I’ve been in a funk lately. Not a real funk per se, but the kind that makes taking the thoughts in my head and turning them into words on paper feel impossible. I write posts for places I am responsible for updating, respond to correspondence on as as-needed basis and throw my hands up at …
She’s a young girl
window.fbAsyncInit = function() { FB.init({appId: “”, status: true, cookie: true, xfbml: true}); }; (function() { var e = document.createElement(“script”); e.async = true; e.src = document.location.protocol + “//connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js”; document.getElementById(“fb-root”).appendChild(e); }());
When you’re strange
It’s funny what’s come to constitute as “hanging out” in my circle of friends. What it really means interacting by way of sitting in the same room and utilizing the same WiFi connection while functioning completely independently of each other. We were in the midst of smoking a blunt when he paused, looked at me …
Just a minute #3
There’s other “just a minute” entries, if you’re bored. ***** What are you reading? Your outfit is completely over the top but the title of the book you’ve so carefully placed spine-out on the table catches my eye. Amazon reveals all; turns out that Anti-Oedipus is not a telling statement about your sexual desires. Too …
Something about Indiana
Three hours into my second day of driving the last tangible proof of my existence to New York, things deviated from my carefully laid out plan–as they’re supposed to when you’re driving long distances, or so I’ve been told. Heavy rainfall started when crossing the Indiana state line and refused to let up… until 20 …
Come to me, my little white kitty
After trying unsuccessfully to locate the stop for the 2 that seems to only have a 1 train arriving, I walked to 14th because I’m in no mood to wait for trains that aren’t coming two weekend in a row. There’s twenty minutes to kill before my 4am ride back to Brooklyn. My night involved …
Just a minute #2
“More of this?” you say. Yes my friends, more of this. ***** Boarding the L headed for Manhattan the smell of one particular passenger doesn’t overtake me until after I seat myself across from him. He has an entire bench to himself and no one is complaining. Beat up white sneakers under his seat, backpack-turned-pillow …