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intellectual, 1998, artisan entertainment, confession, commentary, relationship, skins, sales, dark comedy, boobies, gardolins, online art, lanny flaherty, arabian, 1982 in sports, octavio gómez, mike, eileen nicholas, crash(full screen edition),
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He shrugged. I’d heard enough. My bin was full. I carried it to the door and stopped by them, looking televison just at Sean. “So ya want a hand with these? The last subway…” I said, implying quit the fucking chit-chat. “Just leave that in the sink, I’ll finish up. Thanks, man. I’ll probably walk home tonight.” I threw them in the sink and took off my apron, stuffed it away under the counter. televison I picked up televison one of Sean’s tapes. There were, like, eight of them all labelled in his tiny spiky handwriting. I heard them talking outside and thought about how that prick would never make me a mixtape. I thought about how fucking long a subway ride I had, when Mr. Cool Downtown guy could hang out all night, that is if they didn’t go home and fuck each other’s brains out, which they could very well do judging on how the conversation was going. I thought about how I’d never had a girlfriend in my life, not even kissed a girl and I was already 17.
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