[229] 02/13/2022 Monday. Kitchen Microwave. Queens House. Brooklyn, New York. Down in the City again. Took the train down. Which was nice. In a way. Slow as molasses. Plus I had to pack everything I needed into a single duffel bag. Which meant arriving in Times Square basically, technically it is Madison Square Park, but to go from Butthole, Vermont to riding on a train for seven hours and then having to navigate three blocks of tourist throngs of self absorbed fools while lugging 50 lbs of duffel and a bag with two 2 liter Ticklers and nine burritos, it reminded me what it was like commuting in the City. Which is a pain in the ass. And then to be on the subway for an hour, hitting all the hot spots in Manhattan and then the cool Brooklyn crowd all while trying to stay out of peoples way while being a giant lug. Not only that, but for some reason I put on Levi's 501 jeans on today, my Don't Stop Believing shirt with Santy Claus on it, my Australian boots and a Wrangler's snap button brush popper, my beat up Wyoming bucking horse cowboy ball cap, I mean, not only was I giant lug, but I was also a huge hick. I mean, I suppose it was funny, but it was more like, the more things change kind of thing. The less money you have the harder everything is. I am not saying that paying for a $70 dollar train ticket to Manhattan and then taking the subway for an hour so I can fly to Berlin to go to a film festival makes me a poor, but the PSTD of being poor so many decades in the City, how many countless hours on the train with a giant bag of tools, making shit wages for doing work I really didn't care for, and if this was my triumphant return? I mean, no offense Society, but you need to throw better parties.
[229] Screed City
[229] Screed City
[229] Screed City
[229] 02/13/2022 Monday. Kitchen Microwave. Queens House. Brooklyn, New York. Down in the City again. Took the train down. Which was nice. In a way. Slow as molasses. Plus I had to pack everything I needed into a single duffel bag. Which meant arriving in Times Square basically, technically it is Madison Square Park, but to go from Butthole, Vermont to riding on a train for seven hours and then having to navigate three blocks of tourist throngs of self absorbed fools while lugging 50 lbs of duffel and a bag with two 2 liter Ticklers and nine burritos, it reminded me what it was like commuting in the City. Which is a pain in the ass. And then to be on the subway for an hour, hitting all the hot spots in Manhattan and then the cool Brooklyn crowd all while trying to stay out of peoples way while being a giant lug. Not only that, but for some reason I put on Levi's 501 jeans on today, my Don't Stop Believing shirt with Santy Claus on it, my Australian boots and a Wrangler's snap button brush popper, my beat up Wyoming bucking horse cowboy ball cap, I mean, not only was I giant lug, but I was also a huge hick. I mean, I suppose it was funny, but it was more like, the more things change kind of thing. The less money you have the harder everything is. I am not saying that paying for a $70 dollar train ticket to Manhattan and then taking the subway for an hour so I can fly to Berlin to go to a film festival makes me a poor, but the PSTD of being poor so many decades in the City, how many countless hours on the train with a giant bag of tools, making shit wages for doing work I really didn't care for, and if this was my triumphant return? I mean, no offense Society, but you need to throw better parties.