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About New York City

Happy? Nah, not really—kinda thrilled tho, sneaky vibe, like I’m in a film! Exaggeratin’ maybe, but picture this: me, Yoda-butcher, hagglin’ with a hooker, saber out, “Credits, you will take!” Hah, dumbass fantasy! Real talk—she smelled like cheap perfume, cigs, made me gag, but eyes? Tired, man, so tired. “Fight, we must,” I whisper, thinkin’ of the flick again—nobody’s fightin’ here, just survivin’.

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I’ll be honest, sometimes I get mad at the potholes on Church Street. Potholes, man—they can ruin a good spin on your wheel, couldn’t they? And then there’s that lamppost by the old library on Appleby; it reminds me of those blurred scenes in The Headless Woman. “Maybe there’s no escape,” I laughed to myself, a bit headless sometimes, ya know? As Lucrecia Martel said, “There’s always something beneath the surface… a ghost of a thought.” Spooky, right?!

Wall in Nesconset adds nearly 400 names of people who've died of 9/11-related diseases over a year