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Today in Queens I passed a store called “Easy Pickins” but at first I thought it said “Easy Pickles” and I was imagining living near this store and how before long it would just become part of conversation and not even sound weird or funny to me when I talked about picking up my groceries at Easy Pickles or dropping off my clothes at Easy Pickles or getting my imaginary dog groomed at Easy Pickles. As is perhaps clear, I wasn’t sure what kind of establishment Easy Pickles would be, but I’m pretty sure I’d frequent it.

Then I had dinner with an ex in Brooklyn who casually let slip that to this day he remains a defender of my writing. Or maybe he said that he finds himself defending my writing. Whichever it is it just lodged in my brain like a grain of sand in an oyster, causing periodic discomfort and unleashing the full power of my ability to think the fuck out of something (defend my writing? what? who’s attacking it? no really, what did they say? huh? and the casual way you just tossed that off, as if I should know that people are openly disparaging my writing, as if perhaps I’m too sensitive for making an issue of this? I mean I guess that’s the price you pay for putting your words out there and as a writer I can’t expect that everyone is going to agree with me but it’s not like I’ve been courting controversy. Oh my God, do I really need approval this much? I don’t mean to make this all about me but can we back up and talk about that some more. No really, what?) and by the end of dinner I had a full-on brain pearl. I’m thinking of having it made into a tasteful brooch.

I was in the other room and the TV was on and I heard “A new study says New Yorkers are number one in the country when it comes to being evicted by email.” I thought: “Evicted by email?? Is that even legal?”

But then I realized they said “addicted to” email.

Incidentally, even though I saw two shoeboxes yesterday I was feeling pretty excited about the prospect of creating a new home for me and my imaginary dog but today I’m feeling pretty pessimistic about it. You know, in case you were wondering.

Greetings lovelies. This is where I eat my words because I’ve long held that people who live in the outer boroughs and who are smug about it, carrying on with their room to breathe and look at all the trees and it’s great because you can go into the city and then leave the city behind and I know all the shop owners and look, I have a bike and a garden and a real eat-in kitchen and I pay a fraction of what you pay and it’s not for everyone, I DARE you to do it, you couldn’t HANDLE the gorgeous sidewalks, are annoying, and yet I think I’m going to become one.

So tell me: how do I feel about Woodside? Rego Park? Prospect Heights?

I’ll probably actually end up Brooklyn Heights, Cobble Hill/Carroll Gardens or Astoria, but I’m seeing these listings in other places and just wondering how I feel about them.