I may be no genius, but at least I live in Arendt-stabilized apartment

So I went to the Indecision reading at Book Court after all. The book seems amusing enough, and apparently takes place on Chambers Street. I ended up buying the Hannah Arendt Reader, not Indecision, figuring if the Indecision bug bites, I can always go to the Strand. My decisiveness was short-lived, however, as I showed my boyfriend a nearby cafe ("Bar Tabac") then waffled about it (too hipster? too phonily Francophilic?) just long enough to make it to a Flatbush Avenue sushi place (oxymoron? perhaps, but I haven't keeled over yet) before it closed.

Let me say this: Hannah Arendt was super-cool. I would venture to say she might even beat Ed Koch in the smart Ashkenazi Jew department. Reading Arendt, or just reading about her, is the intellectual equivalent of seeing Amanda Peet at the City Bakery--why can't that be me? If there is, somewhere, an individual who thinks like Arendt, looks like Peet, and, say, is close friends with and thus gets free clothing from Agnes B. of agnes b., then the world is unfair, but at least I'd have my role models all rolled up into one.