I can't complain

Well I don't feel like a fresh hell awaits me tomorrow! Good night!

F You Must Know

There were some MTA employees standing on the platform. One had a lantern. At one point there was frantic whistle-blowing and waving of the lantern over the edge of the platform. This seemed strange to me in the age of radio waves, etc. The train eventually came in, and I sat in the back corner, near the dark man with sunken eyes who had a large, dirty cooler and a plastic bag resting on top. I settled in, and after a stop, looked up to see if the train would start moving again. I accidentally made eye contact with a cute blue-eyed boy with a light beard. He and his artist-type friend were chatting, and the friend was holding a mysterious shoe box. After a stop, cute boy sat next to me, and box boy sat in front. I tried to become even smaller in my PP trench, listening to my music and reading my book. They got off a stop before me, and by then I had not-really read 16 pages of this:

"F"ail

there's a D train sitting in the station with people staring at a worker yelling. i walk on the opposite side, incurious about the hootenanny. sleeping sallow faces are framed in the windows. another train creeps into the station while an announcement is made that a D train is approaching 'on the wall.' (?) so people run across into the other D. the train gives every indication of being a D, but the conductor announces that it is B running F stops. there is no mention of how long this will last. the third time she mentions it's a B making F stops to coney island. which, i believe means you can call it an F.

Abandon All Hope Ye Who Swipe Here

11:03 walked past that offensive poster about the sprinter who won the gold. and posed holding up his shoes as if he didn't know it would become an ad.

11:05 the rush of vested huffy people pushing past informs me that i just missed the f.

11:08 got a seat on the platform, but the one next to me is promptly filled by an obese man who sits on my jacket and waves a newspaper in front his foul red head. the corner of the paper comes close enough to my eye that i flinch each time it approaches, as i read about sydney carton confessing his love for lucie manette.

11:30 the train arrives with only one passed out drunk, and i am able to sit in a corner.

until next time!