Rx for fake writer action

The L Magazine identifies six NYC bars where you might get lucky if you claim to be a writer.

Can’t vouch for the other suggestions, but I do know a guy who enjoys perving on young White Horse Tavern tourists. This is a precise codification of his strategy:

Sure, it’s filled with hedge fund frat boys, most of whom think Dylan Thomas is a catching prospect in the Yankees farm system, but every now and then, a starry-eyed “literary” tourist will happen by, looking for a little magic. Be that magic, be the romantic poet, get laid.

Don’t forget to carry a volume of Pablo Neruda’s saddest works, a small notebook, and a pack of cigarettes to pluck at mournfully. (Image of Dylan Thomas at the bar taken from PBS.)


You might want to subscribe to my free Substack newsletter, Ancestor Trouble, if the name makes intuitive sense to you.