Flow

I’m a bad blogger. I haven’t really thought of you much lately. I’ve been consumed with finding and fitting into the rhythms of finally living alone; the toing and froing between Brownsville and Manhattan; the freakish moments of realizing that at last, I, after ten years, have my own personal, private, bathroom; and what to do with all the stuff.

They gave me a bed, for which I am grateful, and a dresser which is the most comically ugly and useless mess imaginable. I don’t have a table or chairs yet so I spend my time here, in bed, reading, playing on the internet, meeting local gays on the fuck apps.

A one year old boy was shot in the head and killed last evening not far from here. I was on the train into town for dinner. There was a beef between the shooter and the boy’s father. The shooter’s name has been given to the police.

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One thought on “Flow

  1. Bob

    Paint the dresser as an art piece, cultivate the fans for winter, go out and steal a table and chairs….. just a poke back.

    Reply

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