I have often felt that Greenwich Village, and particularly MacDougal Street, exists at least partly outside of time and space, and is a nexus for much that is weird and wonderful – or sometimes merely weird – in the universe. For perspective on the value of my insights I should add that I have heard pigeons muttering obscenities under their beaks as they strutted past me on the sidewalk; I have held long conversations with the espresso machine in the Café Rienzi – the one that looks like an overweight Buck Rogers rocket ship; I have often felt that ancient wisdom is hidden in fortune cookies. I am aware that people wait for hours so they can get in front of me on line at the supermarket or take the last table at a restaurant just as I enter. I have heard cats squatting in window ledges giggle at me as I pass by. And there, just at the edge of my vision, occasionally lurks a unicorn. I could be wrong.
Read the rest today at 1 pm EST.
