It’s been a while since I’ve people-watched on Ninth Avenue. I used to do so quite often, spending long nights sitting by the window of our favorite bar, talking with friends and watching strangers as they passed by. This week, with an excuse to remain in midtown until the start of a concert for which …
My first paying job in New York was in the fundraising and development department of a nonprofit that helped homeless New Yorkers get access to healthcare. The job was a godsend. A woman who did some work with the off-off Broadway theater where I spent my final semester of grad school interning was looking for …
I love my neighborhood. It’s families and college students and people with dogs and ice cream trucks. I have trains on either side of my apartment, beautiful views of the sunset from atop the hill, and the neighborhood is peppered with great little parks. They’re great to me at least. One such park is across …
I love where I live. In a broad sense, I love New York City more than anywhere else in the world with the possible exception of the Enchanted Tiki Room at Disneyland. This place just does things for me. New things, all the time. It’s addictive in that way. In a more local sense, I …
For the past few months, I’ve been battling a sneaky depression that’s been playing hide-and-seek in my consciousness. It’s popped up on its own accord and despite my best attempts at playing whack-a-mole to send it back from whence it came, it just doesn’t work that way. The first time I really recognized what depression …
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Ryan Brinson 