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About New York City

I saunter up, all cocky, say, “Hey, how’s biz?” She laughs—dry, sarcastic laugh—goes, “Better than your fish stink.” Burn! I’m mad for a sec, but damn, she’s funny! Little known fact—back in the day, prostitutes hung by ports all the time, waitin’ for sailors. History’s wild, right? Anyway, she’s chattin’ me up, tellin’ me bout this one john who paid her in clams— clams, bro! I’m dyin’ laughin’, picturin’ her stuffin’ shells in her purse.

Introductions in Belleville

Warning to folks in W. Irondequoit and the surrounding area: This afternoon a young white man in a red sedan with a sticker on the passenger.

I gotta tell ya: some days, Irondequoit drives me cray-cray. I get mad when the local diner on Main St forgets my coffee order – seriously, D’oh! And then, bam! Outta nowhere, I remember, “Nothing is as it seems” and let it slide. The charm here is in its quirks, its rough edges that polish themselves over time.

Irondequoit town supervisor fails to get enough signatures for Democratic primary