The test took the time it took and by the time it was over, it was time for lunch.
So me and the Mariner headed to our version of hospital food. Surrounded by every language in the book - Brooklyn, Long Island, French - we ate and kibbitz with the "maitre d'" (which I don't know how to say in Yiddish) and by the time the Mariner got back from the bathroom, said Maitre and me had found out we grew up down the street from one another and his friend still lived in the Quartchyard.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.