(no subject)
I miss New York City and my old life. I miss the indian vendors and the punk kids asking for a dime when they obviously don't need it. I miss the subway maps and the hipster kids spinning the Astor Place cube and the sexy barista with maybe one more piercing than he should have, I miss Peter and his huge mustache sweeping the words away from his mouth before I can hear them. I miss proffessor Hatcher and her awesome boots and cool native american style outfits and dreamlike literary analysis. I miss my broken glass minotaur-samurai-fat unicorn. I miss my angsty wrestling surfer lesbian roommate. I miss my money and health and sense of self and self assurance and place in the world. I miss Matt Maggiacomo and the way he would wear sunglasses to the dance club because he thought it made him look cooler. It probably did. I miss Paddy and pot smoking and pot beaching and pot dancing and pot sleeping. I miss Karen Pot Stirrers. I miss Joe and his angsty unintelligible J-scene and wanderings through the City where nothing mattered and we had no money and it was always ok. I miss Komail and the way he made me feel smaller than I was because he was so great. I miss thinking how just by being near him maybe I could absorb some of that, learn something someday. I miss Simon opening champagne bottles with a samurai sword. I miss Cara's laugh, the only laugh I'd ever describe as a peal. I miss stealing funky pink girraffes. If I mentioned everything I missed I'd be here forever and if I didn't mention you don't worry, I've thought of you. There's no good way to end something like this except to say that I want to see everyone very very soon.