My pope jope:
instead of saying "is the pope catholic?" (in response to someone asking me an obvious question.) I am going to say: "is the pope dead?"
don't you think his death was such a wish-wash, that maybe he will take on the assumption like elvis?
like: oh I saw the pope the other day at better burger getting air baked fries.
I love this picture of Leyla. Hmm. I don't think I took this one. buts its on my camera.
wow. sometimes I walk around new york and I am like kind of floating because I don't really believe that I am leaving.
the only time I know I am leaving is after taking the subway ANYWHERE. I get out of the stinky, sweaty car - run up the stairs holding my breath all the way and gulp in the fresh air to exclaim "OHHHH GOD!!!"
The subway air was suffocating my poor spirit. I could feel it in my pores & taste it on my buds.
So I am taking cabs this week. last night I went to a birthday party. 79 to 18. 14 dollars. no joke. I'm goin out in style.
I will be living in California next week at this time. doesn't that seem so fake? "California Max". Sometimes its more like a joke, right?
Sometimes I worry that they might not be as "serious" and "gloomy" as we are in NYC. We are a serious people. We are dark. I fear that all of the patchouli & "lets look towards the sun" stuff might wear thin. Well not "wear thin" but I fear I am not going to take it seriously. like at first I will laugh about it and be like "wow thatís nuts!" but then I will want them to laugh about it too -and once they don't start laughing, and keep doing the patchouli thing - I will be like "oh shit."
and thatís why I was placed in apartment number 22. According to my Reformed Deadhead Landlord on Larkin, he placed me in 22, because a girl from Brooklyn is in 23.
I already think she wears black and has dark hair. its going to be funny to meet a blonde bombshell.
I hope she has a jewish mother that visits often. Thatís the most I can hope for. But if she moved west, chances are she is from a broken home.
Its funny when people start reciting Beastie Boy lyrics together. We all know them. People in Atlanta say "party people going places on the D train." and they don't even have a D train. Or is it G train, because we don't really have a D train either. or maybe its Mike D talking about you know, his "d-train" like "if I ate spinach I'd be called Spinach D." type thing. Anyway after a Beastie Boys rant - I am always shocked by who knows what song, and then I sit there the next day wondering when people learned the lyrics to 3-minute rule. I like to know when people learn lyrics and why. Why 3-minute rule? How old were you? 15?
the age range at my going away party was 8 months to 77 years. Is that a sign of success? or is a successful party the fact that I was able to pretend like I was in college again = dancing to the pixies at this place that everyone called "the G-spot". I'd say that was the kicker.
Tonight at Swatters Birthday, I would like to demand a little Interpol dancing, and I would like to suggest we move from Pauls Boutique to Ill Communications.
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