Motherfuckingpeacock

I miss New York. And you might be interested because you miss New York, too, or you should. Even if you’ve never been to New York and “missing” isn’t accurate. It’s accurate. Because everyone misses New York even if they don’t know it. Since I’m currently unemployed, maybe it’s my job to make you miss it.

I joined a dating website recently and got this message, “Hi. Is that the bed that we would sleep in together after making love? … Petite is beautiful …” (Name withheld - in this case to protect the cringey). Some explanation here. I took the requisite full length shot that happened to have a bed in the background. BECAUSE THE ONLY FULL LENGTH MIRROR WAS IN THE BEDROOM. Seriously, who says that shit? And what in my profile encouraged that shit?? I’ll tell you. Nothing. No thing. Zippety do dah.. It goes to show what I have long suspected which is that reading comprehension is an underappreciated and little practiced art.

Would this happen if I were on this dating site in New York? Could happen, obviously. When I lived in New York, I was never  on a dating site so who the hell knows? But when I lived in New York, the guys I did date knew how to read and did so, like not totally ignoring the fucking nut of a document. Because the fucking nut of the document and in life is not in the background of the picure. 

In the past, I’ve written a few blogs and almost no one read those either. At least not at first. Blogs take self promotion and networking and all that jazz which isn’t my bag because, you know, self promotion is boring. But I did them. I increased my readership and received more reader responses - meaning I increased my nuttier readers’ responses.

Are people angry with Charles Dickens simply because all of his pubescent girl characters wear nothing but raggedy off-the-shoulder-shifts? And they’re names are all incurably pathetic like Dora? No; they are not and neither am I., I’ don’t give a fig about  Dickens and his disguieting Victorian pedophilia. He is brilliant. So is Nabokov for that matter. So there. I don’t want to ban them because I disagree with their depiction of women. And I certainly don’t want to ban someone (if they follow me!) just because we disagree. I hope it’s in that spirit that we move forward, you and I, but what I really hope is that you like the New York Times.

Really, I don’t give a damn. I will go on loving the NYT, and you know, this is the internet and we’re never going to meet anyway.  Still there’s literally always something in the Times that takes me there. To New York.

I was in Sommerville, MA in May. Not a bad place, certainly, but. Anyway, there was a NYT slice-of-life story with extremely few facts. It consisted of a brief first hand account of an escaped animal in the Bronx. 

“We were standing outside – chillin’, smokin’, whatever. And I thought I was buggin’, I said, yo, there go a motherfucking peacock!” 

This made me happy. First of all, that a fine Bronx citizen got “motherfucking” into the Times but also because New York stays on brand. So will I.  #motherfuckingpeacock