OK, it's cramped. You'll only get a seat by sheer aggression, and an electrical outlet by the grace of God. You're guaranteed to bump your neighbor's elbow or accidentally whack her with your shoulder bag. But in the rustic, Czech-flavored café and art gallery Doma, the music's always low and never obnoxiously "lite." They place serves tasty, inexpensive all-day fare, and no one ever chases you out. Despite the high number of hip, attractive patrons, everyone quietly focuses on writing their book, dissertation, or (in the case of frequent visitor John Cameron Mitchell) screenplay. The social interactions get more relaxed the longer you stay. Plus Doma's huge windows, overlooking the quaint bustle of Seventh Avenue South and Perry Street, make you feel as if writing doesn't have to mean missing the day after all.