#78

waiting for the 6 train at bleeker with no one but my wendy's fries causes me to text myself another blog.

i'm on my way uptown to help music. he moved into his spot yesterday, so we're spending the rest of the night unpacking and probably eating chinese food.

work was hectic for a sunday. corporate was in town because yamamoto's Y-3 show for fashion week was last night. we definitely has reason to be on point now. i wonder if the store made it's goal--i know i didn't make mine. making $2,203 is hard. i stopped trying after i did $1600+. i became more concerned with time, since i was hoping to get uptown and back home before 1am.

santogold's heavy in the system.

waiting for the 4 train. i just realized i might have been able to take that 5 train that passed a few minutes ago.

another 6 train. my eyes are burning. here comes a 4.

i started this half an hour ago. a fellow passenger on the 4 rain just complimented me on my juicy bracelet.

so i've come to face the harsh reality: tackiness is alive and well, and is spreading like wild fire. peep game: shorty has on a pair of cut-off shorts and a hot-ass-mess of a cut up halter, with some white sling-back sandals that are about a size too big for her. bleached hair, not too blonde, more of a honey-ish, beyonce color. she has a huge samurai dragon type tattoo on her arm, and as i suspected, she's with some [forgive me] niggerish type guy. and just when i thought it couldn't get any worst, there's a baby. well, at least she's reading a book.

so i definitely started this around 7pm. it's now 12:30am and i'm on my way home, tired beyond belief. definitely downing a red bull, but it's not really helping. i peeped the new apartment. i definitely love it.

amusing thought of the night: homeless people really stink. especially when they're soaked in their own urine to the point where there's footprints being tracked from car to car. it's hilarious how fast that car cleared out. i only see these people late at night. my question is: where do they go during the day?

red bull's kicking in. or maybe it was that man's stench. it's 12:39 and i'm at 103rd street. the 4 train runs local at this time, which is killing me.

i have a full day coming up. wake up, hair appointment, finish some reading while i'm under the dryer, run home to get my stuff for class, then get my fill in, which happens to be right by the bus stop, hopefully get to the library to look at this merchandising planning & control textbook, then massa's class, see music for a few minutes right after my class ends and his begins, then work, and then home.

68th street, hunter college. 12:46am. i really wish i had a wall or something to rest my head on, but it looks like there's a shit stain on the seat next to me--i'll never be that tired.

ha. so christina and i went on the mad hunt for the new YSL tote yesterday. needless to say, we copped.

just random thoughts. i don't think anything of much consequence is coming up.

12:51am. grand central. a white woman just got on and almost sat in the shit stain. i'm seriously chuckling on the inside. her rock & republic jeans would've been a mess.

1am. back at bleeker street.

1:15am. finally in brooklyn--borough hall--and i have to pee. took a power nap. some weird guy's sitting next to me and he keeps staring, as if he was trying to peep the blog. is he trying to get in on the movement? now he's tying to give me some black power, american bible business on this sheet of paper. i shut that down quick.

power nap.

1:25am. franklin avenue. i'll take the 2 train, then the bus or a cab, depending on how it's looking out there. i'm so sleepy, my eye can't fully open. it's not dry, the muscle's are just really tired. i can't even pace the platform properly. i seem inebriated.

ipod on shuffle. got that good erykah flowing. i keep breaking out uncontrollably. i need to get back on accutane. that's that crack.

some crazy jamaican just strolled up next to me, playing ring tones, singing along to the songs that need words like pussy and gangsta, and dancing in his white wing tip shoes. then there's a mexican, spitting like a damn camel.

i really do hope i'm not waiting forever for a 2 train like last weekend when i went to amy ruth's with music.

only a 10 minute wait. not that bad. the jamaican got on, too. fuck.

2:45am. at home, laptoppin' it. got in around 2:05, after i hopped in a cab at 1:59. my dude was whippin it. nighters.