On New York
A few good-timey stories:
1. I was fined $50 for lying down in a subway, an incident report filed at 5:05 AM. I have a court date for March 17th in Manhattan...when the police came on the subway I would have been worried but I was literally too busy thinking there was no way I'd done anything.
2. I left my wallet in an upper-west side bar nicknamed The Abbey one Saturday night. An hour later I realized my wallet was gone, and while resigned to figuring it was gone I figured it would be good to check out where I had gone. Sure enough, there it was on the bar exactly where I'd left it.
3. Toronto is nothing, in terms of cities. New Yorkers seem happy with how their place is a tourist trap; I can't imagine living there are not being endlessly irritated by the constant stream of uninitiated.
4. Staten Island is the greatest. One time I was going to a party there from Manhattan so I had to take a ferry then a bus then walk and it was so not NYC and then I wrote a story about it.
5. I'll be a stock broker and I'll get me a wife, are you living in the same society I am? Tonight they left me to take a cab because they chose to walk despite the storm...have they lost their obsession with radical Islam? Strings are a girl's best friends; they can be spatially extended yet explained within the context of quantum mechanics, I miss you string theory. I was born in an unremarkable birth with a white hospital room and white sheets and they brightest thing I wore was grey and it still stands only today it says Sleepwear on it but I'm as dead as I was then, I'm reading too much Sylvia Plath, I'm listening to too much early Manic Street Preachers, I'm looking up to them; I'm viewing their deaths as admirable and I'm twenty-two years olds, I'm too old to not be responsible for myself and that makes my resolve more exact it's a brick wall it's a lead plate it's rejection it's friends telling me about rejection. When I was a teenager I never cried, now I cry thinking about my mom, I cry visiting ground zero, I cry over mice fed to snakes, I cry about all past mass extinctions except this current one.
hey I'm just a wannabe drunk hey Mike I'm not a leader hey Kit I'm not a lover hey Bonnie I'm not a good friend. Ask someone who knows better, I've forgotten what concrete ability feels like.
1. I was fined $50 for lying down in a subway, an incident report filed at 5:05 AM. I have a court date for March 17th in Manhattan...when the police came on the subway I would have been worried but I was literally too busy thinking there was no way I'd done anything.
2. I left my wallet in an upper-west side bar nicknamed The Abbey one Saturday night. An hour later I realized my wallet was gone, and while resigned to figuring it was gone I figured it would be good to check out where I had gone. Sure enough, there it was on the bar exactly where I'd left it.
3. Toronto is nothing, in terms of cities. New Yorkers seem happy with how their place is a tourist trap; I can't imagine living there are not being endlessly irritated by the constant stream of uninitiated.
4. Staten Island is the greatest. One time I was going to a party there from Manhattan so I had to take a ferry then a bus then walk and it was so not NYC and then I wrote a story about it.
5. I'll be a stock broker and I'll get me a wife, are you living in the same society I am? Tonight they left me to take a cab because they chose to walk despite the storm...have they lost their obsession with radical Islam? Strings are a girl's best friends; they can be spatially extended yet explained within the context of quantum mechanics, I miss you string theory. I was born in an unremarkable birth with a white hospital room and white sheets and they brightest thing I wore was grey and it still stands only today it says Sleepwear on it but I'm as dead as I was then, I'm reading too much Sylvia Plath, I'm listening to too much early Manic Street Preachers, I'm looking up to them; I'm viewing their deaths as admirable and I'm twenty-two years olds, I'm too old to not be responsible for myself and that makes my resolve more exact it's a brick wall it's a lead plate it's rejection it's friends telling me about rejection. When I was a teenager I never cried, now I cry thinking about my mom, I cry visiting ground zero, I cry over mice fed to snakes, I cry about all past mass extinctions except this current one.
hey I'm just a wannabe drunk hey Mike I'm not a leader hey Kit I'm not a lover hey Bonnie I'm not a good friend. Ask someone who knows better, I've forgotten what concrete ability feels like.
posted by Minimalism Fanaticism at 12:15 AM
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