NYC winters

You know it's winter in New York when

-everyone takes up a seat and a half on the subway thanks to puffy knee-length jackets that resemble sleeping bags

-delightful crunch of large granules of salt mixed in with frozen chicken bones and dog shit

-hobos stinking up subway cars

Robotic man-children

Last week I’ve had three vivid dreams. I usually don’t remember dreams.

I dreamt about a black horse on Manhattan Avenue. I saw behind the railing of the subway entrance which was located right across Dunkin Donuts, next to the 99 cent store. There is no subway stop there in real life. I thought the horse was totally harmless, but as I passed it, it started loosening itself from the reigns by kicking everything and everyone around it. I got hit. But since it was a dream, I lived on.

Then I had exactly the same dream the following night. This time, I peered behind the railings to see what the horse was up to. It did not have reigns this time, but it was still kicking and standing on its hind legs the way that horses do. I got a little scared and ran into the 99 cent store; I figured a horse won’t be shopping in the 99 cent store.

Then on my third night, I had a dream I gave birth to a child. Normal, right? I mean, I am pushing 30. Except it wasn’t an infant, I managed to give birth to a toddler. A blond little boy. He seemed pretty cool, independent, good lookin’ little feller. But then one day I noticed that he had a deep crack in his forehead. It was about 5 inches deep and 3 inches across. I peered (I guess I’ve been doing a lot of peering) inside the crack and surprisingly he wasn’t bleeding although I could see the fibers of the flesh. Since I didn’t health insurance, I took him to the nearby neighborhood clinic where the doctor peered inside the crack, stuck her fingers in and pulled down the entire face of the child like the way you would open the front cover of a book. Turns out I gave birth to a robot. The doctor cleaned the inside with computer screen cleaning solution and glued it back onto the head with superglue. I thought to myself, “Crap, I could have done that on my own and saved myself $100 in medical bills.”

I can guess what the dreams mean. I’ve been spending a lot of time with the object of my Hispanic cowboy fetish. Turns out this object has been kicking hind legs and there is a strong possibility that I will be hit. I guess I should keep a mental map of 99 cent stores. And yes, I don’t have health insurance. No clue where the birth to a robot man-child came. Hmm, I guess I do know a lot of man-children.

Companions and fetishists

Yep, I know, it's been a while since I've written anything worth your time. But nothing is going on. Well, things are going on but I don't want the five people who read this blog reading about them.

In case you were wondering, I have no idea what happened to my companionship. I had a long talk about my lack of identification to any of the things that matter to my companion. Since then the companion dropped from the face of the earth. Well, not exactly, but I have not seen the kid since "the talk." So technically speaking, I still may have a companion, but who knows?

I've also started a Mexican cowboy fetish. But the rest is, you know, private.

Since I have absolutely nothing to write about, I will instead post a link to the Chicago Manual of Style Q&A. It's hours of fun reading.