Prophecy- Part I
A lot of people run to the city to do something or be something. I wasn't one of them. I wasn't running to at all, I was running from and that makes a big difference. I was running from a small town and small minds, both perpetually buried in the clinical snows of Northern NY. Thinking back the thing I remember most about that place is the snow. There were summers of course, but for me that part of the world is eternally cloaked in snow, white, lustrous, luminous and divinely pure albeit boring.
People here in the city make a big deal about boroughs or some crap like that. Apparently the minor subdivisions of the city matter, I thought it was one big unit initially, but no. To most New Yorkers the city only means Manhattan, not the rest of the city, despite the fact that the rest of the city is technically part of the city. You see how much sense their arguments make?
I still fucking say I moved to the city.
"Deah" said the cash register lady in front of me in a heavy New York accent, "you live in the Bronx hun, you don't live in the city yet." Her long nails clack against the register button keys. I'm in no mood for her Ramen-haired antics today, but I don't say anything. I'm a good boy. I get my change back for my 1.69$ outrageously expensive Diet Dr. Pepper. I don't plan to get fat on city food either.
I clamp my teeth down on each other like some bad guy TV character for effect (thought no one notices nor do I expect them to), and I think to myself "I have my motherfucking pride! I moved to the city- period, the end."
People here in the city make a big deal about boroughs or some crap like that. Apparently the minor subdivisions of the city matter, I thought it was one big unit initially, but no. To most New Yorkers the city only means Manhattan, not the rest of the city, despite the fact that the rest of the city is technically part of the city. You see how much sense their arguments make?
I still fucking say I moved to the city.
"Deah" said the cash register lady in front of me in a heavy New York accent, "you live in the Bronx hun, you don't live in the city yet." Her long nails clack against the register button keys. I'm in no mood for her Ramen-haired antics today, but I don't say anything. I'm a good boy. I get my change back for my 1.69$ outrageously expensive Diet Dr. Pepper. I don't plan to get fat on city food either.
I clamp my teeth down on each other like some bad guy TV character for effect (thought no one notices nor do I expect them to), and I think to myself "I have my motherfucking pride! I moved to the city- period, the end."