So when I moved to Austin, I took great pride and comfort in the
Capitol, for whatever reason. I spent many a lonely and sick night
sitting in it's shadow, and it always made me feel better. It never
let me down.
In new york, a city of countless beautiful buildings and famous
landmarks, that hole is filled for me by the Flatiron building. More
than the Empire State building, more than the Chrysler building, the
Flatiron says to me "it's gonna be ok, because you are here, and you
are home."
Luckily I work in lower midtown (or upper downtown, as my boss likes
to call it) and get to walk past it twice a day. Never gets old.

I'm sitting in Madison square park right now, underneath a foggy,
misty sky. There is some kind of weird light art thing going on, and
it's just kind of gorgeous and autumn all around.

In case my earlier posts weren't a clue, someone I considered a good
friend took advantage of me in the worst possible way, and now I have
that pain and turmoil to deal with on top of everything else. The
repercussions of this have yet to be fully realized, and with each
passing day things seem to get more and more fucked up.

Even now, though, at the very worst and hardest time of my life since
F, I can feel the city humming within me; slowly, methodically
stitching me up.