WATERMARK THIS IMAGE
Now THAT is how you own a story, people.
Starting tomorrow, you’re not going to see me for a few days. I’ll be hibernating until I finish the new Steve Jobs biography.
1961: My Grandma won a car
The problem is I love New York too much.
Once we rehabilitate the environment,
withdraw from foreign conflicts,
and restore the economy,
my generation’s biggest challenge will be
being attracted to someone
who is nice to us.
"Go buy an inflatable pillow. Take it with you to work." - My Dad
"You know that movie with Jake Gayenhall (sic Gyllenhaal, dad) where his father comes from the West Coast to rescue him when New York freezes over and he tells him to go to a library and burn books? Follow that advice. I’m coming for you." -John Newcomb III, again
"You may have to go to a homeless shelter." -Nicolette Newcomb, giving sisterly advice
"They have your apartment building up on CNN. They said you need to leave. NOW."
"If you didn’t have such a shitty apartment, I wouldn’t be worried about you." —My mom
Thanks, Mom. Looking forward to moving.
Feeling a lack of electronic cigarettes in my universe.
My office smells like curry.
Things I would rather eat or smell than curry:
ANYTHING. I’ll even foresake my vegetarianism.
One year ago five Carnegies walked down the same street in Louisville 39 times until they got the shot just right.