The absolute truth of the matter is that someone, somewhere started off a chain reaction of unrequited love. And so it goes, on and on down the line, passed on like deformed DNA, and I am just one link in that long, replicated sequence. It’s chemistry or it’s music. It’s a sad, rotten dirge—you and me are syncopated eighth notes hanging off the measure. You and me are pratically a Smiths song.
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