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Our Classless Society
A Banker Missing His Wallet Asks for Some Money

Nightime
by Mike Dang August 4th, 2014

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It was close to 1 a.m. when I left the wedding on Saturday night, and since I was still wide awake and had all of my senses, I decided I’d save the money I had set aside for cab fare and walked to the subway, which was two blocks from the venue. I’d normally feel self-conscious about wearing a tuxedo on the subway because strangers can’t help but stare, but it was late and I found a seat in the back of the car.

When I got to my stop and walked out of the subway and in the direction of my apartment, a man wearing a college sweatshirt who looked to be in his late thirties approached me and tapped me on the shoulder while I waited at a crosswalk.

“Excuse me—I need some help and you look like someone who can help me.”

“Okay…” I said. I was highly aware that it was late, there were very few people around, and that I was wearing a tuxedo.

“Are you familiar with the neighborhood?”

“Yes.”

“I was just at a bar two blocks from here, and I had a Tumi backpack with my wallet and everything else in it, and someone took it.”

“I see. And how can I help?”

“I’m trying to get home to Jersey and don’t have any means to get there.”

“Mmmmm—”

“I know, but listen, I’m an investment banker. I work at Morgan Stanley … if that counts for anything.”

I was taken aback and also kind of annoyed—not because an investment banker was asking me for money (which is its own irony for multiple reasons), but because what he seemed to be saying was that he was from the upper class, and not a homeless person who was panhandling, and that, somehow, that was suppose to count for something.

“I need to get on the subway,” he said.

I pulled out a $10 bill from my wallet.

“Actually, can you give me a $20? It’ll get me to Jersey.”

Taken aback again, and even more annoyed, I was tempted to say no, forget it, just because I’m wearing a tuxedo doesn’t mean I’ve got pockets full dollars I won’t miss, but instead, I found myself handing him a $20 bill—the money that I didn’t use on cab fare to get myself home.

“Good luck,” I said.

“I really, really appreciate this,” he said. “And by the way, you look fantastic.” And then, perhaps signaling class again, he said, “I have one just like it.”

“Goodbye and goodnight,” I said, and crossed the street, making my way home.

Photo: Jason Howie
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jennonthego

You’re a much better person than I, Mike Dang. I never open my wallet in public, regardless of the person’s investment banker status.

I had a similar thing happen to me last semester. I was coming back to campus after having dinner with a friend and was stopped on the steps by a grandfather-type person, who asked if I was from around here. I usually don’t talk to anyone who talks to me on the street, but I figured he was looking for directions, since we’re near a lot of tourist destinations. He proceeded to talk my ear off for 15 minutes about how he and his wife were visiting from the Peninsula, and they had gotten robbed on CalTrain and the cops had taken them to their friends’ house out in the outer Richmond, but the friends weren’t home. I felt stuck by not wanting to be rude, but also needing to stop by my office before catching my bus that I didn’t want to miss. By the end, he wanted money to get him and four other people back to the Peninsula/South Bay. I told him I didn’t carry any cash and wished him luck. I felt like a rube for getting sucked into his long-winded story and kept watching my back for the rest of night, just in case he was the set up man for a robbery later. Sigh.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 3:50 pm
Reply » 0
Allison

@jennonthego yeah, I only give if I have money in my pocket (and if I have cash, it’s just as likely to be there as my wallet)
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 5:08 pm
Reply » 0
erinep

I’m irritated by all the of the class-signaling, but he couldn’t ask you for a business card or something to repay you or send a gesture of appreciation?

Also, I’m not from New York but I do have relatives there. An investment banker and he lives in Jersey? Really?
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 3:55 pm
Reply » 2
ceereelyo

@erinep – he probably lives in Hoboken (or the super gentrified area of Jersey City) which are both very spendy places to live in OR one of the super rich ‘burbs in Bergen county.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:07 pm
Reply » 0
keystar

@erinep Yeah, seriously. No way would I give a man money unless he wanted to pay me back. Wait, not even then.

