Dearly Beloved, I now pronounce this cite a legitimate hipster guide.
After searching high, and low for the past several months, I have found the apartment. Or it has found me, just something us mindful beings like to say. For the apartment is located in Williamsburg, or as the Instagram check-in refers to it Hipster Motherland. This wasn’t an intentional search result, but when the opportunity presented a place with not one, but two non-functioning fireplaces, the choice was obvious.
How can one resist an exposed brick wall. Nohow.
Yesterday, my significant other and I spent a lot of time familiarizing ourselves with the authentic Brooklyn architecture. More particularly, these stairs.
Three flights of them will make sure you keep your furniture to a minimum.
Exhausted, but ecstatic we sat around our bags and boxes listening to the outside hustle and bustle of the city. Which was clear and loud. Like really loud at times. Like I can now throw Marlin Manson themed parties and literally no one would care (which is actually not a bad idea). And you know what else, the building shares the back alley with a next door restaurant, and taking out the garbage I can see right into their kitchen. I can walk into it also, although I wouldn’t have a good reason to do so. Yet.
There’s a ton of stores, and shops, and restaurants. It will take me years to visit each one of them. We started with this Ramen place, and sitting at a shared table, our dinner companion was a Jesus-looking guy. And if eating good food next to a Jesus-looking person doesn’t give you a tinge of warmth, I don’t know what will. After that lovely moment, we took a walk down to the river, with Manhattan’s night skyline, and yet again it was just another lovely moment. I have no pictures to show you because I was so in the moment. Next thing you know, I’ll be at the Lululemon prancing around in tight pants. Which IS conveniently located two blocks away. Right next to the Vans store. And Dr. Marten’s. I’m going to need a second job.
I did take a picture of this sign.
Because a Yiddish exclamation of chagrin, in huge yellow letters, randomly places on the street is something that speaks to my soul.
This morning I woke up at around 5 am to the aggressive construction sounds, and laid in bed strangely mesmerized, and pacified. The sounds of the street with so many people moving about their business made me feel less alone, less me, and more like part of something, of a tribe, of a web of restless little ants that keep going, and moving, and building. Something. Something great I’m sure.
As you can tell, I’ve gone all soft in this post. I am obviously tired. I promise to be back to my sarcastic self in no time.