Monday, March 16, 2009
Growing up in the white-collar suburbs we always used to throw around the term " He's on crack!" or " What are you- on crack or something?" But now, being in big bad New York City I really do see real live people actually on crack occasionally. This particular woman this morning has wild wild curly black hair, all messy and crazy. She is muttering to herself.
Her eyes have a dull, glazed over stare as we roll along downtown. It is a stare that I really cannot describe other than "the crack stare."
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The area around the Port Authority is one of my least favorite parts of the city. It is located close enough to
From the ramp where the 20T deposits me every morning I am treated to a view consisting of a crumbling building that calls itself a Baptist Church and the World of DVD Shop. “Female Peep Show! Male Peep Show!” I didn’t even know that was allowed anymore. It is a glimpse of a bygone era of
The air is tinged with the scent of stale donuts and pollution.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I guess awkward stranger body to body contact is something you just have to get used to commuting with the masses into a place like Manhattan every morning.
I close my eyes and attempt to sleep, trying to pretend the offending leg is just my boyfriend’s or something along those lines….
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Oh how I do wish how beige-colored denim would come back in style! I fully expect to be alone in this opinion.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
You sure can’t beat that view of the twinkling Manhattan skyline as we emerge from the depths of the Lincoln Tunnel though. A sign on the highway overpass reads “Welcome to North New Jersey- the Embroidery Capital of the World ."
Oh Jersey. Ever the optimist.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
From what I can make out is that "her life sucks". Why does every thing go wrong? Won’t no one help her? Why will nobody help her? She doesn’t care about the new year because she probably won’t even live until the new year. (It is February). She is obviously borderline insane and very very scary. She sits down right next me. There is nothing I can do, no place I can go. The car is packed. I don't want to get up because she would obviously know it is because of her. I have learned that it is best not to insult the mentally ill.
She continues to carry on and then starts to touch my arm. Yes, she touches me.
Miss, miss excuse me miss.
I freeze. I want to make a run for it but really there is no place to go and and I don’t want to piss her off and have her come after me. She looks me right in the eyes and is about to say more. I brace myself.
Suddenly, an almost as crazy homeless guy comes through the car ranting about something. He is nearly as bad as this girl. She is distracted by him for a moment and fortunately takes her attentions off of me.
At the next stop some people get off and I move over to the back of the car. Safe. However Wailing Girl now gets up and starts making her way toward me, ranting about her temper. Am I going to be knifed on the E train at 5:30pm in front of all these people? Oh oh oh no. But she simply brushes past me. There is a middle-aged businessman reading the Wall Street Journal standing across from me. She shoves him hard. She shoves him again. Then she goes out those doors that separate the cars and into the next one.