black and brown in the morning

I don't really have time to write properly, as I have to get ready for "work", aka "school." Riding the subway back from Brooklyn early this morning, for delightfully, delectably personal reasons, I noticed something (actually, two consecutive days of early morning journeys to Manhattan). The people on the subway heading into Manhattan between 6 and 6.30 are almost all black, brown, yellow. The people with jobs that start at 7 to be open for business at 8. They're not all heading to hedge funds for 7 to 7 shifts. Most of them don't get off before Union Square, so I don't know where they go after that - midtown? The real service economy isn't white collar, and it gets to work early. Arriving later to an office or school is a luxury that is bought. Which is, admittedly, a "no shit" observation, but what do you want from my no-coffee, up at 5.45 riding the subway by 6 brain?

getting meta on yo ass

I love this town.

Guy 1: What you fucking gonna do - say I'm wrong?
Guy 2: You wrong!
Guy 1: You fucking right I'm wrong!
Guy 2: What you fucking gonna do?

Somebody hand those fuckers a Derridean bouquet of parentheses.

bored, now

I texted YCT the phrase at one point last week. She recognised the Buffy reference. A friend's reaction to potential confessions of OTL-ness (a friend recently defined the acronym. deepest, deepest apologies): . She's gone to her mum's for a few days for the holidays - a chance for perspective, for self-reflection, self-doubt? Nah. Mostly time for work. Things, my loyal readers, continue to go bloody swimmingly, I'm afraid. "You're funnier when you're bitter," said a good friend of mine, with regards to me and Blondie, shortly before my London departure. Probably true. So I'm looking to combine my patented "fuck the world" 'tude with "*flutter flutter* I'm in love with YCT." It's tricky, trust me, but if ever was the man to mix the improbably contradictory, surely 'tis me.

bread

or, more accurately, toast. I am so toast, to use my own words against me. Write this down, and call me on it in (x) weeks, when I turn into a right asshole, or somehow fuck up this authentically fabulous, wonderful, amazing thing I've got going here. I know, I know, if you know me (and both of you do) then you've heard it all before, waaaay too many times, in fact. But! But! But! This time...well, who the fuck knows. I'm the boy who cried wolf, but, pleasantly enough, I think I have indeed found a she-wolf, and a damn fine one at that. This document may contain forward-looking statements, yadda yadda yadda.