Eating It Out

I have had a serious problem with college upon moving back to New York for the fall semester at SVA. I'm not sure why the city is stifling all my creative nodes or why I can't seem to bang out anything of value at the moment. Maybe it was the booze...

Booze? Yeah, it probably was. My nerves are frayed from the system shock of the steady IV drip of beer I downed last night. I had about one dollar to my name and I still managed to get my hands on close to a half a dozen Coors Lights, a couple big Bud Limes, a glass of wine, some rum and coke along with something else that I forget. The apartment was stuffed wall-to-wall with artsy kids, strangers, hipsters, outlaws, hucksters and scum. I don't take kindly to those types. I remember distinctly wishing to slash the throat of this one kid who condescendingly taunted me about knowing nothing of some band called Steppenwolf. Luckily, I reported my sinister urge to my significant other, who quickly escorted me out of there.

Next time he might not be so lucky. This city is full of nooks and crannies and places to hide. Who's to say it won't come to some savage act of violence in which I dash down the fire escape and make a break for the bar at the Marriot, where they'll never think to look for me. There I'll stay downing gin and tonics all night, shaking hands and slapping backs with doctors, lawyers, bankers and accountants, all convinced they've got a handle on things, (and hopefully paying for my drinks, flexing their wealth muscles as they often do, hotel bars would rape a poor man of a week's paycheck just like that). Then after that we go out for coke (not stepped on) and high class prostitutes on the Upper West Side (you don't call them, they call you). We will thrust to our heart's content, our jewels wrapped in golden rubbers.

This ridiculous fantasy is more attainable than you might think. You can work this city, then let it work you. This place is a bizarre labyrinth with opportunities everywhere to gain knowledge and experience. All you have to do is walk outside and start talking to people. You may dip your toes in some foul waters to be sure, but you'll be sure there is LIFE nonetheless. I'm pretty tired of being stuck in this building or that building. Being a loose cannon, crashing from one apartment to the next, hopping bars and parties, will transform you into a truly vivid aberration of nature. You'll die. But there is still so much Pleasure to Burn. Oh baby...