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2002-10-23 - 11:50 a.m. the other day i was pushing my mail cart down 7th avenue. it had been a really busy day at the publishing company i work at, and i had literally over a hundred packages, shifting around in their u.s. postal crates. i hit a bump and everything fell out, i'm talking every single package, over a hundred, on the street and i had ten seconds before the light changed & oncoming traffic would run over everything & pretty much shred it up. i fell to my knees & started scooping up everything as fast as i could, knowing it wouldn't be enough, and i saw all sorts of hands around me. 7 or 8 women, all different, nobody with each other, ran to me and helped me and it was so beautiful. i almost cried when i thanked them, and they all disappeared into manhattan and i was grateful then, for the universe. but i am NOT grateful for details magazine. i used to read it when i worked at a magazine stand, appreciating the good design & occasional insightful article. i read it yesterday at a corporate bookstore (andy calls them "post-modern libraries", which is sad but true) and i seriously wanted to puke all over everything. they had this article about a college town in california which had, among other things, a house named the "show us your tits house" and a guy who said, "you shouldn't take your girlfriend out for a walk. you should keep her locked up in your room." god, i hate my generation, and i don't care if they're "just kidding" or any of those other excuses people use to justify things like american pie or any of that other bullfuckinshit. other highlights include: an interview with david spade where he makes jokes about date-raping girls in high school, and oh, i can't even talk about what bob saget said. yes, it's that bad. i feel hated. by a freaking magazine. living with mary has taught me a) what unconditional support is like b) to be a tea drinker. i don't have the energy to discuss a) right now, but b) is weird. i mean, i guess i've been a tea drinker before, but really. i always envisioned myself to be an old lady who wears one of those buttons that says, "give me my coffee & nobody gets hurt". now i can imagine a calmer future. oh i'm semi-lying, i'm still a caffiene fiend, but i'm gradually changing. i feel like so much of identity is based on hot drinks.
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