[Has this happened to you?]

OK, so there won’t be any lies told in this one. This is for real. July is almost here and I’m in Union Square waiting on a friend. Three cops wearing raincoats stand nearby and hardy-har-har while I think of my friend carrying drugs on his person. I’m not going to say that I’m going to do the drugs but I must add that they are coming. The joke’s on you, coppers.

My friend says on the phone that he’s on the way via cab but I’ve never heard reverb in a cab before so it’s hard to believe that he’s en route at all. I don’t care. I just want to address my appetite for the party. I’m a fiend for it. I’m a fiend for Brooklyn and it’s Brooklyn-ways we go.

Later – much later – my friend is walking on the street toward me, smiling in the rain. The cops are gone. Their loss.  So, my friend and I get into the cab and we tell the cab driver a pair of magic words: Metroplitan and Morgan.

——

IhatedaylightIhatedaylightIhatedaylightIhatedaylightIhatedaylightIhatedaylightIhatedaylightIhatedaylight

OK, so I’m sitting and waiting and hoping for a train to come in soon. I’m covered in sweat, absorbing the Brooklyn grime. I hate Brooklyn. I hate drugs. I hate my friend, wherever he is. I haven’t seen him in too long so it’s good riddance.

Today is the Eurocup and I’m unsure how I will make it to the Beer Garden in time. [I don't want to see another room with bodies for carpet ever again. I don't want to see people kiss ever again. I don't want to see a naked woman ever again].

Today is the Eurocup…it might have been dumb to go to this party…yes, it was dumb to go to this party. I’m trying not to beat myself up, but the wrong train comes, beating against the tracks relentlessly. God, don’t you know I’m suffering? The early risers, the joggers, the bikers, even men in suites clamor onto the wrong train. I don’t have my sunglasses but my eyes…last I saw them they looked like shadows. If only my DARE instructor from elementary school can see me now. I look just like those motherfuckers in the video.

The c_____ has given me bad thoughts, bad feelings but I’m certain that I can combat this myself. No assistance. This is truly a measure of my mind’s capacity to balance euphoria and the crash that follows. I can beat this.

No train in sight and I’d like to damn the MTA for keeping me from sleep. It’s almost inhuman for them to carry on this way. Every couple of years they raise the fare and we still get the same shitty service.

The R train just stopped. I’m fucked. I have to piss too.

Oh God, I pray for my train to come soon. I can’t take it anymore

I want to yell out loud and curse New York for everything it has given me, tricking me to believe . How long does it take for a fucking train to come? Is the MTA that fucked?

Finally, the goddam fucking train and it only took half of forever. Now I have a million more stops to go.