Northern Boulevard Blog

Things are swampy in the big city. It gets very humid and then there are big thunderstorms. I don’t mind, except that I keep forgetting to bring an umbrella. It’s leftover Los Angeles behavior. So I’ll stand under an awning and watch it.

Last night, the rain poured down so hard that all the subways had to slow down and/or reroute. This happened while I was in the subway so I never saw the rain, but did experience the slow train. We changed routes a couple of times.

Had snacks and tea with my writer friend, Joanna T., at Cannelle Patisserie, this weekend. I highly recommend it. Brilliant place. Joanna knows a thing or two about food. The chef is from the Waldorf-Astoria. It’s in a strip mall parking lot in Queens about a ten minute walk from my apartment. The anchor is Waldbaum’s. The whole complex looks like something out of Burbank. There is a huge Valley Sky over the parking lot. Wide open space. And 1972 prices. Queens is, afterall, still on the rise when it comes to fancy food. If you are ever in the neighborhood, you must go. I love it. And, oh yes, I will mention again—fantastic prices. Frenchy stuff.

Speaking of which. I am not a cook. I mean, I will do it if forced. But I am never forced. I eat on the fly. Tonight, I had the good intention of making myself a big green salad with a grilled chicken breast plopped on top. Oil, vinegar, some grated cheese. Easy. I can do that. It got late. The local grocery store was closed and I just said, “Fuck it, I’m going to White Castle.”

I have never been, and my good friend, Michael S., he once stayed here in this apartment and told me how I had to go to White Castle for “A sack of ten.” Many of you might already know how this works at White Castle. You can buy a whole bag of mini-burgers (are they really burgers?) for very little cash. So, I walked up Northern Boulevard, past the Columbian neighborhood shops, to the border of the Peruvian neighborhood shops, past at least five Hamburguesa places, a car wash, a few 99cent stores, the fire house, the Rite Aid, and across from the brand new CVS stood White Castle. I couldn’t buy a sack. I went a la carte. Because when you’re a somewhat upscale dude trawling for meat on downscale Northern Boulevard, you simply must insist on the a la carte experience. I ordered one burger slider, one chicken slider and some onion rings. Four bucks.

I texted Michael S. to let him know what I was up to. He called me, immediately, excited and supportive! It’s always good to have a little conversation with someone when you are eating. Helps the digestion. Monkey ritual thing. After I ate my White Castle on that swampy, ugly Northern Boulevard, I went up to the counter—I was the only customer in the place—and I asked the question that so many before me must have asked after slathering down their sliders, “Is there an open liquor store around here?”

A happy woman near some sort of food machine told me it was a half a block away. I asked, “On the same side of the street?” “YES!” She was so happy for me that I didn’t have to cross the street. She was not the woman who took my order, but more of a back-in-the-office type who had come up to check on things. I think she was impressed that I was white and had on a button down shirt.

I walked the half block to the liquor store. It was one of those places that sell big jugs of wine for 8.99 and bottles of other stuff that should be called, “Nothing but pain in the morning.” I bought a red wine on special. In order to pay, I had to tunnel the bottle through a large mouse hole that opened sideways through the bullet proof glass. Paid cash and lugged it home. It’s for tomorrow. I still have a little left in another bottle.

This move to New York (we are moving to New York now) is full-on full.

I really was ready to leave Los Angeles. But I do miss my friends, my house and the weather.

I am at the peak of my career. I’m eating White Castle on Northern Boulevard.

I have never felt more creative. I mostly fill out internet fields for banks and vendors informing them of my email and mailing address change.

We have great assets. We have no cash.

We live apart. I have never felt closer.

I hate writing that does this best of times, worst of times shit. I do it anyway.

Lucky me.

Northern Boulevard is really ugly. But it is so honest.