Or maybe she’s just drunk.


I’ve been housebound for days, and now the rain has stopped and I’m forcing myself to go outside, to the cafe in Greenpoint I frequent, which lately I have been steering clear of because there is a new girl there, on the same schedule as me, and she likes to TALK. She is very tall and sort of actressy and she wears shiny leggings frequently. She is hard to ignore, is what I am trying to say here.

I watched her the other day with her New York Times Arts section in front of her, reading parts of it OUT LOUD to the person sitting across from her, who was trying to read her own book. She did not care if her friend was listening, she made her runnning commentary anyway. The girl sitting between us, the one reading Chomsky, made faces at her and shot her dirty looks, and so did I, but there was no stopping her.

Then I put my headphones on. I had no choice! I had to do my work. And I would not leave, I had bought my cup of coffee. Then the Chomsky girl did too. Then the guy behind us put on his, and another man next to him. In one single moment this girl, this pointless, useless girl, who probably was just wasting time until she had another audition for a minor part in an off-off-off Broadway play, a part I assure you she will NEVER GET, had caused four people to change their minds about hearing what the real world sounds like and forced them into some electronically controlled universe instead.

Does that seem fair to you?

And I know that she is a sweet girl, maybe from Ohio or some place like that where people talk in cafes loudly to each other in the morning (I’m pretty sure they did where I grew up in Illinois), but not here, shh, my love, here is a city of internal monologues. Go practice at home in front of a mirror until you get it right.

Anyway I’m going to give the cafe another shot. Because the chipper do not run this town.

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