I met him in an elevator, of all places. He’s an artist. He’s from Italy. He’s 30. He somehow managed to wink at the lies I told an old man about being a molecular physicist and work up the courage to wander around Chelsea with me. To tell me about his art. And he emailed.
I have yet to decide whether or not to post it as an Insightful Email from a Rejected Suitor.
Perhaps I shall sleep on it and consider posting it next week. Perhaps I will let him take me for wine.
Categories: City · Hedonism
Tagged: 30, art, artist, chelsea, elevator, email, italy, meeting, physics, rejected, sleep, wine, wink
So we walked out on the building on 8th avenue. It was surrounded by slow-moving fat-assed tourists gawking at Columbus Circle from over their floppy Sbarro slices.
Instead, I find myself moving to an apartment in Stuy Town. If I was any more east I’d be in the river. But if I had to deal with anymore mice in this tiny little bedroom uptown, I’d throw myself in.
Categories: City
Tagged: apartment, bedroom, columbus circle, mice, river, stuy town, tourists
