You are currently viewing the stories for January, 2001

The View From the Seventieth Floor

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Financial District

I used to gloat about it. Somebody would ask for my work mailing address and I’d reply slowly, evenly, Two-World-Trade-Center. And then pause a beat, just for effect – seventieth floor. Seven –zero. That’s right. There’d often be a comment, sometimes even a gentle, “wow.” My reply varied depending on circumstance or mood. Occasionally, however, […]

Love and Hate in an Elevator

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Gramercy Park

It’s after five on Friday and I have pleasing, twenty-something plans for the evening. Judging from the look of Larry, a diminutive agent at the literary agency where I am director of operations, he does too. A tanned, old-school publishing guy, he’s a middle-aged romantic, known to still hold his handsome wife’s hand in public. […]

See You in September

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Upper West Side

She listens to me. She comforts me. She keeps all my secrets. She knows me inside out. She is not my mother. She is…my therapist. The note sat on top of the July issue of Vanity Fair in her waiting room: “I will be on vacation from July 27-September 5th.” “Where are you going?” I […]

The Matchmaker

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Greenwich Village

He looks like someone’s grandfather. We are, after all, in Washington Square Park, in a playground fueled by the energy of cooped-up city kids desperate to climb plastic treehouses, while their parents, grandparents, and nannies watch on. Slightly stooped in a well-worn but tidy blue blazer, he smiles as he admires the children. My five-year-old […]

Stillness in the Cemetery

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: East Village

I tried to break into the Marble Cemetery .  One Tuesday, towards midnight, I changed out of my office clothes into jeans, a sweater, and narrow-toed tennis shoes, because I would have to climb a chain-link fence entwined with barbed wire.  I gathered up supplies–a bottle of Poland Spring water, a Power Bar, and a […]

What You Least Want to Hear From a Stranger at Key Food: “You Are So Beautiful”

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: East Village

It was just after 2 am on Tuesday, December 5, 2000 at Key Food on the corner of 4th and Avenue A in the East Village. I felt the sudden urge for some Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. After removing a box of Spirals from the top shelf, I proceeded to the check-out. There were a […]

It’s An Honor to Be Nominated

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: The Bram Stoker Awards

“Congratulations!” read the subject heading of the e-mail. But no, I hadn’t won a free cruise, or a much larger penis. My short novel, Northern Gothic had made the final ballot for the Bram Stoker Award. The Stokers, managed by the Horror Writers Association, celebrate horror fiction, poetry, comics and “alternative media” by holding a […]

Out in the Kozmos

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: All Over, Manhattan

When the car nipped at my bike tire it made a ‘zzzzow’ sound like a mosquito on uppers buzzing in my ear. The muscles in my arms and legs got tense at once and that’s probably why I didn’t tip over. City sounds sang out in a cacophony of car horns and screaming pedestrians. Potholes […]

Hat Tip

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Greenwich Village

I am–and I do not necessarily advise this–walking through the meatpacking district in a miniskirt. Pastis and co. not- withstanding, this area is one of my favorites in the city—- one of the only remaining places where, when the clubsters hail their last cab, the trucks still rumble up and haul in their real, tangible, […]

Carry a Big Stick

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Brooklyn

The night was thick and hot and I was done playing, ready to go home, but Dan persuaded me to have one more beer with him. He looked like a cartoon character: large head, square matinee-idol hair and perfect shiny teeth. I had lost my match; he had won. Dan was bright and funny and […]

My Celluloid Childhood

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Brooklyn

I was born in a moviehouse in Brooklyn, New York in the middle of the 20th century. I can swear only to the Brooklyn and 20th century parts. But whatever hospital records say, the moviehouse part seems equally likely because I grew up with all the common symptoms of placental exposure to such places. That […]

No Sex at Wesleyan University

by 01/02/2001
Neighborhood: Upper West Side

Ê To members of the snoopy national media who still call to inquire, Brian Brown, a junior at Wesleyan University, insists, at articulate length, that he is no aspiring porno king. His favorite book is Vladimir Nabokov’s “Pale Fire”, and he is currently immersed in the films of avant-garde German directors like Werner Herzog, and […]