crescent

I don’t think I have been this tired in a while. I’m pretty god damned tired. I woke up this morning on Phil’s couch in Manhattan, and now I am home, and I have the windows open and the fan on, and fuck me it’s hot.
I like the city. I am beginning to understand it a little better, I know the lay of the land a little bit, but it’s just so big that I don’t know if I could handle it. there is no personal space on the island, unless you have a lot of money. Phil’s place is legit, but the rent alone would be more than I make in a year. expensive living.

did a lot of walking, not as much as I usually do, but a lot. we spent yesterday afternoon at Coney Island, which is pulsating with humanity. teeming with people. overflowing with garbage. covered in graffiti, bumping with hip hop, treaded by bikers, hipsters, dogs. saris, veils, Mexican flags, teenagers, infants, Russians, tattoos, cellulite, hot dogs, cigarette butts.
a barker put a coupon in Phil’s pocket, which almost lead to a fight, but it diffused. we went to a couple of freak shows. saw a handful of midgets and a man with flipper arms, watched him perform a drum solo and sing an Elvis tune.
on the way back, read the sunday op/ed page in the New York Times. I read a lot of newspapers this weekend. torture, torture, and swine flu.

I’d expand, but I’m sleepy. last night, we went to the top of the Empire State Building. “like in ‘Sleepless in Seattle’,” said Josh. “you and Phil are gonna have a moment.” that’s right. just like ‘Sleepless in Seattle’.

the view is wonderful. my camera wasn’t, but that’s alright. just look south from the top.

view

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