Chapter 0.5 - Is it worth it?

I don't exactly have chapters lined up and ready to go but I do have the entire introduction waiting for me to do something about it. There's only so many times I can force Gio to read the same thing. I'm going to post the entire thing to decide for myself if it's actually worth it. Well and to have you decide. I'm going to have to give everyone credit in the book who helps me, aren't I? What am I getting myself into.

Also the title really is, "Till Dawn Do Us Part" . There is nothing more fitting. And the character list isn't entirely accurate so don't be offended if you're not on there yet guys, I'm getting there. This is just what I initially started with. And please don't look twice into my candid speaking.

Here we go!

I never thought I’d be spending my hopes and dreams fund on bread and butter- actual, tangible bread and butter – also including but not exclusive to Oreo’s, ice cream, once in a while you’ll discover gelato, Virgin Mary candles, the coffee really isn’t bad, neither is this six pack of Budweiser, do you think they carry PBR, but I’m really crying for this pack of tropical starburst; they’re one in the same out here.

​It wasn't until I was introduced to ‘the struggle’ that things really started to take shape. We’re all familiar with the retched phrase - the only spot-on explanation to subway construction, L train delays, cash only MTA machines, Saturday pay-day but I want to go out on Friday, cracked iPhone screens, this $30 phone case was supposed to work, shuttle busses and the entire Union Square station in general. Taking no definite shape or form (although I’d like to think mine can be mistaken for your typical metro card), the struggle is always that battle you can't seem to win. For us young band of dream chasers, guitar players, bike riders, vandals, dog walkers, free spirits and all around non-conformists – the struggle became the only thing we knew – the flannel button-up, black denim wearing, parliament smoking, struggle.

Meet Us - the Kitchen Staff & Side liners - Our Routine Nightly Crew
Bodega – (n) "...it's also a good place for minors to buy booze with (or without) a fake ID and not get caught." Urban Dictionary
The Change Jar – why are there only pennies in here
Karlos – best friend, roommate, lead instigator and mouth to feed
Uncle Gio – late night voice of reason
Caleb – he loves me, he loves me not
Cous – taste tester, crumb thief and four legged vacuum
Bryan - he's the funny one, isn't he?
Steph & Chels - guys, we're gonna be late
Jared/Anthony - interchangeable third party outsiders

My inner Jersey leads me to admit how long it actually took me to step foot into a bodega. It wasn't until I saw my downstairs neighbors ordering late night heros (hoagies, sandwiches, whatever) that I gave myself the okay. Only now do I realize the level of their inebriation and well, their judgement most likely compromised.

The best way to explain this to a newcomer (struggler) is plainly so - my mom and sister would never comfortably, even willingly, make edible purchases from any surrounding bodega. Not that our sober judgement is any different compared to theirs but this is Brooklyn baby, and out here we don't give a fuck.

The more time I bravely, mostly drunkenly, spent in any bodega, the more possibilities I discovered. There's a system one must uncover - the Dominican stores have everything - goat cheese, fresh spinach and the best bread (Karlos claims it's a Spanish thing). The middle easterners usually
only cater to your basic needs, but at every hour. Mid afternoon and you find yourself craving grilled chicken and avocado on a whole wheat roll, it's the Dominicans you need to make friends with. But when it's 12:30 AM and you can barely make it down the 3 story stair case without a tragedy, the middle easterners will have their door propped wide open and your five dollar turkey and cheese hero waiting, "You want pickles baby, right?"

This is what becomes home when you're 19, in your first apartment and don't have a fucking clue. Next thing I knew I was the teen mom to a stray dog and band of 10 or so hungry misfits (human). That's how it began though - where the stories really start to form. We all found each other somehow - equally as lost, broken and reckless. We loved each other, loved to eat, drink and adventure, but most of all we loved this great city we shared - one way or another, one bodega and family meal at a time.