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Is Tuesday our last chance to vote in the primaries? Yes! Find your poll site here, which might be different than your early voting site. On that same link, you can see a sample ballot and see the other people you’ll be voting for.

Do you know who you’re voting for yet? If you don’t, Gothamist has a nice guide on candidates for mayor and other offices. They also have a quiz to show you which candidates align with your values. The New York Times reports on the election and has been posting these “10 Questions” interviews with each candidate, but they’ve also done these really frustrating non-endorsement endorsements from their opinion team. I’d also check out the Working Families Party slate. I got a voter guide from the city in the mail, and you probably did, too. This election matters more than the general because the democrat that wins is almost definitely going to beat the nobody Republican and disgraced Eric Adams, who is running as an independent. For other offices, Reynoso for borough president, Brannan for comptroller (do not rank Levine), and Williams for public advocate (do not rank Rajkumar).

What’s this ranked-choice voting stuff, and who should I rank? Here’s an explainer. Read for yourself whose values you line up with, but I can tell you where I’m thinking so far: 1. Zohran Mamdani (progressive with best chance at beating Andrew Cuomo) 2. Brad Lander (proven progressive with loads of experience) 3. Adrienne Adams (lots of experience) 4. Zellnor Myrie (cares about public education) 5. Michael Blake (did great at the first debate). My ordering might change based on if anything crazy happens over the next few weeks. Whoever you rank, I strongly advocate not ranking serial sexual harasser, nursing home death hider, journalist avoider Andrew Cuomo, who is hoping that name recognition will send him to the mayor’s office, or Jessica Ramos, a wannabe-progressive throwing her record away to kiss Cuomo’s dirty ring.

If you have any questions or want to talk anything out, I’m obviously here. I don’t think any of the candidates are perfect, but that’s what makes ranked-choice voting so great. Go form your own opinions! Be free!

Sticky, sticky summer. I’ve been feeling crazy all week. Not necessarily bad, just crazy. Unsatisfied! And unsure of who I am. Perfect summer yearning, I guess. I’m a step away from irritation at all times.

After two-and-a-half years of living in New York, I finally have been to all five boroughs after spending part of my Juneteenth on Staten Island, which is arguably a racist way to spend the day. People love to (rightfully) crap on Staten Island, but it’s still ultimately New York and therefore better than a lot of other places. Even though it’s obviously whiter than the other boroughs, it’s still much more diverse than lots of other places and has more public transit, too.

I took the ferry (actually amazing) and walked for two hours down to the Verrazano Bridge and back up to the Grasmere station of the Staten Island Railroad. The forecast was scary, but I walked anyway, avoiding the thunderstorms that would strike Brooklyn but not here. It only rained for a smidge until my ferry commute back. I walked through some seedy neighborhoods, some boring ones, and some beautiful parks (and old military forts) while mostly listening to the Addison Rae album.

I think the Verrazano Bridge is my favorite bridge in New York (even though I can’t walk over it — thanks Robert Moses), and I find its blue to be a calming hue. I reconnected enough with nature to drink out of a working water fountain in a park while a monarch butterfly flittered past me. Did you know the whole borough has zero gay bars?

I won’t be reconnecting with nature much this week while I avoid the heat wave. Who knows what kind of slop I’ll have next entry after Pride weekend. Anyway, this entry is obviously NOT slop!

This is my thesis, modeled after people saying the best bagel/chopped cheese/sandwich in New York is the one from the deli/bodega/convenience store around the corner from your building.

I have to edit a newsletter for work (hi Matts) at 5 p.m. a few nights a week. If I’m working from home and get most of my work done, I’ll walk over to my gym and take the meeting nearby. Sometimes I take it from an AI-generated pizza shop or cafe next door. If I want to actually be comfortable, I go down the block to the corner of Wyckoff and Starr for Wyckoff Starr Coffee Shop.

The cafe feels like a wintertime place. It’s dim and little with a few seats. It’s themed off of Twin Peaks with Laura Palmer imagery smattered about. To take my meeting here, I walk in and either get a shot of espresso or whatever sad pastry is left at this point of the day. I’m usually the only person inside at that hour aside from the barista, which is perfect for whatever tangent I fly into during these calls.

The barista I usually see there is a guy maybe a few years older than me, but I saw someone different when I went last week. Barista du jour (BDJ!) looked to be my age with wavy, long red hair cascading from a bandana. She was cleaning up in the back while I waited for her to come take my order, then turned around and breezily stepped to the register to ask what she could get for me. I grabbed a bag of sour cream and onion chips from a basket, smiled, and told her I just wanted some chips. We smiled at each other while she rung my order up. I paid and made a comment about the weather.

We have interactions like this all the time. As all boomer dads and grandpas know, these are always a bit more fun when the person on the other end is attractive. I didn’t really think deeply about this girl other than Oh, she’s cute! when she turned around. When someone is cute, kind, or both, I might be a bit more talkative and smiley. Nothing crazy, not enough to write a newsletter about.

I got to the cafe 10 minutes before my call, so I had time to work and absorb my surroundings. I watched three other people during this period walk in and interact with BDJ. First, a 40s-something blue collar guy with an RBF walking in, that is, until he talked to BDJ. Nothing stood out about the interaction aside from his politeness and smile I could hear through his teeth. Short convo.

