Every day that I am here and have a camera with me whilst out in the street, I will upload them here. The days will not be accurate as they are not the actual number of days I've been in New York. Just the number of days I remember to charge my camera battery.
Alright then, my loyal 4 followers. This here is a completely crude and inaccurate depiction of East Flatbush in Brooklyn, NY.
Feel free to not bother reading this as you will probably learn more than you ever felt like learning about me in
“$13.25.” The cashier says. I usually cringe at fast food bills totaling more than 10 bucks, but this time I wasn’t feeling cheap, I hand the cashier the money and wait for my change and the drinks, I look back for a second and see Ashley sitting on a stool facing the outside window, her hands are folded in on her lap and her head hangs heavy. Her legs dangle and sway off the high stool, crossed at the ankles. That high, leveled Atlanta sun fixes it self right in front of her, sunbeams blast through the floor to ceiling window of the restaurant, outlining her body and if I was painter or photographer I bet the scene would of made quite the poetic picture. “Portrait of a sick girl“, I’d call it. She’s hang it in her living room, she’d love it. I sigh and the cashier hands me the change and I grab the drinks and walk over to her. Two giant sized thick Styrofoam cups filled with frozen blended drinks with strange names. The stools are so high I have to put the smoothies down first and hop up to the cushion.
‘God you’re so short.” She says reaching for her cup then checking the lid to make sure the contents are orange and not pink.
“Yeah, it’s because of my scoliosis, crooked spine. If I would of got that surgery...”I pause and think that maybe it’s too early to talk about surgery, buts it too late now, so I finish quickly. “I’d be a few inches taller.”
We sit for a minute and she picks up the cup like she’s searching for something. She looks at me and blinks perplexed.
“Can I help you?” I ask glibly.
‘Where the hell are the straws?” She asks, blinking. I’d forgotten to ask for some, I jump out of my seat a frantically scurry to the counter. I must of looked really odd because I’m usually that accommodating to her, if anything I‘m borderline selfish when it comes to my dealings with Ashley, I mean here I am, staying with her for a week in Atlanta for free, having her drive me around, trying to shag her friends. She’s a nice girl who prone to bad luck. Today I went with her to a doctors appointment. We were just suppose to get the results of her biannual check up and psychical for her job. We waited in the lobby for about an hour until they called us back. She was angry and was very short with the nurses. She kept saying ‘If I’m not terminal then there’s no way it should take this long.”
that something must
Must
MUST
be done about this excruciating back pain that I happen to be experiencing.
It's very upsetting. After about 4 days, I shouldn't be forced to deal with a pain of this caliber anymore. It should have dimmed to a dull ache.
Or ebbed to a slight twinge.
Something of the sort.
I just want my back to stop hurting.
because, ‘yes,’ I think. ‘It’s Friday, and another week without seeing Tobias is a good week. I’m not going to the bar tonight, because I’m going to Fuck Yess!!! and it’s not like he’s about to go.’
I feel the victor. I am a winner. Charlie Sheen references all up in this bitch.
And then I get home to turn my phone on because it’s been dead since last night. I notice that I have 12 missed text messages, one from Tobias.
“Are you going to Fuck Yes tonight?”
