Friday was my third consecutive after-school visit to the coffee shop near my school in Williamsburg during which the person at the table next to me was job-hunting on craigslist--further evidence, if any was required, that when you are hip, young, white, and new to NYC, there is only one neighborhood for you. The guy next to me on Thursday was looking at barista jobs & talking on his cell to someone about how hard it is to get a barista job in New York.
Looking out the window I see a guy skating down Lorimer, carrying a large piece of broken mirror with the beveled edge on the unbroken side painted black and gold.
Overheard at the counter: "I keep picking up this Tom Robbins book and just, like, laughing. I have to give up on Lolita and just stop trying to make it work."
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