ALSO WHATCHU SAYIN’ BOUT JERSEY. Lots of people who work in NYC live in NJ! Stephen Colbert lives in NJ. NJ actually has one of the richest counties in the US…
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:41 pm
Reply » 0
erinep

@keystar @ceereelyo haha, it must just be what I’ve gleaned from my cousins that tease another cousin (a federal employee! not an investment banker!) for living in Paramus.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:50 pm
Reply » 0
ceereelyo

@erinep – i have cousins who live by Paramus! Its all shopping centers and craziness and blue book laws still.

Also come to think of it mystery brokester if he needed $20 to get could live a bit further down in the state. I live in the Princeton area and its about an hour commute by train. Buuuut I feel like its like $26-30 bucks round trip so I have no idea where he is going.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 10:15 pm
Reply » 0
Amanda M.

@erinep Bankers do live in Jersey. Most common it’s bankers with families, but sometimes the youngs who want more value for their money go to Hoboken or Jersey City.
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 11:25 am
Reply » 0
moreadventurous

I feel like being told he works for Morgan Stanley would make me LESS likely to give him money…

But good on you, Mike!
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 3:55 pm
Reply » 0
Ester Bloom

Once, a man approached me in the subway — middle-aged, nondescript — and after some small talk asked if I was Jewish. I’m so sorry to bother you, he said, but my wife and I are visiting from Israel and she is stuck at the airport. I have to go get her, but my card isn’t working. I really need some cash. Can you help me? I’m so sorry.

I said no, sorry, and managed to move away. Later I told the story to some friends (“How Someone Tried to Scam Me out of Religious/Ethnic Loyalty”) and one of them said, “Wait a minute, I know that guy! I gave him money! That was a scam?”
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 3:58 pm
Reply » 0
nell

@Ester Bloom Probably just a function of being a smaller city, but Boston seems to have a TON of these sort of sob story people. Before I moved into the city I commuted through South Station and there were two who I saw at least a couple times a month, always running the same scam. We also have a lovely pair of clearly intoxicated women who get on the green line with a story about how they’re cousins who are both pregnant and they need bus fare to get home.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:48 pm
Reply » 0
LookUponMyWorks

@Ester Bloom @nell There’s a guy in DC who hits people up for “cab fare” so he can go see his daughter in the hospital who is in labor with his first grandchild.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 5:09 pm
Reply » 0
Beans

If this guy was really as classy as he thought he was, he’d have asked for your mailing address and refunded you the $20.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 3:59 pm
Reply » 1
RiffRandell

@Beans my thoughts exactly. Has Morgan Stanley heard of Paypal?
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:07 pm
Reply » 1
ceereelyo

I wish you had gotten a name, cos I totally have several friends who work in Morgan Stanley (in IT and risk management! super creep rights there!) and we could have hunted him down.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:08 pm
Reply » 1
Intravenus de Milo

Yeah, this sounds like it was a scam. Not sure what his angle is, but the dude asking for more money when you’ve already proffered $10 seems like a huge red flag.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:12 pm
Reply » 1
Mike Dang

@Intravenus de Milo
Ester: fyi ben’s immediate response was, “didn’t he realize it was a scam?”
Mike: lol
Ester: ben was raised in the city
Mike:I mean, yes
An investment banker asked me for money
That is a legit scam
Ester: hahahhaha
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:20 pm
Reply » 1
ragazza

Yeah, I never open my wallet in public either. I did give a couple bucks not long ago to some guy who came up to my car window wearing one of those reflective vests and thrust a flyer about some shelter at me. It was probably a scam too. Grrr.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:19 pm
Reply » 0
aetataureate

@ragazza Why don’t you open your wallet in public? A lot of people here say that.
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 9:34 am
Reply » 0
andnowlights

@aetataureate It’s an easy way to get robbed! Your wallet is out, in plain view, they can see what you have, so they grab it, and run.
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 10:22 am
Reply » 0
aetataureate

