Dead, dying and dripping in vomit.

I haven't been blogging....

Because I haven't been doing anything...

Well besides dying.

*Enter lengthy rant bout how sick I have been* 

Luckily for me I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel...and by that I mean I no longer have a million degree fever, although I do still have this intense, 50 packs of cigarettes a day cough... You know the kind of cough where people wince and look over at you just to check and make sure that your lung didn't come hurtling out of your esophagus....it's honestly a giant party.

But apart from death, life has been tame.....with a side of boob castles...but tame none the less. 

Boob......castle....

Oh wait silly me, something super exciting did happen today.... I stepped in two different piles of vomit on my walk home tonight (aka why couldn't you all just barf into your purse like that strung out blond girl on the N train?) New York on a Saturday night is an ever classy location. A man even ran up behind me to inform me that I had in fact stepped in vomit, as if me yelling for the world to fuck me again wasn't clue enough that I understood what was happening. Actually, I think it is actually programmed deep within us to inform someone whenever you are aware that they in fact have another persons regurgitated lasagna on their person. A fact I learned a few years ago when a friend and I were walking home from the bar and he very gracefully penny boarded back first into a stray pile of chunky street potatoes and a car full of hyped up dudes pulled over to mock his misfortune....to be fair he did just kind of lay there for a minute and splashed about in his puddle of love....he kind of deserved it. 

Speaking of deserving it (boom segway), can we all take a minute to appreciate the fact that my little brother deserves a kick in the nads? Why is that? I hear the crowds bellow....please see below visual representation...

Never have I ever been more disrespected! 

I guess this is probably payback for all those times I used to beat the crap out of him until he told me I was God...and perfect....and beautiful...and....

I pity the man who marries me.

Oh and I cut all my hair off.....

Also, I'm going to really need someone to inform me how to properly face, because I haven't mastered it yet. 

Gratitude.

                      

Sometimes I fall into my own head, it's a scary place to be.

It's filled with a lot of questions.

Is it wrong to feel lousy about your inability to help another in the right way? Is it selfish to take another's genuine struggles and make it about yourself? 

Today a lady came to me with pleading eyes,

I need a job.

She blinked at me, as I waited for her to elaborate. She didn't have a resume, or experience or anything actually, apart from the story of what she once had, memories of a past life in Bangladesh, a dizzyingly long list of dead relatives and desperation. 

Just moments before she appeared, I had been chatting with a 19 year old novice to the world, enthusiastic about her potential. A fresh faced college girl, she was what I needed, I could help her. Yet, this older lady with a broken accent and a disconnect for the position I was trying to fill, nothing.

One needed the job to help support her social life, the other her life. period. 

What do you say?

Sorry mam, I know you are far more qualified in every aspect of being a human, you are probably smarter, kinder and possess more life experience than I ever will, yet, I have a steady paycheck,stability and the power to make or break or break your day. I'm just a kid, yet here we are. 

It made me feel really crappy....

But did I have any right?

I wasn't upset that this lady had hardships, I was upset because I couldn't help, I made her terrible situation about me. 

I thought about her all day, and then as I commuted home another encounter invaded my mind with even more thoughts. 

 It was a million degrees on that platform, I was hungry and pissed and getting increasing frustrated by a constant tapping. As I looked around ready to glare angrily at the tapper, I was met with the image of a blind man and his stick hitting against pillars and concrete. My first thought was fear; seeing this man so close to the train tracks and so surrounded by jerks who aren't afraid of a little bump and grind scared me, yet he didn't seem to have a care in the world so I turned back to the cellphone nestled in my hands,

Is there anything scarier than watching a blind man walk down a subway platform? I tapped out before adding a scared cat emoji and hitting send.

The answer is yes, I'm sure actually being that blind man is far worse. 

Everybody has struggles....some are minor, some are monsters....

My struggles are nothing.

My struggles are mice....

less than mice....

Mealworms.

I need to remember that more often.

Failing, MTA and a dagger tattoo.

Do you ever have one of those days where you tragically fail at all things human and eventually give up and resort to taking photos of other people doing the things you failed at whilst eating handfuls of candy?

No?

Only me?

I'm bad at things, and surprisingly very frightened of ladders.

I learned this today as I stood shaking on the top step, and had sudden flashbacks of my brother falling off an old, rusty, yellow ladder as a kid. It didn't even happen to me but there is something about a chubby ginger falling from great heights (or like the roof of a one story house but I like the drama) that really resinates with you.

Another thing happened today, I met the next love of my life...or I guess re-met?

A couple of times a week, I take the same 5'clock M train home and every single time, I get on at the same exact spot, into the same exact car and ride it to the same exact stop (obviously, because that is where I live?) Sometimes I notice a familiar face of fellow riders who are also creatures of habit and give them the customary wave (in my head....New Yorkers are dicks.) but one particular rider always catches my eye. A tall, lanky guy (I have a type, it happens)with a smattering of tattoos (all traditional style), some lame hipster glasses that I'm really curious if they house a prescription (if they don't I'm immediately turned off....I swear I'm stuck on a constant pendulum of lust or hatred) and always some combination of denim and plaid. I always see him book in hand, note his cuteness and go about scrolling through my phone.

