Lies. Everyone I know is at work right now. And i'm 3 hours from the city that holds my heart. And my propensity to filter absolute trite bullshit.
Why do we love the crushing population of new York? Why do we adore walking into bars where nobody knows our names? The cheers of this world is niagra bar in the east village. 100% accessible by drunk with a photo booth to capture the revelr and a different bartender every night so you don't have anyone keeping tabs on you.
I'm too old for this. I want the girl I miss to be the girl i'm with.
I want the beer cooler to fill itself. I want to nap and wake up younger. How long does it take to grow happy? I'm beginning to think it takes a quadratic and a regression and nothing will ever be perfect.
My line of best fit will be made out of microns and cinnamon and Ralph Lauren polo sport. And it'll be awesome. I'll figure it out when I sober up. Oh how blogging is far more interesting when I can blog remotely. Drunk. On fire island. While the rest of the suits toil away in the concrete cubicles.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment