The Morgan Avenue stop on the L train had had a reputation among hipsters for many years before it became the Oakland-looking environment that it is today.  When I first met Mandy, one of the founders of The Trophy Bar, she said she was qualified to run her own establishment because of the years she had spent tending the hippest of the hip bars in the BK scene.  Where is that I wondered and she said, it’s called THE BAR at the Morgan Stop although it was about to close since the neighborhood was becoming too hip.  This irony happens over and over and over again.

The choreographer John Jasperse had had his dance studio at the Morgan stop in the nineties and when he was interviewed by the top dance critic at the NY Times he bragged about how he would meet ‘crack whores’ in the staircase when he took a break between rehearsals.  He was happy to be moving out of there he said in the early 21^st Century because the area was full of too many good looking people nowadays and “I just can’t concentrate!’’  I most certainly know that feeling.

The Morgan stop is especially charming and ironic in that it has its own stand alone little brick building where you just walk up out of the tunnel and land on the street in the middle of what seems to be nowhere.  An industrial zone that is still technically labeled “the East Williamsburg Industrial Valley!’’  The abandoned feeling has had quite a successful appeal to the new immigrants many of whom seem to be from Ohio with thick beards and thicker flannel shirts that they wear even in the summer afternoons.

Walking large dogs and starting to drink early in the day are not unique to any community but characterize the hanging out zone that paints clean graffiti along the appropriately named Bogart Avenue strip.  The strip hosts high end ‘the next table is available in two hours’ restaurants such as over rated Pizza Place, Roberta’s and secretly excellent Japanese style, Momo Shack.  The center of the Bogart strip about a block south of the station house is the down home local version of Whole Foods known as Brooklyn Natural.  It was there that Jane was doing her retailing.

She had brilliantly designed a display cart from wood that had a hitch to her bicycle and she opened it up to display her coloring books and t shirts and other ‘glyphs’ that she was trying to sell.  However, it was clearly the young lady herself who was the object of attention as strollers meandered by and immediately struck up a conversation with her.  She was once again wearing one of her hippie hats and her sheepskin coat but had a t shirt that she had painted and red striped tights that once again emphasized her firm muscles and her very sexy mid section.

She seemed even more adorable in the lovely warm sunlight and as I arrived she immediately gave me a long warm hug, quite a move given that we had just met and chatted the night before.  Naturally, she was drinking a tea and chatting with a very lovely young man who was tall wearing a leather jacket and obviously, her own age.  She introduced us and continued the conversation.  I had a completely different impression of her now than I had had the night before but there was no question that I was gone on irrational attachment and addictive lust.  So much goddamned lust!

She showed me her coloring book and started to discuss her characters and her ideas of creating a series of ‘deities’ as she related some of the coursework she had taken at the Gallatin Division of New York University.  For a brief moment, I realized who it was she reminded of, the actress Ellen Page who I had discovered from my daughter and specifically the character she had played in the Rome based Woody Allen film.  I brushed this thought aside only to have it filed in the ‘dude, you are really in deep now’ category.  Her voice grew deeper and more seductive as she said hello to every single person who walked by and tried to get them to look at her work.  She exuded confidence and an almost annoying aggressive ego at the same time that her nervousness and constant re arranging of what she was wearing and where to place the objects led me to believe she was anxious.  I realized that I might be making her nervous and that she may have heard stuff about me.  She clearly had a business agenda as a component of wanting to see me again and she got right to it without any lead in or disclaimer:

“Do you run Showpaper too?’’ she asked. “Showpaper…,” I say, “kind of, well, I work as an advisor to them yes…I don’t really run it.”

“I really want to get my work on Showpaper, I mean I think it is the greatest thing.  It is just so great…I have a chance to get my work out there!’’

I paused and tried not to do my usual, I-can-do-anything-for-anyone-with-a-pussy conditioned response.  I was about to say something when she bit back at me really hard:

“Do you know Alexis Cabrera?’’ she asked.

Once again, just as when I first had her ask me if I was an artist the night before, this simple direct question led time to suddenly stand still.

In that frozen pause, I saw Alexis, I saw the two women superimposed on each other as all of the connections I discussed earlier bled out.  “Sure…I know Alexis. She was there last night”

“She was…well, I don’t know what she looks like…she emailed me…”

Our discussion continued and I was proud of myself for not offering anything – for remaining vague about everything.  I thought about how my pulse had gone so high for a second when she said Alexis’ name at first but I shut down fast and I was amused at how this was the first time anyone had said her full name out loud something that I had been singing to myself inside my head for months.  The melody probably came from something Tom Mandel had written back in college.  Every once in awhile I was able to steal  a firm scrutiny of her leggings.  I was sunk in a mine!

“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?’’ she asked.

“I don’t have any plans so…”  “Great – so we can go to dinner tonight then…I am kind of hungry!”

We were off nearly hand in hand to visit the very tasty and very overpriced Momo Shack.

 Next Chapter