These nights, it’s a race against the clock: I pop two Tylenol Cold and Sinus PM, close my eyes under the hot water, read until the words all blur together, and slink from the bath tub into bed. I think I’m depressed, but I might be confusing the sinus pressure with a sad mental break. Occam’s razor says I’m being melodramatic. I think Occam’s full of shit.
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