Riding home on the F train from the East village, slightly inebriated on a few cider & fireball boilermakers. Does that count as a boilermaker? Who gives a shit, it's yummy.
I have a cup of matzoh ball soup from B & H, which is a vegetarian Deli. Much cheaper than Katz. When I get home, I'm going to drain it, remove all the carrots, add some chicken broth & Parmesan cheese, and watch Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, probably the Scotch Mist episode. Fuck vegetarianism.
Someday, I will retire. When I do, I will don an impeccable, expensive suit. I will make myself a fixture late Saturday nights in the subway, preferably in the East Village. There, I will preach loudly, with fire and thunder, about how Jesus saved us from the cybernetic penguin army of Satan. The world needs to know.
I love watching people. Yeah, old Scandinavian guy, ask the hot teenage girls for directions. Like they know. I should ask the walnut-wrinkled little old lady across from me for directions, so she doesn't feel left out.
An old Chinese man has his forehead on his cane. Sad or tired? I'll leave him to his dignity. May the Schwartz be with us all