it's been a good 2.5 years or so, but i think i've had enough of this place.
maybe i'll be back, maybe not.
if you're supposed to find me, you'll be able to.
I turned 25.
I thought maybe the quarter century mark would be followed with some other remarkable event. Perhaps a mental breakdown, or a moment of total clarity. Maybe I would suddenly become wiser, more grounded, more self-actualized.
I'm not sure if that's happened or not, unless those changes would be signaled by the pile of human diarrhoea I found in the subway station today.
So far, 25 seems to be business as usual. My life is just as manic as ever, filled with madcap misadventure and a crazy characters, and that's how I like it. I can't help it.
dear new york,
the following things are gross to do in public. especially on the subway. when i can see you. or smell you:
- eat. this means anything. smacking your lips while you eat chinese food makes me want to smack you in your face. listening to you eat yogurt while we're sitting thisclose on the morning f train makes me want to die.
- touch me with your frizzy hair. gross. reign that shit in, ladies. hair tie. headband. babushka. i don't care.
- listen to your crappy crappy music as loud as you can. chances are, everyone around you has something better to think or read or listen to than your Ja Rule mixtape.
- lean on the seat next to the doorway. it's not really a seat so much as it is a shield protecting those seated from your butt in their face. so stop leaning back against it, i don't want my sweet baby forehead touching your butt. not in public.
- barf. i don't know how much money the mta has spent on ads telling you not to get on the train if you're sick, but it's got to be a lot. still, i've seen a good number of people puke up cornflakes on the subway platform. funny? yes. gross? that too.
thanks so much, i look forward to seeing you monday-friday at 8 am and 6 pm.
love,
me
