It wasn’t windy out at all. That’s what we noticed first, that it was so still, and the streets were empty enough for Avenue B to not look quite right. The garbage lining the street seemed off. It didn’t smell, for one thing. And a young woman sat on a stoop with her cellphone pressed into her neck, crying. We walked by her and it grew too quiet. It all felt negative, like what New York would feel like if the weather was turned off, or if some sad movie producer tried to reenact Manhattan on an LA sound stage.
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