I spent the evening in the East Village, meeting my friend Cynthia at Benny's East, a regular meeting spot for us over the last 13 years. As I was walking there, I was aware of how bourgeois (and old) I feel now, but then I see an abomination such as some frat boy walking on 13th Street between 1st and A and I realize I'm not much of an intruder after all.
I ran into a certain blogger on the way there, but I used his secret agent name rather than his meatspace name, and he didn't realize I was talking to him at first.
After Benny's we went to our favorite East Village music store, Etherea. I was somewhat stunned to notice the tattoo on the Williamsburg-esque young man working there: Arbeit Macht Frei, accompanied by a yellow star.