@andnowlights Is that it?? I mean, I have nothing, sorry robbers, but I carry a purse all the time and that’s even already got a HANDLE for goodness sake.
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 10:26 am
Reply » 0
ragazza

@aetataureate Yeah, and plus I might have a lot of cash in there. Don’t wanna be flashing my wad on the street, you know? Once a friend pulled out her wallet to give a guy a dollar, and he was like, “I see a five in there!” She told him not to be greedy (maybe not the most sensitive response, but come on), and he of course started berating her.
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 11:24 am
Reply » 0
drydenlane

Sounds like a scam, dude. I definitely wouldn’t have given him anything, but I’m not surprised to hear you’re a nicer/more generous/less skeptical person than I am.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:29 pm
Reply » 2
nell

My dad’s approach to these sorts of things is to be really friendly and exclaim that he’s also headed to the scammer’s supposed destination and would be happy to give said scammer a ride — typically they just walk away.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 4:52 pm
Reply » 2
Lily Rowan

I do feel like the scammers usually have a more specific amount they ask for — doesn’t the commuter rail cost $14.75 or something?
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 5:00 pm
Reply » 1
Punk-assBookJockey

The more specific the details the more red flags go up. It was a Tumi backpack? I’m not the police, you know I don’t need these details. I wouldn’t think of it in the moment, but also, how does he work in the city and not have anyone who actually knows him around to help him out?
One time, I was on my way home from the bar with 5 or 10 bucks left in my pocket, because it was a cash only place. I never carry cash otherwise. I walked past a lady on the street who when we were probably 10 paces past each other to called out to me, hesitated a few seconds before she said she was leaving a bad situation and wondered if I had a few dollars so she could catch the bus. I believed her and I never believe anyone, and I had the cash so I gave her what I had in my pocket and she started crying. I didn’t know what else to do, but I was just glad I’d actually had something to give her.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 5:06 pm
Reply » 2
MollyAuden

About ten years ago, as an undergraduate, I was walking down the street in downtown Toronto on a warm, sunny afternoon. Suddenly, I saw a dozen yards ahead of me a large man wearing a nice business suit, and lying belly-down on the sidewalk. His clothes and his body position were so odd that some of those milling around him in rush-hour pace stopped to ask if he was all right. I, too, thought instinctively that he had fallen down or was injured. He didn’t seem homeless, or at least, I had never before or since seen a homeless man wear a nice business suit and lie down on his belly. When I approached the man, I, too, said, “do you need anything, sir?”

The man looked up at me from the pavement and said, with a mildly sarcastic tone, “do I need anything? yeah, a pizza and coke would be nice.” I immediately noticed two things: first, the wasn’t injured and hadn’t fallen down. He was “simply” begging for money in a nice-looking suit and while lying down on his stomach, to catch more people’s attention. And second, we were right outside a Pizza Pizza, a popular Canadian pizza chain.

Feeling embarrassed by his sarcastic tone, but more ashamed that I would not have stopped if he wasn’t so well-dressed, I walked into the Pizza Pizza and got him a slice of pepperoni pizza and coke. I think I was trying to prove to myself that I would help him even if he didn’t sound so grateful about it and that I shouldn’t judge. Maybe he really needed food and had none, and maybe he got that suit from the salvation army and was really homeless.

When I stepped outside with the pizza and coke, the man was now sitting up and talking on a flip cell phone while brushing away some of the pavement dust that had clung to his knees while he’d been lying down. I held out the pizza and coke to him, and he, still talking on his cell phone, simply motioned for me to put them down on the ground beside him, without saying anything or thanking me. I did so, feeling increasingly annoyed and perplexed by the whole situation. At that moment, another man standing next to him who seemed to be his friend, and who was considerably less well-dressed, grinned at me said in a whiny voice, “Miss? Will you get me a pizza and a coke too? Please? I’m hungry!”

