After two scotch and sodas with work people and the longest commute back uptown in my life, I had a bowl of Chef Boyardee, took a hot shower, and passed out stark naked in bed at 8pm. I woke up at 11. I can do this. I can pick myself up and go meet everyone. I can slick on some eyeliner. I can make it happen. But my bed is warm and I’m a tired, groggy, thirsty hot mess. And, yeah, I forgot how much I love sleeping in the nude.
Subway MapSubway Philosophy is about New York, culture, sex, publishing, memories, alcohol, or a combination of the above. Originally taken from drunken musings on the subway, it has evolved into something extraordinarily similar to most young blogs: which is to say, redundant, romantic, and woefully introspective.
Current Subway ReadingWhite Teeth