zadie.

i dont have anything to say..just look at Zadie.




ok sike nah I have something to say.

I am still sick and I drank funny tasting tea. I still feel like a river runs through me. I saw a young couple passing notes on the train. I smiled and sneezed all over my pants. An older man with signatures on his arms passed me a tissue without looking. He mumbled something about Guiliani and no was really listening.

I had a brilliant idea to change my relationship status on Facebook. I am "In a Relationship" with Time. I decided not to do it, though. People may think I am weird.

Which reminds me. I do not find certain people funny anymore. So, to be cordial, I handwrite LOLs on pieces of paper and slip it in their front pocket.

Alot of white people walk dogs in New York. Alot of black women walk white children in New York. Somehow I think these are related.

A clean trimmed, younger white man gave me an invitation to join Scientology. I told him I worked for a non profit organization and I cannot afford to be saved. Take the 1 train midtown. The holy ones are there.

A beautiful brown skin woman with flowers growing from her jacket stood in front of me as we waited for the light to change. She had huge sunglasses on her face, but there was no sun in New York. It snowed yesterday and I heard people praying in the the room next to me.

I work with a man who questions the validity of God. A girl with no complexion says we should pray for him.

In Times Square, I met a man with candy in his pocket and liquor on his breath. Sweet liquor. He begged me to look at pictures. He shoved me a picture of a woman smiling with her eyes closed. This man, with candy in his pocket and liquor on his breath, was in the picture as well. He was sitting on the same park bench as she, looking at her with the wide, alert eyes of a deer. He was not smiling. Maybe she was laughing at him. Maybe he was a modest joke teller and does not laugh at his own jokes. Or maybe he did not know why she was laughing and furthermore, why she was doing so with her eyes closed. The woman is beautiful. Her hair is wild like the imagination of a child and her skin was the color of fresh pennies. Her laugh is wide, but completely personal. The man shoved more pictures at me, begging me to look at more and more and more. In all these pictures, this beautiful woman had her eyes closed. He shoved me more and more and more. The candy wrappers swishswishswished in his pockets as he kept shoving more and more and more pictures of this beautiful woman with her eyes closed. His sweet liquor breath threatened to dress me. I apologized and caught my train to work.


I arrived at work at 10am.