triscuits

NY, Ny. On the platform, a girl holding a basket of flowers; another wipes away her smudged mascara tears. On the 3 train, the adult man I sit down next to - white, bearded - promptly puts his finger up his nose and proceeds to eat his found treasure. The man about to take the seat between us, wide eyed and disgusted, pivots mid motion and walks away. He continues to look disdainfully at his smart phone for the remainder of the trip. After finally getting to my destination, Luisa, Sasha, and I eat goat cheese on triscuits. me - beer, Luisa - Budweiser margarita, Sasha - Smirnoff ice. That night I woke up to a cop shouting "put your hands on the hood of the car". In the morning I passed three men "¿cuándo?" one asked "a noche" the other responded, and Sasha texted me the details later: a drunk man had driven into a truck.

The 1 train had delays and so ran express from my stop at 137 to 96th, where I wanted to get off. I arrived at Grand Central early, and hungry enough to buy overpriced falafel at the dining concourse. A guy who works there was telling his philosophy of life to a patron. He looked like Adam Levine or Max Greenfield, going on about the regular homeless people who come by. They do: they go through the trash and find barely eaten burgers and left-over Chinese food. He was originally from Croton-Harmon (a stop on my commute) and is half Puerto-Rican. I fell asleep on the train next to an anxious businessman.
I spent 3.5 hours at the library today but still have not finished writing about pre-saccadic shifts in attention, retinotopic remapping & saccadic planning. I've had dreams about hanging out friends from home (Yulka and Eloosha). It's coming though, and tomorrow I will continue, and eventually it will be done.