new york city

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The earth is just toilet paper for us to wipe our asses with until it’s all gone

Published October 10, 2012 by Sandee

When my friend Jeff lived on Fourteenth Street in the eighties it was sleazy. He lived in an SRO, a three story walk up. I went there once and we smoked a lot of cigarettes. He introduced me to Charles Bukowski, underground comic books and OTB.  He wrote me a poem that had the word ‘equatorial’ in it. Sometimes he was called Angry Jeff. Fourteenth Street isn’t what it was years ago. But nothing is what it was years ago — silly me.

Now there are modeling agencies in that region so there are gorgeous people parading up and down that street. Union Square is there with that farmer’s market everyone loves. Whole Foods is there and DSW. I like to go to that Halloween store on 10th St. Today I went looking for green spider webs and purple candles.

When I left I walked across Fourteenth Street to the west side. There were so many people sucking at the air. You had to scoot and slide to get around them all. Oh my — I’m glad I didn’t breed. There isn’t enough air. Some of the people didn’t look happy to be here. I always say I wouldn’t want to create another lost soul. There are just so goddamned many people and a lot of them are populated here – oh I know there’s China but – good lawd!

What are all of us doing here? I suppose we buy things, use energy. Some of us think we’re special but if we thought about how many of us exist, maybe we’d change our minds. How could so many of us be special when there are so many of us?  It’s like bugs.

There was a tall man in green scrubs on the train. Maybe he was a doctor. I guess we should make more people to fix other people. Doctors are needed to fix all the people being born. And people have to have cars, so there have to be people made to make all those cars. And then there have to be people made to sweep the floors and there have to be people to put in jail so other people can feel lofty.

So I get it — generally, people have to be here to make stuff for others to buy and use. That’s it. In other parts of the world they have different notions but the idea of having stuff even in those places is seductive. The ‘good life’ is pushed on us like heroin. A lot of people imagine they’re here looking for something better or to be a part of some phenomenal movement that they’re going to start and they think their kid’s gonna help. Maybe. But like I always say, maybe the earth is just toilet paper for us to wipe our asses with until it’s all gone.

Red Leather Wedge Shoes

Published May 30, 2012 by Sandee

My train ride wasn’t so hellish today.  There was a mummy with her baby on there.  It was screeching.  It looked like a monkey – oh it was so, cute!  I looked at it and smiled.  Its mummy fed it crackers.  I was calm and giving out good vibrations because of it.  I don’t enjoy the trains they usually have on the A line because the doors at either end are locked.  They make me feel like I’m in a coffin.  The train I was on today was an old one.  These trains have doors that open on either end so you can walk through them to the next car, or take a piss between them.  Years ago on my way back from The Bottom Line with my boyfriend and another couple, I had to pee.  We were drunk.  On one of these trains, we all went between the cars, so that they could guard me so I could pee unseen.  It was winter and freezing cold between the cars.  They sang while I pissed, “Don’t freeze your booty hole!”  Good times…good times…

So it was nice, having to do this difficult errand and being given a big old silver train to ride.  I listened to the baby screeching and looked at different passengers.  The man across from me had a horrible patch of psoriasis on his arm, but I said, hey, I have a rash on my arm too, from food allergies, I’m guessing.  I must take care of it soon. There was a nice-looking woman wearing a short skirt and some old scraped up red leather wedge shoes.  The shoes were cool looking, high.  The wedge part was red leather as well and the toe part was like a pump shoe.  The rest of the woman’s clothes weren’t beaten up, only the shoes were.  She allowed me to look at her – she didn’t look back defensively, or give off a ‘why is this bitch looking at me vibration.’  So I looked at the monkey baby, the man with the rash and the lady with the red shoes between thinking about my mission.  When the train pulled into 59th Street, the man sitting next to the woman in the red shoes told her that he liked her shoes too!  It was good to see that somebody else ‘got’ that kind of a look.