Brooklyn ate me last weekend. Ever since I made up with my boyfriend, I’ve been spending way too much time there.
Don’t get me wrong, Cony Island all day. But I built my life in midtown. I move so much, that it’s important I make use of where I am while I’m there; which just so happens to be upstairs from a 24-hour wonderland.
I’m boycotting Brooklyn for a hot second. It’s just about summer here in New York City, which is the best time of year in one of the best places on Earth. I watched the sunrise this morning before 
dancing on the river’s edge. I wandered through my local farmer’s market and smiled at all of the vendors I see every Wednesday. I sat in front of the north facing glass wall of my apartment with the sun on my face and words spilling from my fingers.
I’m going to sit tight for a minute. Maybe Anthony will come see me. It’s always a bet. He reckons it’s a 70/30 spread. I’m not sure who leans which way. But last weekend when he took me to his favorite diner on 86th Street in Bensonhurst for breakfast, we joked about how many times we would break up during the four days we spent together.
Terrible.
And also, I leave for Tahiti in like two weeks. Leading up to my Australian homecoming, I’m sitting tight in Manhattan. She’s why I left my favorite love in the first place, after all.
Sometimes I think I’ll always be alone. The more days that pass, the more I can handle it. Even when it’s a drag. It’s not about settling down, it’s about sex on tap and coffee together every day. These are the things humans take for granted.