I live in Manhattan. And for the most part, I love this Manhattan. But sometimes it’s hard. Like when it’s February. And rainy. And the 6 train is late every. single. day. And the wind is so wild that you think your air conditioner might fall right out of your 5th-floor-walkup living room window. And you have to keep that air conditioner in the window all year round because (1) you can’t control the raging temperature of your heaters and (2) you have no room to put the air conditioner if you take it out of the window because your apartment is the size of three office cubicles.
I’ve been dying to try out Big Gay Ice Cream for years but the moment was never right whenever I walked by. The moment *was* right on Monday. Aubrey, Emmy, and I celebrated Aubrey’s birthday at the West Village shop at Grove & 7th Ave – the original location is in the East Village on 7th St between 1st & A. When I arrived, I attempted to convince a French bulldog owner who was leaving to stay for a few minutes to surprise Aubrey, but the arrangement didn’t work out. What *did* work out was the ice cream situation I had in my hand minutes later.
I’ve been called a West Village wannabe for a few months now. I can’t help it. The West Village is my current dream world. I can’t stop thinking about living there one day. I don’t think I’ll be able to swing it with my next move, but perhaps with the next one I can get a nice brownstone townhouse on Commerce Street and live my days walking the quiet streets, wandering into small book stores, going to poetry readings, and eating at the 9,000 cupcake and gelato shops there.
Yesterday, a few friends and I decided to go see the Bodies Exhibition at South Street Seaport and ended up exploring Brooklyn as well.