I turned around and began walking away quickly, hearing the second man bursting into laughter behind me. I was really pissed. 7$ was a lot for me in those days. I had spent them thinking I was helping someone in need, and I felt I’d been had. But probably I was the jerk, only bothering to stop by him because he seemed like a “normal” guy in a suit, i.e. not your typical homeless guy. It was a point well-made. What kind of thank you did I expect, anyway?
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 5:12 pm
Reply » 2
EM

I’m from Vancouver– a tourist city with a very high population of panhandlers and folks with addictions to feed, and I am very used to long, detailed stories about why someone needs money for bus fare. As @Punk-assBookJockey said further up, the more details, the more I’m convinced it’s not true. Especially because people always start with “Are you from around here?” or “You look like a nice person, can you just listen to me for a minute?” or “I never do this, I swear, I live in ____ and I have a job as a ____ but I just had my bag stolen…” As soon as I hear those lines, I just think, NOPE.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 6:32 pm
Reply » 1
andnowlights

@EM There’s a guy here that asks for money around midtown (also a lot of tourists around). He claims he’s clean, that he’s a veteran, and that his bicycle was a birthday gift. The last two things may be true, but when you see that person later shooting up behind the convenience store, you only fall for that story once.
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 10:20 am
Reply » 0
honey cowl

MIKE! Nooooooo! Scam. And soooo gross.
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 8:09 pm
Reply » 0
hershmire

“Here’s 50 cents. Call one of your coworkers.”
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 9:24 pm
Reply » 3
tw0lle

Once I was on Delancey Street and someone stole my wallet (more precisely, I asked my friend to watch my bag while I went to the bathroom, so of course she immediately went outside to smoke a cigarette and left it alone in the bar, so of course someone stole my wallet). I didn’t realize this until I got down to the subway, at which point I realized that I had no way of getting home. So I stood outside the Delancey Street F station asking people for money to buy a single ride ticket. LOTS of people walked right by, thinking it was a scam, but finally I cornered a group of dudes who initially thought I was trying to flirt with them, and I gave them enough pathetic, specific information that one of them finally took pity on me and swiped me into the subway. If I hadn’t gotten desperate who knows how long it would’ve taken…
Posted on August 4, 2014 at 10:01 pm
Reply » 0
HRHbo

A similar thing happened to me one morning. A guy claiming he had to get to work at a wall street bank needed cab fare. I was highly suspicious of his story since he had pretty bad teeth but gave him two bucks to back off. Sure enough, a week later, not recognizing me, he approached me again for money. SMH
Posted on August 5, 2014 at 4:31 pm
Reply » 0
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Posted on August 5, 2014 at 9:57 pm 0

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Soccer Star Ezequiel Lavezzi Poses With Naked Vagina [NSFW]
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Soccer Star Ezequiel Lavezzi Poses With Naked Vagina [NSFW]

This is Argentina and Paris Saint-Germain player Ezequiel Lavezzi. According to one soccer reporter, Tancredi Palmeri, once-private pictures of the soccer player with a lady are now being circulated around the internet. They are below:

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Context? Dude, he's eating pussy!
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aaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha. Im crying right now in Starbucks. Oh man. Thank you.
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Posted on August 5, 2014 at 9:45 pm 0

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Cultural Comment
Cultural Comment
August 1, 2014
The Scourge of “Relatability”
By Rebecca Mead

Credit Photograph by Alex Majoli/Magnum.

If Twitter is a place in which a user may be rewarded for exposing his most stupid self, Ira Glass put the medium to good use this week, when, after watching John Lithgow appear as King Lear at the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park, he tweeted his response: “Shakespeare sucks.” Glass admired Lithgow’s performance but thought the play flawed. “No stakes, not relatable,” he wrote. Later, he tweeted that the productions of “Richard III” and “Twelfth Night” in which he had seen Mark Rylance perform last winter had affected him similarly: “fantastic acting, surprisingly funny, but Shakespeare is not relatable, unemotional.”

The suckiness or otherwise of Shakespeare is a topic that cannot be broached without generating considerable online outrage, and Glass later backtracked, telling Entertainment Weekly that his provocative comment was “kind of an off-the-cuff thing to say that in the cold light of day, I’m not sure I can defend at all.” What Glass didn’t rescind, though, was the yardstick by which he was judging the merit of Shakespeare’s work: whether the plays are “relatable.”

