the times, they are...

one of my favorite things to do now is poke myself out my 4th (and top) floor window and take a gander at the neighborhood. up the street there are kids playing baseball amidst regular traffic and ambulences, behind them the high-risen M train pounds the night's shinanigans flat like a penny. down the street many busses flash by, the same bus, tailgating its doppleganger for the sake of making their rounds on time. many puerto rican families just inhabit the sidewalks, showing off their babies and smoking. their music can be heard for blocks, sometimes, and it's all very authentic. the neighborhood is also inhabited by the likes of me and heather, young couples hoping to take the city by storm. our music only fills our apartment, but is authentic all its own.

we've painted one room red, one room green, and the other have been left white. it's not as christmasy as you may guess, and once we're all moved in i trust our authenticity as new yorkers will be as heart felt as the couple in Edward Hopper's "Room in New York," which i've mentioned before.

i'm rambling, but that's how i know i'm home.