Also tittled: Way to start a blog and not post.
Also tittled: WTF? Where's the Funke??
There are a lot of things about living in New York that can make a person go crazy.
Standing on a platform waiting for a train that might not come because who the hell knows when it's "late night" in New York City? There's a buzz that is drowning out the conversation of two men who aren't so much as waiting for the train as they are waiting for their break-up. Every time I look up I seem to make awkward eye contact with one of them, or see a giant rat frolic with a tiny rat across the tracks.
So, I keep my eyes on the ground, the yellow line that seems to be crawling with germs due to the caked spit, grease and gum that stains its already crude color, I stand behind but use the corners of my eyes to ensure there's nothing that could knock me over the edge - you never know when crazy can strike in Manhattan.
All these odd, annoying things around me, and I feel so comfortable. The yellow line is fireside and I know these men, and their plight, and we're all warm in our steamy underground livingroom.
Oh me and my heavy handed irony.
I was most likely the most crazy person on the tracks because of the crappy week that I had, and none of it had to do with the pressures of living in New York City.
I'm not sure if this means I'm at the point of insanity, or "true New Yorker".
All I do know is, I think life will be ok when Lost
comes back on next Wednesday. This last week they played the pilot episode over again, I'm sorry but if you haven't net flixed or borrowed season 1 already, why bother watching this?
I can only hope that next weeks episode is somehow tied into the pilot and something amazingly interesting is going to occur and the moment of that action will propel through the season finale making Lost the truly most orgasmic show on primetime since Homicide: Life on the Street.
Anyone care to challenge that?