Perhaps that’s no surprise, because relatability—a logism so neo that it’s not even recognized by the 2008 iteration of Microsoft Word with which these words are being written—has become widely and unthinkingly accepted as a criterion of value, even by people who might be expected to have more sophisticated critical tools at their disposal. What was remarkable about Glass’s tweet wasn’t so much his judgment of Shakespeare’s merit but the fact that the Bard of Public Radio expressed himself like a resentful millennial filling out a teacher evaluation.

Whence comes relatability? A hundred years ago, if someone said something was “relatable,” she meant that it could be told—the Shakespearean sense of “relate”—or that it could be connected to some other thing. As recently as a decade ago, even as “relatable” began to accrue its current meaning, the word remained uncommon. The contemporary meaning of “relatable”—to describe a character or a situation in which an ordinary person might see himself reflected—first was popularized by the television industry. When Rosie O’Donnell launched her TV talk show in 1996, she said that she hoped to preserve time with her family. “It’s the stories about living your life that makes you relatable to your audience,” she said. In 2004, the critic Virginia Heffernan called “relatable” “a weird daytime [TV] word” and characterized it thus: “I thought the stock way daytime people become ‘relatable’ is by being older than starlets, with wider hips. They talk about dieting.”

That weird daytime word has jumped decisively to other realms of the arts and entertainment, like an interspecies contagion. Five years ago, Times writers resorted to “relatable” on only sixteen occasions in a twelve-month period. By last year, the newspaper’s reliance on “relatable” had surged: the word appeared in a hundred and sixteen articles in 2013. In the Times Book Review, the reviewer of Leila Sales’s Y.A. novel “This Song Will Save Your Life” observed that its heroine “is a mostly relatable misfit.” In a review of the movie “Blue Is the Warmest Color,” it was noted that a character’s “journey towards self-actualization is deeply relatable.” The term has appeared in the fashion pages (Han Kjøbenhavn’s clothes are “accessibly luxurious, relatable shapes done in rich fabrics in unexpected and beautiful colors”) and the sports columns (Andy Murray, the tennis player, is a “relatable underdog”).

Elsewhere, too, praise for relatability proliferates. Writing on the Web site The Millions, David Masciotra said that Karl Ove Knausgaard’s account of his teen-age pursuits—drinking beer, kissing girls, playing electric guitar—in the “My Struggle” novels is “universally relatable.” Goodreads, the peer-book-recommendation site, lists books designated by its users as “relatable”: they include the works of the Y.A. authors Rainbow Rowell and John Green, as well as several authors who were embraced by young adults well before that marketing category was coined (Sylvia Plath, Harper Lee, J.D. Salinger). A Web site called Thought Catalog offers “29 Incredibly Relatable Quotes from ‘Girls’ That Will Make Any 20-Something Feel Less Alone,” among them the following, from Hannah Horvath: “I’m an individual and I feel how I feel when I feel it.” Richard Linklater’s film “Boyhood” reduced Ann Hornaday of the Washington Post to tears because it allowed “viewers into the lives on screen not as specimens to be watched from a safe distance but as resonant, relatable touchstones of our own.” (That “Boyhood” has been almost universally hailed as a masterpiece, despite the banality of its plot and the cliché nature of much of its characterization, is due, in part, to the irresistible emotional power that lies in the harnessing of the passage of time, a passage that takes its toll upon all of us. The movie is the apotheosis of relatability.)

What are the qualities that make a work “relatable,” and why have these qualities come to be so highly valued? To seek to see oneself in a work of art is nothing new, nor is it new to enjoy the sensation. Since Freud theorized the process of identification—as a means whereby an individual develops his or her personality through idealizing and imitating a parent or other figure—the concept has fruitfully been applied to the appreciation of the arts. Identification with a character is one of the pleasures of reading, or of watching movies, or of seeing plays, though if it is where one’s engagement with the work begins, it should not be where critical thought ends. The concept of identification implies that the reader or viewer is, to some degree at least, actively engaged with the work in question: she is thinking herself into the experience of the characters on the page or screen or stage.

