Dailies

9.26.12

[on the L ]

As the subway forces its sinuous course through the darkness of the underground, grips tighten, joints lock, and muscles tense in defense of unpredictable swerves, with every turn a thrust that jerks to either side . You feel like you’re being fucked. And in a lot of ways you are.

9.24.12

[A married couple I saw at Foodtown, Brooklyn, NY]

They don’t converse as the friends they were, or the lovers and life partners they became, but rather as two individuals who’ve resorted to negotiate the terms of their existence as a pair. Somewhere between themselves they lost each other.

9.15.12

[Returning to my apartment on the L train late at night]

The meth head sitting next to me on the subway was thumbing through pages of the dictionary on her iPad until her sparkled acrylic nail paused, momentarily settling on the word “predictable.”

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