Dear Holden and Holly. I saw you studying the bronze sculptures at the 14th st A, C, E, L station yesterday evening and I knew you were getting to know either Chelsea – your new parentally sponsored ‘nabe’ – or the final stop on the amazing and quirky L train which comes from your other possible new stomping grounds; Williamsburg / Bushwick. Your matching all-season itchy and hot ‘look at me’ wool hats tipped me off to your recent arrival to NYC. The massive Nikon 4SXQe977.114 cameras around your chokeable necks also tipped me off. That death-stare I gave you was for real. I hope you enjoy the pussification and feminization of NYC that you are helping progress. Well after all, it’s all about progressive art, music and urban living that you homogenized mother fucking transplants root for all fucking day. I know we’ll meet again. My chances will probably increase if I wait in front of the entrance to the Brooklyn Flea where you will soon discover to be a place to buy bacon flavored guitar picks and eat cage-free pickles. I hope to run into you again soon. If you happen to read this while surfing the web during business hours in a smug, $9.00 a cup North Brooklyn cafe run by bearded, lice hosting Spin Doctor looking mother fuckers - be sure to e-mail me so we can catch up on your progressive and zany Brooklyn staycation.