But to demand that a work be “relatable” expresses a different expectation: that the work itself be somehow accommodating to, or reflective of, the experience of the reader or viewer. The reader or viewer remains passive in the face of the book or movie or play: she expects the work to be done for her. If the concept of identification suggested that an individual experiences a work as a mirror in which he might recognize himself, the notion of relatability implies that the work in question serves like a selfie: a flattering confirmation of an individual’s solipsism.

To appreciate “King Lear”—or even “The Catcher in the Rye” or “The Fault in Our Stars”—only to the extent that the work functions as one’s mirror would make for a hopelessly reductive experience. But to reject any work because we feel that it does not reflect us in a shape that we can easily recognize—because it does not exempt us from the active exercise of imagination or the effortful summoning of empathy—is our own failure. It’s a failure that has been dispiritingly sanctioned by the rise of “relatable.” In creating a new word and embracing its self-involved implications, we have circumscribed our own critical capacities. That’s what sucks, not Shakespeare.

mead

Rebecca Mead joined The New Yorker as a staff writer in 1997.

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Posted on August 5, 2014 at 9:43 pm 0

On Ronnie James Dio, 1942-2010

@Matt Fuck now it's 6!

Posted on July 24, 2014 at 5:15 pm 0

On Ronnie James Dio, 1942-2010

@Matt Uh, I meant 8.

Posted on July 24, 2014 at 5:15 pm 0

On Ronnie James Dio, 1942-2010

Hey guys. Nine more comments to go!

Posted on July 24, 2014 at 5:14 pm 0

On Ronnie James Dio, 1942-2010

@Art Yucko an American alternative rock band from Annapolis, Maryland. They emerged through MTV as one of the first Post-Grunge bands of the era. Richard James Burgess has managed the band since 1994.

Posted on June 23, 2014 at 3:56 pm 0

On Ronnie James Dio, 1942-2010

Preceded by
Throwing Copper by Live Australian ARIA Albums Chart number-one album
September 24 – October 7, 1995 Succeeded by
Ballbreaker by AC/DC

Posted on June 23, 2014 at 3:26 pm 0

On Ronnie James Dio, 1942-2010

I like pleasure spiked with pain
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Songbird sweet and sour Jane
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Pleasure spiked with pain
That motherfucker's always spiked with pain

Looking in my own eyes
I can't find the love I want
Someone better slap me
Before I start to rust
Before I start to decompose
Looking in my rearview mirror
Looking in my rearview mirror
I can make it disappear
I can make it disappear
Have no fear

I like pleasure spiked with pain
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Songbird sweet and sour Jane
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Pleasure spiked with pain
That motherfucker's always spiked with pain

Sitting in my kitchen
Hey girl, I'm turning into dust again
My melancholy baby
The star of mazzy must
Push her voice inside of me
I'm overcoming gravity
I'm overcoming gravity
It's easy when you're sad to be
It's easy when you're sad, sad to be

I like pleasure spiked with pain
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Songbird sweet and sour Jane
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Pleasure spiked with pain

Just one note
Could make me float
Could make me float away
One note from the song she wrote
Could fuck me where I lay
Just one note
Could make me choke
One note that's not a lie
Just one note
Could cut my throat
One note could make me die

I like pleasure spiked with pain
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Songbird sweet and sour Jane
And music is my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane
Pleasure spiked with pain

It's my aeroplane
It's my aeroplane

Thanks to Heather for correcting these lyrics.

Posted on June 23, 2014 at 3:21 pm 0

On New York City, June 18, 2014

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on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.I feel like commenting culture—at least on smaller sites—was a more vibrant and substantive thing in the late ‘00s and early ‘10s.

Posted on June 20, 2014 at 5:27 pm 0