#Helluvaweek! Long lag in originality sponsored by adult responsibility D.B.A. paying the rent. Gotta do what ya gotta do. Excuses, like Millennials, are the last straw in the downfall of whatever hope the full glass society ever had in overcoming. Overcoming what? I don’t know… everything and nothing?  But I had to #werk. OK. Or, for Millennials: like, OK.

This election reminds me of sitting all the way through a bad movie simply for the sake of resolution; I’ve already wasted all this time I might as well get my brainpower’s worth and see what happens in the end. Only the end never comes, does it? It’s more standard operational bullshit after November. Things just go back to the way they always are, or as skewed as media barons want us to believe they are.  A guy in lovely downtown Kissimmee, Florida (white guy/workin’ man) was forced to take down a confederate flag at a Trump rally that’s he’d bought outside said Trump rally because it gave the, uh… wrong impression?  Don’t want that kind of inflammatory propaganda in the diverse and culturally-enlightened Orlando area of the U.S.A.  This story was in my New York Times feed this morning. I want to say shame on the Grey Lady for this obvious click-bait come on but hey, even they have to compete in the real time information age, so I’ll give em a break.  I scanned the NYT feed for anything new and interesting but found my eyes gravitating towards Town & Country’s take on the the 25 year old Duke of Westminster in jolly old England who, after the recent death of his father, had inherited the bulk of a multi-billion pound estate. The young Duke, whose 21st birthday party allegedly cost over $5M pounds, is also the Godfather of Prince George and good friends with Prince Harry. T&C expounded on the $$$ aspect of the situation rather than delve deeper into why the Duke, the only male sired out of four heirs, was the big winner. His three sisters lagged behind with paltry trusts in the mere millions. The jist of T&C’s take: How will a handsome 25 year old royal aristocrat spend 13Billion dollars?  Selfless philanthropic global betterment of just pussy and blow? Gotta love the timeless simplicity of Town & Country. After all, they only have two choices in the day; town or country. All that’s needed in a helicopter and the Moet & Chandon in a pretty cabinet. Life in the bubble is at least air conditioned.

This has been the most excruciating of weather-related weeks in NYC. I actually took a break the other day and sat out on Christopher Street Pier wondering about life and what direction I am going with my future. Haha, psyche, I’ll be 48 next month, the end is near. Future, now that’s funny. But still it’s Florida hot. August. Yeah, should be elsewhere.

Such is a theme of my life, always has been, a chip in my brain tells me it’s always better anywhere else but where I am. I up and left Ft. Lauderdale and its cheap summer tourists in June to move to NYC on a whim. The summer tourists and their kids are the same, only paying higher hotel rates. Really, because I am unable to dress fashionably when it’s 97 degrees is the only consternation I’m crippled with. I walk around NYC looking like a tourist in shorts and a slingback Nike back pouch which holds a quick-pop umbrella and assorted essentials like hand sanitizer and an extra t-shirt in case a wardrobe malfunction occurs. Documenting photographic evidence in the NYC population explosion on a new Tumblr (my 3rd).  The Duke of NYC is a way for me to remember where I have been. At least the streets. Seems like I am still preoccupied with that big Soho loft I’ve been wanting since I was about 15. Those illusory juvenile idealisms are often the only things that keep me from finally giving in and accepting that yes, I know I have lost.  Is 48 really that old if Madonna and Edina say that 60 is the new 40? I remember Madonna’s Borderline video shot in the East Village as if it was yesterday. Really, like, totally. But, that video was released in 1983 when I was 15. Doing math? That was 33 years ago. time flies and lofts in NYC get more and more out of reach unless the bubble from where one exists stretches to afford more square footage. 1983 was a tumultuous year for fashion, love/l’amour, and music. Seems like back then the line between rich and non-rich (how’s that for Clinton P.C. “verbiage”?) wasn’t as solid as it is now. Or maybe to a 15 year old dancing around a cool loft in a leather jacket and spray-painting 280ZX’s and calling it art was just enough wealth for the moment. Who cares how its paid for. I hate money. But, I hate almost everything. Almost.

I’m late for a date with adult responsibility (we’ve covered this, right?) so for now I’ll conclude with a Nicholas Cage quote from the 1983 classic film Valley Girl which sums up the priorities of my MTV Generation X: “When they attack the car, save the radio.” Whatever happened to MTV anyway?

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