I’ve been posting lots of photos of me walking my dog alone at night, so you may have a sense of my day-to-day. But honestly, NYC is eerie as all get out right now, gang. I walk Marty with a bandana tied around my face and avoid making eye contact with everyone I pass.

All of our neighborhood haunts are obviously closed and it looks like a decent chunk of our dog park friends have left the city. Understandable, not judging them.

Chelsea and I also decided to ask Marty’s walker to stop coming. We’re both fortunate enough to still be working while isolating, so we’re continuing to pay her (which everyone in our position should be doing btw), so that’s another person we’ve stopped seeing.

But man, New York City.

New York Fucking City.

We just stepped out onto our balcony to cheer on all the healthcare workers. Chelsea banged a pot and I just clapped and yelled, because I’m good at it.

It felt like the whole neighborhood came out. It’s been dead silent all day—minus the passing ambulances screaming through the quiet—and then all of a sudden, little by little, the place turned into this beautiful, cacophonous mess.

People were honking horns, clapping, banging pots and pans, whistling, blowing air horns... it was wild.

And for those two-to-three minutes? It felt like New York City again. Then it hit me—it never stopped being New York City.

Fuck you, COVID19.