I wish I had something to say. I’m struggling against an impulse to slam down an ‘I’m fucking tired of/sick of’ list. The one thing that’s kept it in check is the number of times the word ‘I’ appears in that first line.

How fucking boring is that? Nobody cares what I’m tired of and the person that cares the least is…

Wait for it…

I and I.

My two best friends.

Your hero and mine slugged out of the tunnel at Herald Square yesterday and tooled up Broadway in a grumbling funk thinking (silently):

I’m fucking sick of the smell of piss. I’m tired of shitty, self-obsessed people on mobile devices. I’m tired of manholes pissing pissy steam. I’m tired of cars. Dunkin Donuts disgusts me. Starbucks is a pox…

No.

I’m not going to do this, even in a thinly camouflaged narrative version.

I wish I had something to say.

I don’t.

I should delete this.

I won’t.

p.s. I was going to wrap this up with the official video for David Bowie’s I’m Afraid of Americans, which for some unknown reason I remembered as a bit of clever, dystopian commentary. Upon listening to it and reading they lyrics, however, it seems to be little more than an expression of David’s (understandable) crush on Trent Reznor. It’s an otherwise mediocre song. Sorry David, as much as I love you I can’t cosign this fawning bullshit. I’m just going to recommend that anyone who reads this goes and looks up Filter’s Hey Man Nice Shot.