boyz on the train: coffee & mobiles
clooney & crabs: the two c's.
drink friends.
It's nice to be busy at work, hey? Until you realize that you're not going to accomplish everything you'd like to. I usually attempt to fight the tendency to get too wrapped up in things, but I suppose that's who I am. I like to go knee deep, take care and give those close something to be appreciated. I eventually threw in the towel, as I knew that Pilgrim would be desperate for a walk. I stepped on the N train. Fell asleep while rereading The Moviegoer (it's offering me an understanding, a perspective of what happened). I jolted awake. Back to the words: they blurred.
Atlantic Avenue/Pacific St: I stepped onto the platform. I love this connection. It's who I am (Atlantic) and who I used to be (Pacific). Denizens lingered in the open doors of an M train. I entered. Sat. This train has been waiting for a while. A passenger needs medical assistance. We're told over and over. It's an automated announcement. I consider this information as a prerecorded thing. Then a live voice. Get on the next express to 36th, transfer to the next Brooklyn bound.
No.
I'm not going to do that.
I rise above ground. This is my last commute to Park Slope. I'm walking home from Downtown Brooklyn. Taking in the graffiti, the people. A man looks to me pensively. A few guys check out my boots and smile. I glance to my phone several times. Take some mobile uploads (above). Pick up the dog, walk him to NYC pet for kibble and treats. I feel like I should tell the owner that I'm moving, that's why he won't see us. Just like I feel like I should tell my Chinese launder, a few delivery guys, the Korean grocers and my bartenders. Some already know.
Atlantic Avenue/Pacific St: I stepped onto the platform. I love this connection. It's who I am (Atlantic) and who I used to be (Pacific). Denizens lingered in the open doors of an M train. I entered. Sat. This train has been waiting for a while. A passenger needs medical assistance. We're told over and over. It's an automated announcement. I consider this information as a prerecorded thing. Then a live voice. Get on the next express to 36th, transfer to the next Brooklyn bound.
No.
I'm not going to do that.
I rise above ground. This is my last commute to Park Slope. I'm walking home from Downtown Brooklyn. Taking in the graffiti, the people. A man looks to me pensively. A few guys check out my boots and smile. I glance to my phone several times. Take some mobile uploads (above). Pick up the dog, walk him to NYC pet for kibble and treats. I feel like I should tell the owner that I'm moving, that's why he won't see us. Just like I feel like I should tell my Chinese launder, a few delivery guys, the Korean grocers and my bartenders. Some already know.
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