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I have lived in Connecticut for almost 7 years. Before that, I lived and grew up in Brooklyn, New York. My grandparents, Angelo diary and Eleanor, lived within walking distance of the apartment I shared with my mom. Growing up in New York was a kick in the ass in ways I'm still discovering, and I miss it diary terribly, but what I miss is stuff that doesn't exist anymore, stuff that COULDN'T exist, because I'm no longer a poor college student, staggering around with a vodka bottle, coat diary open, screaming to the night sky. I think I was a lot cuter than I thought I was, and got involved with some really shitty guys. That's right, John Hunter, I'm looking right at you, you giant freak (note: if your name happens to be John Hunter, or you happen to KNOW a John Hunter, unless you are the John Hunter who lived in a warehouse you couldn't afford rent on in New Jersey and met me in the early 90s, you are not the John of whom I speak. If you ARE, in fact, THE John Hunter, well, go fuck yourself).
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