New York City is at its spiffiest these days, so much so that sometimes when visiting, especially during these fresh days of spring, I have flashes of being in Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. A hopeless nostalgic, the Technicolor contrast to the lurking, brooding grime of the city I grew up in sometimes tugs at me. But such nostalgia is so last decade and cliché to boot. Now I look behind the illusory romanticism of the New York left behind. I recall the fear that reigned in public spaces, the desperation to avoid eye contact in the vain hope that this would…Read More... | 1 Comment
Do our previous jobs get embedded into our DNA? “You must be the type cast of a waitress,” my friend says casually as I sit back down in my chair at my local coffee shop/office. It has just happened again. It happens all the time and yet, it always catches me by surprise. I went to pee and on my way back the inhabitants of the next-door table leer at me, checking me out head-to-toe, and finally demand the check. “This is completely unacceptable,” says the frizzy-haired, furious lady. “We’ve been waiting for like ten minutes.” They have clearly made…Read More...
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