Perhaps you didn’t hear, but it was sort of a big deal when I moved to Brooklyn (practically had to beg de Blasio not to throw a parade about it) {*Side note, remind me to tell you more about my first NYC parade experience… which of course was the peak of the 2014 Dominican Day Parade when I was just trying to meet a friend, Shari, for brunch [for reference, here’s some tame documentation of the D.D.P] Blaring music, prom dresses, fist pumping, closed streets, you get it – I have never felt like more of a lamb in all my life. I digress..
mobile shot by kelly d at brooklyn desks;
{ wearing tank by Theory (similar), bag by Dooney & Bourke, and Current/Elliott jeans (similar), summer ale by Brooklyn Brewery }
Williamsburg has been good to me. I was instantly swooning the first moment we met. It was at a coffee shop called Pudge Knuckles; the Americanos were hot, the Atlantic breeze was cool, and Danny’s Song was playing (not kidding you). The vibes in Brooklyn remind me more of home back on the west coast (you know where I’d left my heart, sat on docks of the bay, and wore flowers in my hair). Don’t get me wrong, Manhattan is fantastic; he evokes that GSD-drive, is super intelligent, and is a fun fellow to hang out with. He’s just not what I’m looking for in a neighborhood at this point in my life; I mean, let’s be real: there’s probably a point on most Saturdays where he suggests doing multiple shots of Patrón.
Brooklyn’s a borough I could see myself actually have a real relationship with (with, not in; don’t. get. any. ideas.). He knows how to ride a bike but isn’t pretentious about it, always picks a place with a good selection of whiskey, can teach me something beautiful regularly, is never too aggressive and always open to suggestions. Granted the L train is my hell train – so deeply imbued with ironic tattoos, brown beards, pink hair, and the greenest condescension – it wouldn’t be so terrible if there was a little more courtesy and a little less sweat, but I figure you can’t love everything about everyone anyway.
Living on the edge:
I came to New York a few months ago with a couple of bags, my guitar, and an optimistic pessimism that nothing can be as bad as it had been before. AirBnB has perpetuated my transient, #livingontheedge, lifestyle for some time now (thanks Nathan, Brian and Joe – expect a call from my mother). And since I’ve always been an exceptionally adaptable lady, moving around and meeting new people in new ‘hoods has been OK.
The last place I stayed at was a converted store front artists’ collective from which I was subletting a room from a sweet gal. It was a last minute move, so I’ll admit that I likely didn’t ask all of the questions I should’ve asked. Like, how many other people are living in the place? Are there any pets? How many bathrooms are there? I didn’t ask, she didn’t tell, but oh by golly did I find out!
There were a lot of roommates – including at least 5 teenage boys, 1 sweet puppy, and 2 pet rats belonging to one of those aforementioned boys. Disclaimer: it’s unlikely that any of them were actually teenage boys between the ages of 13 – 19; though they fell into the bucket when for the 10th time I walked by in common space, conversations would stop and eyes would gaze upon me as if first sighting Tink in the Lost Boys basecamp.
There was 1 full bathroom. There were no windows. Oh, by the way, did I ever mention that rats are perhaps my biggest fear ever? Aren’t there enough of those things in this city already?
Some might’ve left straight away (or at least after seeing the caged-rats), holed-up at the nearest hotel-tonight and looked again in the morning. Some (maybe even my 19-year-old-self) would have shrugged, made some drinks and not given any of it a thought like a teenager whose parents were in Maui for the week.
I adapted. There weren’t any windows, but I had 2 lights! Sure, there were pet-rats, but the sweet puppy reminded me of the puppies-from-years-passed that I missed so much. No A/C, no problem – my crop tops have never gotten so much time on the field! Teenage boys are some of the most awkward things in the world, but I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t grow from and learn to appreciate their wonder at some point in life (see following):
I guess my point here is: figure it out. I only have 2 pairs of shoes with me right now – TWO. Stop complaining and call your mothers more often.
Situational Snaps:
Well, glad that’s over.
xx, Huckleberry Kim
