Peter brought a gym bag full of marinating meat to work. We threw all the chicken and ribs on Shaina’s rooftop grill and made him cook the chicken extra long so we didn’t develop some sort of gym-bag poisening. Plus, crispy chicken is delicious. We drank vodka and beer and went inside when it started to rain. Peter played saxaphone, Angela piana, Shaina drums. The rain let up and we took cabs toward the Lorimer stop. I left me copy of Infinite Jest in the cab. I screamed at Peter and took the subway home. Now I’ll never finish the book. In other news, my arm pain has since ceased.
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