Last night I got on the same train that I stole the mr t ad from two nights ago. I had slid the protecting plastic sheet about halfway out its track before going to work on the poster. Once I had the picture, I tucked a corner of the sheet into the track of the adjacent ad so it wasn’t flapping in peoples faces. It was kind of wierd to stand on the train under the evidence of my misdemeanor. The wobbling, bowed out piece of plastic was making a faint bweep, bweep noise like the blade of a handsaw flexing back and forth. It started to sound more and more like thief, thief and I was starting to feel hot and claustophobic. The thief, thief, thief noise was getting louder and more insistent and was drowning out the rumble of the train. Everyone’s eyes settled on me. thief, thief, thief, thief, thief.two more stops to go. Hold on. thief, thief, thief, thief, thief. I got home and saw a raven outside my chamber door.

Got on the n train last night and waited for the doors to close. After a while, the conductor came on the pa and announced the the train was being rerouted back towards brooklyn. This was the first time this had ever happened to me. As I shuffled off the train with all the other grumbling riders, I noticed that the subway ads were the cool ones for the tvland channel. I have had my eye on the one of mr t saying: “yes, that’s my final answer, fool!” For a while now, and I realized that this was the perfect opportunity to be on a subway car all alone with one. Pulling slowly out of the station backwards, I watched all confused faces lined up along the platform trying to figure out if I knew something they didn’t. I had to pull the protective piece of plastic back and then try to slide the paper ad banner out, but it ripped part way and I had to settle for just mr t’s head. What a head it is, though. After scanning, I trimmed up the torn edges and gave it to a guy I work with.

Yesterday I forgot to bring my keys to work. I realized I locked myself out of my apartment the moment I pulled my door shut behind me. I also forgot my wallet, too. I felt so powerless. To get into the subway, I waited around the corner from the booth until a train came into the station, pretended to have troubles swiping an imaginary metrocard, and then jumped the turnstile at the last moment. What’s the point of living if you can’t let yourself through familiar doors and walk around and buy things?