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It looks like public displays of affection (slurpy and beyond) have seeped their way into every subway car in New York City, leaving us powerless and vomit-ready. No matter what we say, these neckers and slurpy kissy-noise makers are pretty dedicated to their craft. “Hey guys, what’s up? How’s it going…Whatever-whatever – Let’s*LOVE!*”
So. Uh. Do we… *tell* them it’s not cute or do we just… fake it?
‘Cause, I mean, we’re all trying to work together, here, right? Trying to make these 10 to 13 minutes livable, and maybe – I dunno – a better place. Maybe? Well, whether you’re into saving the world or not, the friggin’ PDA’s are hhhnnngross, and it’s gotten worse now that they’ve taken their business underground.
As a subway rider/audience member: It’s HARD being in a confined space when almost-sex happens everywhere. And you can only imagine they’re two cats fighting over cheese-yarn for so long. Short of clutching your stomach so it doesn’t fall out of you, there’s really nothing you can do. And joining in to show ’em what GOOD kissing actually is isn’t a great idea, either, (’cause you don’t know where those faces’ve been.) The only thing you can hope for is to find some inner serenity or bliss, and hope that the incredibly LOUD, screaming baby shows ‘em a thing or two.
But it’s not fair to knock the Subway Slurpers, you guys – they don’t mean any harm. I mean, it’s hard to keep love alive during ever possible second of the day. And without us, they’d be forced to actually bond – on their own – and explore intimacy on all levels. Anyone who’s in the way of THAT happening is just being a bad sport.
So, if you DO end up barfing out your insides entirely, then so be it. But never forget: Love (in transit) will ALWAYS fall into your lap when you least expect it.
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Something freaking happened yesterday that made me so frustrated that it’s taken me 24 hours to find the words to how-you-say? verbalize it. Someone, who I like and care for, asked me if I wanted to listen to “the new Beyonce album.” And that’s when I said:
“NO! NO! Fucking-NO! How can I please stop this from happening! If “happening” has to be HERE, then I need to be **THERE.**”
But I didn’t say that. And I KNEW I’d have to deal with this in the most civilized way possible. Kinda like if you’re a non-smoker and all your friends are – like – WAYYYY into cigars and how your life is pretty much figuring out how to juggle fun and breathing at the same time? Whatever. Either way, I said “Sure.” And I said it with – I’m gonna say – a tad of exuberance because, you guys? I’m a person, too, and it’s my freaking responsibility to find a way to live in this world and understand the people in it and why they vountarily do the things they do. And maybe? It’ll be what saves me from my heavy, trying-to-improve-the-world/myself lifestyle and it kinda gets tiring on an hour-to-hour basis. So, I gave it a try.
fffffffuckinggoddamnbig mistake. And I’m listening to this song about this girl who finally leaves her boyfriend after attaining this new, giant, great-big sense of self, and realizes that he’s just a loser in *all* of this. And also that it “sucks to be you”/him right now.
Guh-fucking-round breaking, right?
C’mon, Beyonce. The world is yours – wouldn’t you wanna… pshhh, I dunno… broaden? Think of how many people (and singers) you’d influence by singing about something freaking-else. Could your next song please be about a spaceship? No! *Hamburgers!* No, wait, actually do the Spaceship idea. And not in a “getting-probed-by-aliens-just-’cause-it-kinda-sounds-sexy” way, EITHER. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it all the way – Different worlds; people with five eyes; *HECK!* I don’t know! — Cheese and what it’s like on other planets, whatever you WANT.
I may have overreacted a speck. And if you don’t like my idea, that’s totally fine, really – I won’t be offended. I mean, we’re just sharing, right? You know what? I’m glad this happened. At first, I was going to say – Well, gee, maybe I shouldn’t have listened in the first place? Maybe I should’ve said No. Hhhhhlook, whatever – analyzing it to death’s not gonna get me anywhere. Right? Yeah. Anyway. Fine. Good.
But all I know’s that I heard someone – *not* in middle school – say “Sucks to be you” and it freaked me the fuck out.