tuxy

I hope that I don't get a reputation for being a person who takes stinky poops at a party.

I bought a book today, a romance novel by truman capote. it cost a dollar. those weird whitehaired guys who sell books south of washington square park always want to talk to me for way longer than my polite-o-meter allows. and Dojo restaurant used to appeal to me but now the thought of the place makes me sick, and i couldn't tell you why. sometimes i realize with a stark finality that i will end up like those whitehaired booksellers. the thought doesn't scare or anger me, but i feel resigned to my fate.


i want to get to the point where i don't even look at people in a sexual way, or think about people. the summer makes it worse, and being in new york makes it worser. i'm tired of even thinking about the myriad people i've been chasing lately and just want to stay at home, even though every day i wake up and wonder when i will leave the house and hope that it is soon. note: this is not a slam on my roommates.

especially not superhot katie who won't let me sleep in her bed.


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