We sit in the bath tub. He, actually, sits in the bath tub. I sit on it. He drinks a cup of whiskey and I thumb through a magazine. I flick cold water from the sink at his steaming legs. I pour shampoo on his head and wash his hair, my fingers massaging his scalp. I threaten to cut it. I always threaten to cut it. The water drains. He is drinking whiskey and shampoo foam. He doesn’t mind at all.
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