Rats In My Alley & Carey Grant

I was listening to the rats fight outside in the alleyway this morning as I had my first cup of coffee. They matched a heated verbal discussion spilling out the window across the courtyard. (Yes, my window's open. Yes, it's winter.) We are so much like them here. Running and scurrying and eating each other alive just to get at a small piece of pizza someone dropped on the ground. Right now, people are getting anxious on the subway cars because the flu is so deadly up here. I've stopped using it during peak hours, and I've been washing my hands like someone with a bad case of OCD. It's been quite an experience, living in Brooklyn for five years. I've gotten grittier. I don't like to show it unless it's necessary, though. There are those who wear their moxie with pride, and those who would rather only take it out of the toolbox when needed. That's me. I'm not attracted to constant, proud city grit. I find it obnoxious in large doses. Class is a rare bird these days. When I come across someone who knows how to insult with class, it's amazing. The creativity of throwing some shade is a lost art, and I wish more people knew how to do it. Yeah, that's what fighting rats inspire me to write about.

Now enjoy this awesome Cary Grant scene with me before I start on my second draft of the book today.