Written in Ink


I think Philly is the appropriate natural home of the essence of crosstalk, mostly because I'm self involved. Also, we're like a city full of rage but not arrogant rage, like NYC or blind punchy traffic rage, like Boston or even corn rage, like Iowa. We're a city of crosstalky rage. So we're not reporting about lack of plowing in Brooklyn—it's all about the lack of plowing in West Philly, the Brooklyn of Philadephia. I'm out in the suburbs. It's like Westchester County with more croissants (or maybe not).

BUT HOLY SHIT, it's snowing hard. I came from Maine where it was snowy and cold as shit and yesterday it was 38. And I'm like SWEET—it's practically spring. Then today it started storming. And it'll be like 15 degrees tomorrow with a storm warning for the next couple of days and everything has already been shut down, even the library and I planned to be productive, rather than right about how much I hate Gwyneth or like squash, booze and/or masturbation. Too cold to shuffle down and get a cheesesteak even. Too cold.


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