Living the Moment

A Midnight Wandering, Quiet

In Queens, Lindsay next to you and the days of your life whirring past with the street signs, half-blind with the intensity of it all.

There were those voicemails, there was Bobby Champion and another quiet night with the river reflecting the same Whitestone Bridge Lights that glitter back now.

There were Chinese restaurants and the kick-kick of his foot against yours under the table.

Rum and hot chocolate on the living room carpet? You’ve over-remembered it to the extent that it sounds cliche now, almost like it didn’t really happen…

But there really was a night, you in your 22-year-old skin, elbows pressed into the brown shag carpet of an apartment that smelled distinctly of the 70s…and the television was playing something…MTV, maybe…really, you weren’t even sure then…just giggling with the looseness of the alcohol and the beauty of forgetting…

and there was the thick bristle of Brett’s hair, his white white hands playing with the remote, the yawn breaking open across your face.

Things

1. I saw a fox around the corner from my apartment. A fox. I have to get used to this living-in-a-place-where-there’s-wildlife thing.

2. I’m getting sick again. Perhaps the change of climate from 110 degrees (Las Vegas) to 60 degrees (Aspen) to 90 degrees (Boulder) over the course of three days didn’t help.

3. Ghost towns are the coolest things EVER. I’m obsessed.

4. It seems I’ve unwittingly placed myself in a circumstance where I must get over my fear of lightning or perish. There have been thunderstorms (albeit, usually short ones) almost every day since I’ve gotten here. And aparently that’s normal. It’ll be all blue-sky-beautiful and then, for maybe half an hour in the afternoon, the world will transform into storminess. Then it’ll be back to blue, like nothing ever happened. This is probably good for me. I’m already significantly less afraid.

Boulder FTW

My shower has a view of the mountains.

Ridiculously awesome.

Awesome, Independent Manhattan Coffee Shops

Although only having recently moved to Boulder, I’ve found a plethora of awesome independent coffee shops.

In New York, though, it was really difficult. And I live for coffee shops. Not the coffee itself, per se (coffee actually makes me sick — literally), but the other drinks, and (especially) the atmosphere, which (yeah, I know it’s cliche) was perfect for helping me produce quality writing more quickly.

Here was my problem in New York: there are lots of Starbucks, not so many awesome independent coffee shops. And I’m not really a fan of Starbucks because #1 – Overall, their drinks suck. (Any time I’ve liked a drink in Starbucks, I’ve found other coffee shop’s versions of said drink to be much better.) #2 – I’m really not big (okay, that’s an understatement) into chain stores in general and I get tired of the generic Starbucks look very quickly.

Fortunately, I’m a wanderer, so in my days of NYC-area living, I discovered quite a few really amazing coffee shops. I figured I should share my finds before they disappear into the black hole of my memory (which, I’ve discovered in the last year, is not as good as I thought it was).

Disclaimer: As stated above, I don’t drink coffee. Therefore, if you’re looking for someone to tell you that X coffee shop has the best coffee, look elsewhere. I drink all the other drinks instead: chai lattes, teas, hot chocolates, smoothies, etc. These are my favorite coffee shops primarily because of atmosphere and, sometimes, because of how much I like the non-coffee drinks.

My favorites:

1) Paradise Café – 141 8^th Ave b/t 17^th & 18^th Streets

This place has amazing smoothies and hot cocoa. Although it’s couchless, it usually has really awesome artwork all over the walls and free wi-fi. The one downside: on weekdays, it can get overrun by high school kids. Closes at 8 (I think?).

2) Rohr’s – 86^th St between 1^st & 2^nd Avenues (on the South side, closer to 2^nd)

Yeah, so they make you pay for wifi, it’s true, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE this place. They have a bunch of really comfortable couches, in addition to chairs/tables, lots of fun photographs and other assorted art on the walls, and a decent amount of space. Also, their tea selection is incredible, and they make kick-ass chai lattes and hot cocoa. It does get kind of crowded on the weekends, though. Closes at midnight.

3) Café Pick Me Up – Avenue A & 8^th Street

I’m in love with this place too, though more for the atmosphere than for the drinks. They’ve got all this mismatched furniture (although, alas, no couches) and really awesome art all over the walls. The wi-fi isn’t free and the hot cocoa is way subpar, but the ice teas are really good and it’s open late, which works for insomniacs like me. Closes at 1:30am on weekdays, 2am on weekends.

4) The Bean – 446 6^th Ave (by 10^th Street)

There are cushions on the benches here, which is nice. Also, there is one green couch, if you can grab it. They also have good chai lattes and ice teas. Apparently, there’s another location at Houston & 1^st, though I’ve never been there. Closes at 11.

5) Mojo Coffee – Charles St b/t Greenwich & Washington

This place is tiny but lots of fun, with all these little wooden stools and tables. It has amazing chai lattes (and my friends tell me the coffee is really good, too). Also, the owner is way cool. Talk to him! Closes at 8.

6) Java Girl — 348 E 66th b/t 1st & 2nd

I found this place right before I left, so I’ve only been here once, but I loved it. It’s teensy, so you have to be lucky to get a seat, but it’s really a gorgeous place. (Can a coffee shop be gorgeous? I say yes!) Also, it has free wi-fi. Closes at 7.

Other decent choices:

Brasil Coffee House – Lexington & 30^th St (though kind of generic/Starbucksy looking)

Antique Café - 27^th St between 7th & 8th (FIT)

Mud — 9th St. by 2nd Ave

Tea Spot – MacDougal between 3rd & 4th

Coffee Pot – 49^th St & 9^th Ave (this place has amazing iced chai lattes, apple cider & hot cocoa)

Esperanto — 114 MacDougal (noisy & crowded most of the time, but it’s open 24 hours)

71 Irving Place

I want to write words that have no meaning,

Send them off to touch you or hold you or move you or cry to you. Cast them off to leave me stripped of anything that means myself to myself.

Today is November 2008. There is so much I have to do and I keep stalling. Keep imagining myself moving forward instead of taking the steps.

Damn dreams. In sleep comes a satisfaction I will never have in wake because of some godforsaken idea that I must keep a morality, a sanity intact.

Two dollar bottles of water, standing outside the Carnegie Deli. And then inside, watching my auntie and two raucous British ladies peel apart layers of pastrami sandwiches, fork slow mouthfuls of cherry cheesecake.

New York gets goddamn cold in November. Goddamn cold. Where are you Rachel Adler? And what the fuck happened to the last year of your life?

Chew gum and walk across Manhattan. Be in a flimsy bright blue dress and brown heels at the edge of a fenced-in soccer field watching twenty-some-odd young professionals chase a black and white globe across the green.

There’s a goal in mind. There’s a net involved. There are hundreds of thousands of Halloween constumes to choose from, to roam in, to laugh at. There are diners with fat crumbly veggie burgers and impatient waiters who know their due. There are still ice tea cafes in Astoria, even if they’re now over-strung in neon pink and garnished with marble table tops. There’s New York still even in a fancy New York.

I don’t want to die and I don’t want to get old. I want to write these non-poems, non-proses until a Supermessiah lifts me on his shoulders and flies me strong to a Promised Land that’s paradoxical in its own promises. I want to dance with my grandparents, live and intact, and wish the next decade away.

But if you can’t give me that, oh world, give me at least some more passion.