This is New York City
NYC consists of too much work and too many weird people. It might just be the change of seasons, but I'm starting to like it again. Dusk on a rainy evening in the city is absolutely beautiful.
I am on my seventh straight day of work. I worked 12 hours yesterday, and have at least a few more hours to go today. I don't mind working the occasional weekend, so much as I'm bummed out that I had to miss a friend's end of the summer pool party is Westchester today. I'm not complaining, really, since this job allows me the financial freedom to compete internationally and also gives me the time off to do it.
The NYC STORY OF THE NIGHT goes to......an off-duty drag queen eating barbecue ribs. A large black man sat down across from me on the train last night, wearing a baseball cap, a black and orange t-shirt, camoflage pants, and bright white sneakers. He was also wearing fake eyelashes and more makeup than I own. His eyes were gorgeous. To cap off the display, however, he spent forty blocks tearing into a rack of barbecue ribs, dabbing ever so gently at his lips with a paper napkin, as needed. I very much appreciate gender ambiguity, but I saw more of it at Smith than I do in NYC.
I am on my seventh straight day of work. I worked 12 hours yesterday, and have at least a few more hours to go today. I don't mind working the occasional weekend, so much as I'm bummed out that I had to miss a friend's end of the summer pool party is Westchester today. I'm not complaining, really, since this job allows me the financial freedom to compete internationally and also gives me the time off to do it.
The NYC STORY OF THE NIGHT goes to......an off-duty drag queen eating barbecue ribs. A large black man sat down across from me on the train last night, wearing a baseball cap, a black and orange t-shirt, camoflage pants, and bright white sneakers. He was also wearing fake eyelashes and more makeup than I own. His eyes were gorgeous. To cap off the display, however, he spent forty blocks tearing into a rack of barbecue ribs, dabbing ever so gently at his lips with a paper napkin, as needed. I very much appreciate gender ambiguity, but I saw more of it at Smith than I do in NYC.