My neighbor Rob Buchanan forwarded the following to me, I guess in attempt to make me barf. It’s from a handout for DKLB BKLN, a new condo highrise in our neighborhood. Honestly, I’d try to parody the prose but I’m just not that good:

He likes waking up with the sun streaming through his window. He turns over–Sunny’s still asleep. God, she’s beautiful. He throws on a t-shirt, sweats, and steps out on DeKalb–he’s at the crossroads of Fort Greene’s multicultural, multiethnic, multilingual, multistatus world and that’s what he thrives on, the life. He does a few stretches, then starts running. Give him something hard to listen to, something fresh. Runs to the park and does some laps. Finishes with a dash up the steps to the monument. Breathes. He loves this view. Loves where he lives.  Brooklyn’s a city in motion, pulsing, alive. He looks out over the park and thinks about what he has to do that day. He’s in control of his time, his space, his environment. And he likes it that way.

Back home, he rouses Sunny and they hit the Greenmarket. They pick up some vegetables and find fresh fish and flowers. They like getting there early when the local chefs are shopping too. There’s the chef from General Greene. Giles nods. The chef smiles back. They know each other. Back home, Sunny heads to the gym for a yoga class. Giles checks emails. He’s been waiting for a sound clip from a DJ in Durban. There’s this new South African group he’s hoping to book. Soweto kids. Cool, it’s there. He listens. Their sound is fresh, alive–they have something to say. He heads to Tillie’s. Coffee, black. A muffin. He talks to Mavis, the Pratt student with purple hair. They dish about the art on the wall. She’s smart, gorgeous, and knows what she’s talking about. Over his coffee, he jots down notes, things he’s gotta do. Book that band for one. Plus, he has something waiting for him at UrbanGlass. A vase he had blown for Sunny’s birthday. He finishes breakfast and heads back up DeKalb.

This threatens to be the first installment of the on-going adventures of Giles “Goat Boy,” Fort Greene arriviste and all-around monied hipster. His girlfriend is beautiful. His iPod is stocked with hard music, perfect for those runs around the park. He is friends with chefs and coffee shop waitresses alike. He listens to kids from Soweto.

But hear his song, and deconstruct for a minute the meaning of the word “multistatus,” one of the multi-adjectives he uses to describe our neighborhood. Does that mean Giles, who just overpaid for a condo on what is actually the Flatbush Avenue Extension (hard to romanticize that name), rubs shoulders with the dealers from the Walt Whitman projects? Would they take his iPhone from if he ran at night? And would he still like it that way?

Discuss among yourselves.