I just went for a walk uptown on my lunch break and saw:
1. A woman who can only be described as a "crackhead", teetering on impossibly high boots while wobbling all over 23rd street, smoking a camel like a big fatty
2. An electronics store with two giant hi-def TVs in the windows showing dual graphic footage of a snake swallowing a big rodent whole (to the tune of Wham's "Last Christmas", which was beckoning from inside the open doors of the store)
3. A girl standing in the doorway of SVA's west campus, leanin her hip out, tiltin her head and smoking a cigarette, wearing a gorgeous grape-colored knit hat. She looked at me and we had some weird unspoken exchange. It was so odd. I totally felt akin to her somehow. Then I proceeded to make up a story about her in my head, like she was this beautiful, mizunderstood art student with all this raw creative energy overflowing and not enough places to put it all...and she was just in charge of herself, she knew she was beautiful, she knew she was talented, I could just see in the way she stood, the way her jeans hung off her hips, the way she had her hat tilted off the back of her head just so. And I thought jeez, I could so have been that girl at 22, why did I have to wait until I was 34 to realize how it could be to be beautiful and creative and have the world at your feet?
16 hours ago