i feel that i should come out about this. i mean, i know i'm not normal already. i have unusual... feelings... some would say misdirected, even perverse. there's a form you fill out when you come into the states that asks if you are here intending to commit moral turpitude. i don't know. does falling in love with a city count? am i gonna get deported?
i have to get the hell out of new york before we end up in a destructive long-term relationship. i am too commitment-phobic to disappear into its humid womb for the rest of my life. the other day when i was working my spot in washington square park, listening to the buskers and the silly conversations of new yorkers, a wingnut beside me said to himself 'the thing about new york city, kid, is it could be the last time you'll ever be seen again.'
i am not supposed to like the united states. i am reserving my judgement until i've seen more than this dirty old town. it is, however, very easy to live in the cracks here. that capitalism has these wide accomodations is either neutralising us or a sign that it will fall. i choose to believe the latter, but then, i always was a lifestylist.
what i've been doing: playing in empty buildings, telling fortunes, playing the fiddle, making friends, going on bike missions, swimming in the free pool, threatening to swim in the east river, actually swimming in the atlantic at rockaway beach, getting ramones songs stuck in my head, drinking beer, talking my way in to a dr seuss installation at the children's museum, climbing on roofs, being inspired to ride trains, talking politics, meeting kooky people randomly, reading poems in lame little gatherings, distributing zines, hanging out with dogs, hanging out in parks, complaining about the heat, overstaying my welcome at the freestore...
all good things must come to an end. i'm off to philly today, where i will probably get mugged and drink more beer. whatever.
i have to get the hell out of new york before we end up in a destructive long-term relationship. i am too commitment-phobic to disappear into its humid womb for the rest of my life. the other day when i was working my spot in washington square park, listening to the buskers and the silly conversations of new yorkers, a wingnut beside me said to himself 'the thing about new york city, kid, is it could be the last time you'll ever be seen again.'
i am not supposed to like the united states. i am reserving my judgement until i've seen more than this dirty old town. it is, however, very easy to live in the cracks here. that capitalism has these wide accomodations is either neutralising us or a sign that it will fall. i choose to believe the latter, but then, i always was a lifestylist.
what i've been doing: playing in empty buildings, telling fortunes, playing the fiddle, making friends, going on bike missions, swimming in the free pool, threatening to swim in the east river, actually swimming in the atlantic at rockaway beach, getting ramones songs stuck in my head, drinking beer, talking my way in to a dr seuss installation at the children's museum, climbing on roofs, being inspired to ride trains, talking politics, meeting kooky people randomly, reading poems in lame little gatherings, distributing zines, hanging out with dogs, hanging out in parks, complaining about the heat, overstaying my welcome at the freestore...
all good things must come to an end. i'm off to philly today, where i will probably get mugged and drink more beer. whatever.
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