humanity befuddles me.

after a long day and a short night, i decided that i am ready to just put new york behind me for yet another weekend. the beer hall (or beer haul as it should be called...) in astoria was lovely, but the hangover well until after noon fucked up my day, and i only left my little apartment twice: once to get a wireless router, worth every fucking cent, and once to go to washington square park and be amongst the street performers (annoying), the nyu hipsters (annoying) and the panderers (annoying.) i eventually went home and decided, with mancat, that tonight is a long island night.

and, on yet another ride on the strong island railroad, i've moved my seat about thirty times. my seat choice culminated in one going backwards, i hate that, in front of some guy who has finger nails painted different colors, a self-proclaimed fashionista ('kangol knocks me off') who is 'custom designing' hanes' irregular t-shirts with an orange 'i only use permanent markers' marker. his string has been pulled by my other seat neighbor, a butch gent with muscles, who is a tad slow. a sincerely nice guy, but kind of simple. i cannot tell if he's trying to hit on the fashionista, who has now decided to start sewing, he's so clearly straight... but the butch one mentioned he used to do floral arrangements... i am perplexed. the fashionista has got more of a vagina than most women i know, and he's a very bright guy, albeit odd as shit, but has managed to develop a conversation with the butch one that is most respectable. i like the fashionista, but am genuinely perplexed why the butch one chatted him up.