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Prestamos, The Bronx

exercises in handstyleErnie Koy Jr. grabs the brass ring: Yeah yeah, I know it’s trendy to blog about the Bronx now but The Publisher– when he’s actually working here & not reviewing books elsewhere– seems willing to indulge a native son; I trust ya’ll can too. It was, as they say, one of those goddamn days: I locked my keys in Mami’s apartment down in Port Morris; all the computer terminals at the Mott Haven branch of the library (E. 140th St is in the house) were either busted or occupied by folks who didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon; & although I could have filed this from the WWIB offices in Gravesend, I had to pgoing downick up my wheels from Mayo, the street mechanic, who was putting a new engine block in the old Toyota pickup I inherited from Aunt Sally back in March. While everybody who is anybody in the blogidad knows there are days you gotta uprock your ebay, sometimes folks need a quicker fix. Note to BZA, when she returns from the campaign trail (photo at right): Uh… I think I know who has your Nana’s old fur (that you left at my house a few years ago.)

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