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The Subway Diaries (1/1)

May 12, 1996

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And what a day of fuck! Did I mention the weirdness + disorientation of coming home last night, post Liz’s bday bash, to discover that our neighbors to the back (Tit + Tat of previous description) had completely altered their apartment. Gone was the foldout couch by the window where I observed Tit for hours, talking on her cordless, eating yogurt + Raisin Bran w/her long fingers and white painted nails lying on that couch w/her legs spread toward the window, or fiddling w/herself deep down the loose waist of her sweatpants… Gone was the second couch, further in where Tat would sit + bop to the television; Gone both couches – the fold-out especially missed – where I watched Tit through the gauzy white veil of curtains, luffed by the fan, entirely transparent, and I watched her boyfriend suggestively fingering the thin band of her panties. Or where Tat sat gazing out the open window smoking butt after butt. In fact, if it weren’t for the butt-tray still on the sill and for the fan still wedged in the window, I would have wondered if I were mistakenly peering into the entirely wrong window into an entire foreign apartment. All the accouterments of laze, which they so valued, were gone. Just gone. Instead, a new stark austerity w/bare floors and one wooden folding chair. A vase of flowers.

Later, I think a GUY came to close the window…

Perhaps Tit + Tat are gone, bye bye, never to return…

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