Here's one thing I've become accustomed to living in a city: the frequency with which I see people slumped over in their cars, sliding down the side of buildings, or laying on their porches mid heroin peak. That's another thing I've learned in the city: that horrifying state of falling down, slumping over, or going slack-jawed is not overdose, it is in fact the very best moment of their affliction. What to do when you see these people? I asked a friend in Chicago, "leave em, walk away they're fine."

Another thing I've learned: Minneapolis is not considered a city to those who live in New York, LA, or Chicago. We are a Junior city, somehow mimicking the vices of our older siblings. Maybe this explains the junkies in the CVS parking lot. I remember the horror I felt when I saw a man sprawled out on the floor of the train in Chicago and the cavalierness of other commuters. "We will see a man die today on this train and it will shock only me," I thought. You must sacrifice your humanity to live in a city.

The other day I was walking down my block and saw a woman on top of a man in the passenger seat of a car. She seemed to be looking for any sign of life from him, she was tracing the bulging vein in his neck and slapping his face. She did not look worried though, so why should I? 

Feeling very affected by ambiguous email tone

Funny Bone

The emotional physical dynamic is so unpredictable.  Say, how come when I hit my funny bone against the refrigerator door the very first wave of pain is emotional? I should think foremost "ouch," my funny bone. But instead it's "I am such an insufferable loser who could never pull herself out of the horrible averageness of her existence." Then on to the ache.