I just wanted to be alone. It takes practice, like anything these days. So I sat in Grand Central with a sandwich and a magazine alone. The people walked by in a rushed daze and they did not look at me because I was alone. I walked down Madison Avenue with a milkshake and the bus did not stop for me because it went up and I went down and, I knew, because I was alone. Then, listen, in the park, a light breeze turned my pages while I was alone. I was making progress. John Scofield happened to play guitar and the crowd nodded along pleasantly and I sat against the fence because I was alone and because I wanted to be. That’s what I reminded myself, placing my magazine back in my bag, tucking my hair behind my ear. That’s what I had wanted.
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