There’s a lot I’ve come to love about New York. Day by day my Brooklyn apartment becomes more and more of a “home.” I bought bread, prosciutto, mozzarella and olives from a great market in Little Italy and had enough self-restraint to wait until I got home to tear a piece of the loaf and have a bite. The fact that I meandered through Chinatown before finding a train to get back home made a bit hungrier, but I felt a compulsion to drink wine to complement the meal. Wine that had to be bought of course, after I got off the train in Bed-Stuy.

The wind, shadows, and the barrage of snow storms this winter has brought makes me really appreciate the comforting things I encounter, like lunchtime walks with Ivory. The sun shines bright in the Park to melt the snow and wet the ground. Skating at Wolman Rink is way overpriced, but the high rates at the rink must keep the ambulance on hand at all times. Back in the shadows, lines teem outside street vendors. Hallal and Mexican and MeatSticks reign. Nutz4Nutz can suck it. Can’t help but notice the exuberant displays of pompousness and desperate expressions of status: Men with purple-hued collars protruding over fiiine merino sweaters ash cigars in unreasonably large Macanudo trays behind floor-to-ceiling windows. On the healthier – albeit less macho – extreme, I’ve developed a liking for fruit sold all around the City. If the guy selling you fruit doesn’t speak English, don’t purchase it from. I don’t know if this is a good rule of thumb, but Mexican guys know good produce: oranges, pomegranates, (insert other fruit here). That’s all I’ve really had, and I don’t know if my aphorism is a wise one to follow, but the fruit I’ve picked up in the City is damn fine and very juicy.

The train is something else, though. In a world where everyone is plugged in, it’s nice to hear everyone shut up – if only for a few minutes. I’ve heard complaints about a lack of cell-phone service underground, but it really is a godsend. It’s bad enough to see everyone playing Angry Birds or shaking their iPods to scramble their Boggle tiles – imagine if all these people were able to talk on their phones, and in such a cramped place! And to anybody whose iPods are loud enough for me to hear, I wish you’d go to hell. And I’m sure it’s nobody I know whose iPods are that loud. Most people whose decibel levels are cranked up loud enough for me to become irritated all fit the same mold. We’ll start at the bottom and work our way up: Nike Dunks, a few months (maybe years) old. The laces are tied permanently. We know this because there is no chance in hell this girl is bending over every damn time they put on their shoes to double-knot them. Continuing up: tight jeans that balloon up to a muffin top. In warmer weather we look away because we don’t want to see the stretch marks on the lower back, or even worse, a tramp stamp – both of which we know are there. In these more blistery seasons, they often wear a pleather jacket. Many wear that one that have that swervy cat emblazoned on the back with glittery thread. The hair? The hair is a bit greasy (maybe it’s some type of product, I don’t know personally. I use a 2-in-1 shampoo and simply dry it after the shower). It has that tight tight curl. Chubby cheeks, cell phone in one hand, and a look on their face like they don’t know they’re music is polluting the soundwaves throughout the entire train. Maybe in addition to deaf, they’re dumb as rocks, too.

David Sedaris writes at length about changing scenery to change habits. In his case he moved to Japan and quit cigarettes. Less dramatically, I’ve moved to the City and I’ve started many things anew: Pull-ups, every chance I can. The doorway bar is transportable, but it might as well just be screwed in. And vodka – originally I perceived this libation as a tasteless means for Zoddy’s girls to get jah-runk (that is, drunk for anyone who’s not heard me make fun of imbecilic females). But hoo-wee – vodka is tasty: some tonic, some citrus and ice. Go out and get yourself a bottle. It’s somewhere behind the glass in the store around the corner.