woes and tomorrows
from where i live now, i can hear the subway roll across the bridge at regular intervals. i'm tired of writing, tired of walking, tired of playing, tired of lifting, tired of cars and trains, tired of sore muscles, tired of not sleeping, tired of not brushing my teeth and tired of sleeping in random places. but there's a kitchen that styas open all night, there are new niches to be carved, new fans to make, new (mis)adventures to be had, more things to write, more things to do. somebody once suggested that the meaning of life is 'what do i do next?' if that's true, then i've got a list of meaning eight thousand miles long.