The first week: It begins.

This blog was born when Reilly's cat went missing last Sunday and she spent most of the day on her stoop smoking and studying, hoping the kitty would find her way safely back home.

But the seed for the blog has been germinating for quite awhile with both of us, as we gripe about our neighborhood every time we get together. That same Sunday, I was walking through our booming south Brooklyn nabe with another friend, grumbling about how every week there's another new shop for jerks where I can't afford anything even if I wanted their jerk stuff. Every time I left my apartment, I got the feeling that our 'hood was one big club that I'm not invited to join.

So that day, after I joined Reilly on the stoop, drinks were drunk (as happens when we get together), and a plan formed to start our own club. One for the cool kids.



We were out on the stoop til well after the quiet neighborhood's bedtime, watching the dog walkers and the variations on the bikers: the checkered shirt couple (he in blue gingham, she in red), the flashing light combo couple (he with flashing light on the bike, she with it on the helmet, both helmeted, of course), outright laughing at couple on the tandem bike, and wondering who has the most boring sex of the lot of 'em. The next night, we were out there again, and spotted our first Sight of the Night: A lone biker with a blue miner lamp on his helmet, a headlight, a red-flashing-light-up back medallion, and a red-flashing rump light below his seat.

On Wednesday, we saw him again. And so that lone biker became our first character: Light Brite.

I can see now our summer unrolling before us, as we get better at stooping. We'll be obnoxious, zing what needs to be zung, prank the sidewalkers, come to know our neighbors and neighborhood more and maybe even like some of them. At least now I have somewhere to sit, and we have our own little (growing) community. Every high school needs the smokers, socs require greasers; every bloated institution needs its foils, and so our neighborhood needs us. So dig it, and get stoopid.

(Callie the cat is fine. She was in the crazy people's apartment. More on them later.)