I'm loving my first home delivery of the New Yorker, which explains this week's lack of underground blogging on my morning commute. This week I've learned about the situation in Sri Lanka, taking me back to my freshman year at Stuyvesant when I interned at am immigration lawyer's office and used a real typewriter, the artist behind the cover art of Kanye's new album, the sad failure of urban planning that is Roosevelt Island, the marginalization of labor unions, and a way of understanding human consciousness that is mindblowing but completely intuitive.
Did you know that recognizing the difference between the sound of the letter P and the sound of the letter B engages up to 22 different parts of the brain? I'm fascinated.
I'm sitting in a freezing Chinatown bus which finally loaded up after half an hour of waiting. Dinner at 10 at Five Points, where the appetizer, dessert, and drink menus impress one after the other. I'll be late for NoHo.
These 2 weeks in January have been very busy, very cold, very chatter filled. So far, so good.
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