Ohshit, so you mean like Snooki? Like those housewives? Like big Tony, like fucking garbage fucking everywhere? Like like? Yeah, something like that. Or more like short sequin skirts on funnel-cake summer nights and the kind of how you doin’eh that feels like a ladle of warm tomato-basil sauce in your stomach when you hear it. More like cat calls on every corner and the Path shimmy to and from the city—its faint bouquet of urine, booze, and bagel. The subway stop announcements like scratched ...