If I drink one more cup of tea my eyes, I swear, will sweat with it. Black tea, chamomile, honeyed tea, peppermint. I’ve been sick for almost a week and in total denial. I wake up, throw clothes on, and cough myself back under the covers like a tape in reverse. I try to work from home and end up falling asleep in odd positions. Let’s just say I have keyboard burn on my neck. Let’s just say that I’ve been in bed all week and I can’t write a single fucking word that sounds anything like I like to sound like. See—even that sounds bad. If it’s mental, it’s mental. But right now it’s bronchitis and I need to make more tea.
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