9:30 am, Williamsburg. Dealing with my usual lack of sleep. Embracing my slow and thoughtful treck from the boy’s house to Blue Bottle Coffee. Enjoying my iced Kyota blend, and day-dreaming about the whimsy and mayhem of my neighborhood.
Had a braised goat sandwich at Diner with one of my best peeps, and unknowingly watched a bank robbery across the street. Now I’m feeling silly, thinking back how “Catch him!” and “Ketchup!” sound all too similar from the mouth of a frantic Hasidic banker.