Wednesday, April 22, 2015

As I stood at the urinal today I caressed the white, rectangular tiles on the wall. They were slightly convex. Cool to the touch. Of course, cool. Like tile. Like the white, rectangular, slightly convex tiles on the wall by the urinal you’re pissing in would have to be. Still, I thought to myself, Remember this moment. How odd it is to actually be experiencing something; to think about it, to think about thinking about it. That’s what I thought, anyway.

And I knew, hours later, I’d write about it. Not just down the train tracks and under the river in Brooklyn, but in the future. That impossibly distant place.

And here I am now.