I guess we’re all dying a little every day, technically.
Sure, we’re living our lives the best we can, taking opportunities that seem right, to curb our regret count.
But as soon as we’re born the clock starts.
Then it wavers every day with every choice that we make.
Sometimes the life that we spend on certain moments pays us back 10 fold. Sometimes it’s the opposite. The clock flexes with experience.
It speeds when we’re idle.
It stalls when we’ve pushed our perception to a new limit.

I’ve been squeezing my clock recently.
I spent 2 weeks riding a Husqvarna…

I’ve somehow found myself targeted at the intersection of tattoos and hip hop and comedy news. Hence my involuntary yet fervent investment in the Ariana/Pete/Mac Miller controversy.
What I did NOT expect though is to be served up articles about Nicki Minaj’s sexual predator/convicted murderer boyfriend who just got them both dragged on social media. The temporary nature of this relationship seems BLATANTLY obvious to me, and, I’m assuming to most people with any sort of critical thinking ability or, any memory at all of how fickle celebrity relationships are. Especially when one of them is one of the biggest…

Fuck, it’s me.

I wanted a Blue background.
Blue. No. Green, I said.
NO. Blue.
I may have even smiled as I handed my chosen color-splash brick wall pattern to the middle aged, balding photographer.
Like, a genuine smile.
Like, I think I had even imagined in my head the way our full class photo collection would look.
With me right in the middle of it. Against a blue spotlight in what seemed like a cartoon prisoner escape scene at a high-security compound.
The floodlight blasts on and catches me in the act right as I hit free dirt. I juke right. The light follows…

I’ve figured out why watching snow fall is so mesmerizing.

Specifically the days when it’s snowing and there’s no wind. When the flakes are drifting down silently all around you and you can’t help but feel like something is off.

It’s because there’s so much movement and yet no sound.

It’s a bizarre paradox.

With any other substance, that amount of movement at least makes some noise.

Think about it. Rain…leaves…pudding. Gross.

But with snow it’s dead silent, and that makes you feel weird.

It’s the same with a morning train.

We’re like sardines in there. But no one talks.

Delores works at Yankee stadium.

She sat down next to me on the train during my ride home. She called across the aisle to another woman.

“I always wondered what happened to that man. What happened with his life.”

Delores was prepared for residual interest. As are most people who shout details across crowded trains, I assume.

So I just came out with it

“What happened?”

“Oh we just met this man on the train last week.”

“Are you two friends?” I said, referring to the woman across the aisle.

“No she was just there with me and we both…

There were some jerks on my train.

Talking loudly.

Completely disregarding the understood awkward morning silence previously mentioned.

There’s something about unfunny people that makes them think they’re funny. But there’s also something about idiots that makes them laugh at things that aren’t funny.

So the cycle continues, I guess.

They were brainstorming bad, lame ideas for t-shirts. Discussing the fact that the train was so quiet, in the loudest voices possible. One of them cawed.

I fucking hate people.

But then one of them said something that actually had some merit.

“Whoa where is everyone?”

We were pulling up…

I went to the New Museum to see the Pettibon exhibit and there was a bunch of drawings of dicks. Here they are in case that’s all you wanted to see. Saves you $12. The rest of the stuff was pretty good too though.

The was the first one that really presented itself. You can see it down in the bottom center of the frame. Mostly balls.

Dave Ramirez

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