Let’s do this.

Ok, ok. I’m not saying I hate the Fall. I don’t. I can get into an oversized sweater. I do consider leather my second skin. And I’m never mad when my rose changes over to a deep, sensual glass of red wine. 

It’s just that I know what’s coming next. Fall is the Sunday of the seasons. Of course it’s pleasant. But how can you fully appreciate something that is immediately followed by something so painful?

I’m just going to answer my own question here… we embrace every moment of it. Every chilly breeze, every stunning sunset, every combination of layered of clothing we can think of. We throw caution into that Fall wind and we say, “I don’t even care that it’s only going to get colder! I’m having a nice time!”

I’ll be over here, helping you keep having nice times, all season long. Another thing that might help is this amazing sweater I just bought which, if you zoom into the photo on the right, you’ll see was christened with pigeon poop 2 minutes before this photo was snapped.

I suppose that’s just New York’s way of saying, “Baby, I’m falling for you.”