There is nowhere to go but up, which isn’t true, especially when you consider gravity and the six feet they like to bury you under. I don’t need to get up, anyway. I’d like to lie here in bed with you. I’d like to get high, sure, but then I just want to put my head on your soft shoulderblade. Away we go, horizontal and stopped right here, like a frozen bird or a broken scale.
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