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I made a terrible decision to switch to a train that had stopped running (thanks as always MTA), so now I’m sitting on the ground of the Fulton Avenue station waiting for a 4 train, in incredible humidity, while someone blasts, inexplicably, “Drops of Jupiter” by Train on a boombox.
Realistically, I’ll only be able to sleep about five hours tonight, after three last night.
I spent too much money just on food and drinks tonight — which I do regularly.
I’m acting slightly manic, which tells me that I’m staving off a swing towards melancholy. The city is a giant consumption machine.
Everywhere in Brooklyn, there’s no construction. More people are being lured into the consumption trap, like flies lure onto sweet sticky flypaper.
I need a cold shower.
