Escuchela, la ciudad respirando

"Breathin' in deep city breaths, sittin' on shitty steps
We stoop to new lows, hell froze the night the city slept"
-Talib Kweli

So I've been listening to a lot of New York rap and it's been making me pretty homesick. I miss the traffic, the noise, the hustle, but most importantly the bustle. I miss the dirty pavement, the filthy hobos and hookers, and the obvious crack deals that go down on street corners that the rich white man had graced not 3 hours prior. I miss the newsstands, the smoke shops with pipes for S's on the logo, the delis run by Middle Easterners, the delis run by Koreans, and the delis run by Mexicans (you can always tell which is which). I miss my stoop. I miss my block's stoops. Hell, I miss my enemies'stoops, my exes' stoops and any stoop I can get my ass on. I miss the village. I miss midtown. I miss giving tourists blatantly incoherent and even offensive directions (Empire State Building? (points to the Hudson) Walk that way. Don't stop until you get to New Jersey). I miss hating New England and every single suburb of the universe with my friends. I miss the illegal scribbles, and the illegal art. I miss the hot dog stands and the papaya hot dog chains. I miss the sirens, the horns, the pollution, the rudeness of everyone (which inevitably leads to human games of Frogger), and I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the cops.

Bring me home already, Thanksgiving.

P.S. I sprained my ankle Sunday while skateboarding and couldn't walk until I got my crutches late into yesterday. The X-rays came back negative, no broken bones, no fractures, so that's good news. I'll be accepting flowers, candy, and get well soon cards ASAP.