Today though was different, my phone was dead.

When my phone is dead, I like to play a game I call, how long can I stare at this person before they curse me out? I do this purely because I like to study people. I think I was supposed to be an artist, if it wasn't for my lack of art skills of course.My first target was a cute dad type sitting across from me: Swamp green pants, James Potter glasses, an expensive (I'm guessing, what do I know?) watch and a pen and paper in hand scribbling away like a mad man. He looked like a Geoff (G spelling, never a Jeff) and my guess is that he was a professor of sorts, I could have that completely wrong but he had that vibe about him. Every now and then he would look away from his paper in thought, I liked him because in that brief moment his eyes were like windows and it was as if you could physically see his brain whizzing away behind it. Two stops later, he scurried off the train. He was most definitely a scurrier.

Enter love of my life.

I chose him next because I had seen him many times before. In all honestly, I was drawn in by his tattoos, really well done and for some reason I wanted to know all about them, what they meant, if they had any meaning at all. I also liked that he was reading so intently. As the train threw him about his eyes never left the page, I couldn't tell what he was reading and it really bothered me. He was a book curler and he had words in the margins, when I saw that I was sold.

That's when I noticed he was staring back at me, slight smirk that only got smirkier as he saw that I had noticed him staring at me, staring at him,

I had spent so long trying to figure out what the book was I completely forgot about the social awkwardness that comes from staring at people you don't know. Damn it!

I quickly looked away but my peripherals told me he didn't. He instead uncurled his beaten up book and placed it in his backpack, headphones went in and he looked back smirking even more.

I'm sure you could guess what came next....

Of course he *came over, asked for my number and we all lived happily ever after....in love....with cute little tattoo'd babies.

Just kidding, I got off at the next stop. How anticlimactic. He did give me the customary head nod on my way out so I mean, that's love right?

Until next time dagger tat.

Also, I really need to know if your glasses are prescription....it's make or break. If it's simply a uniform, I'm going to cancel the church. Timing is of the essence.

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...

New York in theory is ginormous. Millions of people milling around, never reconnecting, it seems daunting, lonely. But I've found this to not be the case...

I can't seem to go a day without seeing someone I know, or someone I think I know, or a friend of a friend, or that dude I once made out with in the back of Lolita and vaguely recognize. I swear it's the smallest, big city in the world.

Although sometimes, that isn't always a bad thing.

A few weeks ago, there I was casually smushed against the door of the train as it repeatedly jolted against my skull (aka a typical morning), Completely content in my mind. Suddenly I felt a tug on my headphones at the hand of a waspy suit and removed a bud in an act of over-exaggerated annoyance.

"Pardon?"

"What are you listening to?" Confusion. Did this asshole really make me unmangle myself from my stoically perfect don't-fucking-touch-me pose for this? Realization. Oh my god are my headphones not plugged in all the way? Am I that asshole spewing my own music all over the general public! Embarrassment. Am I listening to Disney songs again?

Yes, Yes I was. 

"Uhm...Sleeping Beauty...Once Upon a Dream." 

An Awkward silence (well as silent as the 6 train can possible be) settled over us and after a good ten seconds he smirked,

"That's awesome." Then he left the train.

Cock blocked by Disney. 

Now I didn't plan on seeing this man again so I quickly pushed him out of my mind in a flurry of 456 new MTA riders smashing me further into the door. 

This morning though, he appeared, settling down next to me and tugging on my headphones.

"Another bright dress, another Disney song?" I glanced down, Kanye West. 

"Yep!" 

"Here..." He pushed his phone into my hand with the name Subway Princess all ready for me to tap in my number...

"Smooth."

Within a few minutes he was off bounding up the stairs, and I was back in my mind shuffling shit around.

For now I was a princess, well in this complete strangers phone at least!

Keepin' New York weird.

My ability to get from my work to either a) the bar b) food or c) my bed, is amazing. As soon as I'm out of the building my "don't fuck with my face" is on and my walk becomes more of a light jog. Nothing can sway me from my deep meditation as I brush past doctors ironically on their cigarette breaks, business men walking their pups around the Upper East Side after a long day of stacking their millions and all the various pictures of shocking that suddenly become less shocking after living here for awhile because hey....New York's weird man. 

I thought I had seen/heard it all until today. There I was, jumping down the subway steps wearing my latest in crabby fashions (I wish I was joking....my dress really did have crabs on it....) when a slumping homeless (or at least rather dirty/tired) gentleman locked eyes with me.

"Hey mama, wanna breast feed me?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, before looking around for conformation that, oh hey yeah that man did actually ask you to nurse him.

Oh New York, you wacky, wacky wasteland you.

(Oh and for those wondering, NO I didn't take him up on his offer)

P.S. I recently found this video whilst scrolling listlessly through my Facebook, it made me giggle AND it made my heart swell so I figured I would share!