I wrote this a year ago and it’s been sitting in my drafts in need of an end, which it still doesn’t have. I guess I may as well post it though, and keep on this habit of providing fresh content….

There was an episode of Will and Grace (during the Harry Connick, Jr. years) where, after Grace gets married, she moves to Brooklyn. (TV Watching Companion doesn’t like watching Will and Grace so my wording and context might be off since I haven’t seen a rerun of that show in ages.)

Someone tells former Upper Westsider Grace of a great restaurant or something in her new Brooklyn Heights neighborhood and she says “I don’t know…I only know my street” and the audience erupts into thunderous laughter and knowing applause. Ha, Brooklyn. The place where people live because they have to. (And of course an artsy, bohemian, skull cap-wearing Rosanna Arquette is her massage therapist neighbor – because people in Brooklyn don’t need real office jobs when they live in Brooklyn, it’s where unconventional people and Doctors Without Borders live. Plus it’s where Miranda was forced to live on Sex and the City against her will, with a crazy, eating-pizza-out-of-the-garbage mother-in-law. It is basically as torturous to live in as Abu Ghraib, according to Hollywood.)

The sad thing is that while I do know a Brooklyn beyond my actual street, it’s only like 1/16 of what Brooklyn is and it’s still pretty much an anomaly – the other 15/16ths are varied and different for better and for worse. I’m not as ignorant as Grace and I actually think that walking through the sketchy parts of Brooklyn are kind of fun (because you get hit on even if you’re in your gym clothes! Is that a wrong reason?) but the percentage of the city I actually know (’cause if I learned anything from Welcome Back, Kotter, it’s that Brooklyn is America’s fourth largest city) is teeny. I figure it’s kind of like a musical artist. Like, I know about 4 Elvis Costello albums really well, and I figure if his entire catalog is as good as King of America (odd choice for some, but my absolute favorite), as long as I know it’s out there and I have the standing opportunity to listen to them at some point, I’m fine. As long as I know I can take the R train to Bay Ridge and get a giant plate of spaghetti with a view of the Verrazzano, ok then. I can live with that, maybe some day I’ll be just bored enough to do it.

Also, Ted Allen lives in my neighborhood, so if it’s good enough for one out of five Queer Guys, maybe Hollywood should reexamine things.

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