Our second patron was an older-but-not-old guy that clearly has interacted with BDJ before. He started going on and on about There’s that face I love and asking her about how she’s been. She obliges kindly but not enthusiastically. Then, he starts going on about I have to get you in my studio, which after trying to tune in I wasn’t sure was a photography or music studio. I’m leaning on headshots, though. They both were talking about work, implying that BDJ, like millions of other baristas before and after her, has more creative endeavors when she’s not creating latte specials. BDJ was more interested (but still not fully interested), and when he asked for her Instagram, she gave it to him. This conversation lasted multiple minutes, even reviving after he walked away to get a lid.

Finally, a guy around our age looking indie and Bushwicky in a smol bean straight boy way that I gathered works at some other food spot nearby. He hadn’t come into the shop in a while, and they were catching up. BDJ seemed vaguely interested but not really. Just nice. He was happy to chat with her about whatever. I was too busy being employed to listen to this conversation, obviously, but they talked for a minute or two.

She behaved the same with all three of these men: polite, nice, agreeable, not shutting them down or egging them on either. The plight of any service working girl. All three of them told her to have a nice day when they left. Only one was overtly flirtatious, but I wish you could hear his tone because I didn’t find it threatening, just classic sleazy-but-harmless behavior from older dudes.

Although I’m not a creep and watched her nonstop through these interactions, I became taken with BDJ. Pretty with a low voice that I haven’t seen her use in this job aside from responding to whoever is talking to her. I started putting myself in her shoes (some of you could really benefit from doing that once in a while).

Does she enjoy any of this? Is it more fun to pass the time alone in the corner or out front being entertained by the dudes (and young, very beautiful bisexual 26 year olds from Pittsburgh) that want something from the shimmer behind her eyes? Is it more fun to talk to the older guy who might get her some sort of career thing or the younger guy she already knows? Does it matter at all?

Women in all workplaces deal with transactions with men; it’s just that some of them are more explicitly transactions than others. I’m so lucky to work mostly remotely with only a tiny smattering of people that are based nearby I can see in the office. I’ve dealt with creepy dudes at every job I’ve had, whether as a hostess or a journalist. If your office doesn’t have a touchy 50-something guy, are you even working in an office?

I don’t want this piece to sound like it’s all about men and creepy men and dudes and men, though. That wasn’t my intention. I think I just found myself envying BDJ and trying to figure out why, and I think part of it might be that her transactional interactions aren’t under layers of corporate dynamics.

Watching her, I wished I was more of a woman and tried to figure out what that means. Did I want dudes both trashy and not to look at me? Did I want my hair to look pretty in a bandana? (I ended up wearing one later that week, which I didn’t connect to watching BDJ until writing this out right now.) Did I want to look effortless in a space making food? Did I want to have a cool, low voice?

Whatever, it was probably all of them. I started giving her a backstory. What are her creative endeavors when she’s not at Wyckoff Starr? I imagine she lives in the neighborhood somewhere off of Knickerbocker for an easy commute. She looks like she plays the guitar but sings better. She’s bisexual but will probably marry a man. She’s an artist, but I’m not sure what kind. Something visual. I tried wondering if she acts the same when she’s not working. You can almost never tell.

I remembered this comedy TikTok of a corporate girl having small talk with a girl in a creative field, sounding sort of condescending, sort of envious. I relate to this character and imagine I’m sounding like her now. I am shocked to see this video having under a thousand likes after expecting more, and I saw a commenter say this hasn’t blown up bc it’s too real. Someone else said Next year she’s gonna take a sabbatical and then be a DJ or get into influencing.

I also am in the privileged position of newly being a bagel nepo baby. The few times I worked felt great, talking to people and making yumminess with my hands. However, I clearly don’t know anything the way that the true bagelers that work with my mom do about the freaks that come into the shop as well as the kind ones, the broken ovens and new flavors. Still, that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about Irish exiting New York and hiding behind the shop’s saloon doors and rolling bagels all night until the cows come home (which they won’t because it’s Pittsburgh). Making bagels is an art, after all.

I don’t really have anything profound to say other than that I’m projecting whatever my bullshit is onto this normal woman just like all these random dudes are. And that it’s funny that non-corporate people think my job is corporate whereas actually corporate people do not see me as one of them. I exist somewhere in the middle of the corporate–creative spectrum, and I am just terrible with grey areas even though I keep finding myself there. I like my job — and I like it better than any job I’ve had — but being on a computer all day yields creative urges that I can’t avoid unless I want to have a breakdown in 10 years. I seek more balance so I can keep being good at my job while not being a burned-out robot.

Writing this newsletter used to feel more creative but now doesn’t because it feels like more of a ritual and less of a risk. I almost forget that this goes out to people. Almost. I’m sniffing for some new endeavor to try on. I think it’s time to somehow prove to myself that I’m actually not a bad dancer. Or a bad artist. But when I find myself glamorizing the barista, an occupation pounded with evil customers and blue-haired stereotypes, I need to get out of my multi-screen bubble and start doing something with my hands like they do. Don’t let me rant about yearning again on this newsletter until I take action and start doing something with this pent up energy.

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