Some days when I am the unfortunate patron in a 7-11 or other convenience store, the pangs of holy fuck I am WAY behind enemy lines claw at my innards & I miss the magic of NYC & even more so the subway.
There, I fade into the nothingness, am able to be a silent or vocal observer/participant depending on given situation & just absorb the "what the fuck" of the moment. Here in NJ, S.O.Sing in a sea of Old Navy connoisseurs, horrific perfume choices, juxtaposed between heavily laden sweatsuit customers doesn't make for a very diverse, inviting environment for an arrogant douche like me.
So here's to you NY. You weird batch of fucks that I hold near and dear to me heart. Remain in that cut & keep it real.
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