the happy peasant

15 Dec 2011

Sweet Sweet Abilene

Abilene, my temptress.  Every time I have something to go home to, I find myself going home to you instead.  You are so warm, inviting.  There are so few bars that I feel uninhibited going into alone – and you, Abilene, are one of them. After a long day, I

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01 Dec 2011

Black Sheep Pub

Right now, I’m sitting at Black Sheep, drinking a surprisingly decent three-dollar glass of wine while five other two-person groups/couples (still trying to figure out if the two girls sitting across the bar are lesbians) talk quietly, and/or watch sports going on somewhere behind me.  My friend is sitting next to me, behind

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Free-Reading-by- Flannery-O'Connor-award-winners
20 Nov 2011

FREE Reading by Flannery O’Connor Award Winners Tonight at KGB Bar

There’s something delightfully awkward about mixing bars and literature, as I learned from last week’s event— the reading at Franklin Park by Electric Literature authors. Upon walking into the bar – which was surprisingly packed and infused with that certain wild, uncoordinated energy – I looked at the little table and mic where the

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17 Nov 2011

A Dollar More for Dignity: Bianca

To sustain any healthy relationship you have to pump love, commitment and money – lots of fucking money.  I incessantly go beyond my means when it comes to dating, which is fine, when it’s just dating.  But when the warm bowels of a relationship come calling, there’s no way around

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10 Nov 2011

Happy Hour at Botanica

Botanica is a safe haven.  There’s no better way to describe it.  It sits like a bomb shelter on the south side of smoky Houston street, two blocks away from the undulating sea of Soho shoppers and opposite the building-size advertisements that pollute the north side of the street.  After

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27 Oct 2011

Broke-Ass Sandwiches: Saigon Vietnamese Sandwich Deli

There are goddamn sandwiches everywhere in NYC.  Each bodega has their own interpretation of what a sandwich is.  My bodega seems to think a sandwich is slimy meat with shredded lettuce that dissolves into rusty water, and I’m pretty sure the bodega across the street uses the deli cabinet to hide drugs.

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20 Oct 2011

Why Your Broke-Ass Needs a MoMA Membership

I know you’re probably having your third serving of ramen this week and laughing at the title of this article because your broke-ass and “museum membership” don’t belong in the same goddamn sentence.  I thought the same thing.  My friend was like, “oh, I’m a member” and I wanted to slap

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