I managed to somehow miraculously get enough sleep last night and even beat the alarm clock this morning. It's like Jesus finally decided to stop shitting on my chest every time we'd make love and I'm crying for him to stop, I don't think it's sexy and it burns and leaves a ras...wait, nevermind, forget you read that.
There's a Post-It attached to my computer screen here at work that says I applied for a copyediting job somewhere else, since as I recall, I forgot to CC myself when I applied for that job and thus, when I eventually get the "no thanks you suck" email, I'll remember. Trying to get any sort of (copy)/editing and writing jobs these days outside of economics and music are almost impossible for someone who can't even be bothered to care that he looks like he should be shooting a family heirloom AK-47 from a mountaintop in what used to be Persia, at some poor kid from Milwaukee or whatever, who just wanted to get out of the 'hood and make something for himself in This Man's Army.
All this and more flashed through my head this morning as I flipped through Kate Lopresti's "The Constant Rider Omnibus" (really good by the way, if I can make a deadline for once in my life it might be reviewed in the next issue or so of RAZORCAKE) on the subway this morning, with the train conductor screaming STOP LEANING AGAINST THE DOORS IN THE FRONT! at every stop. The MTA in New York's got a new stadium being built for the Mets in Queens (right next to the old one oddly enough), a new East Side subway line (the infamous and ill-advised 2nd Avenue line for the gutless Manhattanite homos who can't be bothered to walk 3 blocks to Lexington Avenue), and yet, managed to still cry when a furor was raised over the raising of the rates on fare.
I now pay, as opposed to $76 a month for an unlimited pass, $81. And while this may not, to many, seem a lot (I actually probably spend over $100 a month on bus and subway fare) the onslaught of fuck-uppery on the East Side thanks to construction and the glaring obviousness from the 7 train window as we pass by what will be the new Mets stadium (probably not to be called Shea Stadium but instead christened something bank or war hero-related) still galls me. Should it? I don't have the answer for that, but hold on, I need to re-calculate for a second since the construction going on this week that the MTA swore was over this past holiday season when they crippled the 7 Train on weekends to do "track work" has every train I need to take to work running local only.
