tappity tap
i have a subwoofer under my bed that's gone a little wonky. i didn't pack it well enough for summer storage and i also accidently kick it too often. the connection at the back comes loose and no matter how low i turn down the volume the noise vibrates through my entire room, and I'm sure, through the walls and into my neighbours', where I picture them wondering, "what the FUCK is she doing?". i have a record player next to my bed with no connection to the speakers. what's even better by far though, is that i have no records. one day i will. i have a few at home, but i figure the whole thing of catching up on a half century of lost technology is a slow investment. lately, i've been reading a lot about teeth, even more though i've been reading about hands. i've been reading a lot about hands. i've been going to a lot of zoos, both for work and for pleasure. my dad came in town over spring break and stayed with my sister and will, and while the two were at work, he and i spent the days at museums that i'd never gotten the chance to go to. we stopped in the park and looked at the skyline, and i took a picture of him there. he took lots of pictures of me at the american museum of natural history. our visit there had been my third within a month.
one of my best "new york moments" i think, was early in the morning on the way back from JFK after a red-eye from my sister's bachelorette party in las vegas (doesn't that already sound good?). i was carrying the world's most cumbersome, medium-sized paisley suitcase that my aunt had given me when i visited her in mexico once, because she had bought me too much clothing. i think it used to be my grandfather's. i smelled absolutely awful. my sister wanted to go to las vegas, not to gamble, but to enjoy the ambience of the perversity, the nice pools, and go to non-new york clubs. unfortunately, it was cold and cloudy the whole weekend, and we did not get the tans for which we planned, and were forced to get spray tans the sunday before we left. so the whole trip back to class, i smelled like ass. i blundered through the tunnels in penn station with the paisley suitcase, very smelly, very tired, trying to make a 10 am class, and listened to mrs. robinson by simon and garfunkel.
one of my best "new york moments" i think, was early in the morning on the way back from JFK after a red-eye from my sister's bachelorette party in las vegas (doesn't that already sound good?). i was carrying the world's most cumbersome, medium-sized paisley suitcase that my aunt had given me when i visited her in mexico once, because she had bought me too much clothing. i think it used to be my grandfather's. i smelled absolutely awful. my sister wanted to go to las vegas, not to gamble, but to enjoy the ambience of the perversity, the nice pools, and go to non-new york clubs. unfortunately, it was cold and cloudy the whole weekend, and we did not get the tans for which we planned, and were forced to get spray tans the sunday before we left. so the whole trip back to class, i smelled like ass. i blundered through the tunnels in penn station with the paisley suitcase, very smelly, very tired, trying to make a 10 am class, and listened to mrs. robinson by simon and garfunkel.