Doing forward rolls down Avenue A


Being an adult sucks sometimes and it hurts. I find myself simultaneously wishing I was different and loving me for who I am. How does that make sense?

Last night, while my parents were watching Arno, I went to Metrotown Center, bought myself a snack sized Oreo McFlurry, stood on the second floor of an atrium and just people watched for a few minutes. If I'm honest, I think I wanted a more profound experience than I got. Sweet treats are yummy, that was about it. No-one has a profound experience while eating a McDonald's product. That's the better lesson, and probably one that isn't needed to be experienced in person to fully grasp. I've done the hard work for you, people.



We only live in, and can only ever experience, the present moment. But the arc of a life is a long time.

I want to be penetrated.

Not like that (but then again who knows, the arc of a life is long...). What I mean is I think I've always kinda been, and still want to be, a New Yorker:

"But you know what's the most wonderful thing about New York? It's where everyone comes to get fucked. It's one of the last places where people are still willing to bend over to let in the new. And the old. New Yorkers are, uh, permeable. You know what I mean?"

You know what I mean? No, probably not. I'm mixing my metaphors here.

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