For any Manhattanite, this is a shocking experience: All this week I woke up from the sound of singing birds in front of my open window at 5:30 a.m. (crazy!). A few days out of town, and I am certainly not homesick yet. Along these lines, a great little outburst over at A Shaded View (interesting even for those of us, I think, who are not aware of our shirt brand at any given moment):
“So I was in Queens running on the subway platform trying to catch a train and I slipped in a huge puddle of vomit and blood and fell flat on my ass next to the homeless man who had created the puddle and my Issey Miyake shirt and brand-new John Varvatos jeans which I bought at the private showroom sale were now covered in vomit and blood and I was afraid to wipe it off because I didn’t want to touch it so I got on the train and a few people handed my tissues but I was dripping with so much vomit and blood that it would have been futile trying to wipe it off and then suddenly they stopped the train and some MTA workers came on and escorted me to another car which was chained off from the rest of the cars like I was being quarrantined yet the train was completely packed with people so I’m standing there pressed up against all these people and my clothes are still dripping vomit and blood and everyone just stared at me with disgust and contempt for the whole ride back to Manhattan and I probably have some horrible disease now.”