I like it when people notice my Wu-Tang shirt on the street and call me out on it. I try to do it every time I see a Wu shirt out and about, and it’s sometimes returned, sometimes not. I don’t know why I do it, and I probably appear like a horribly poserish fanboy to a decent number of the people I call out on their shirts, but I will persevere nonetheless. I was longboarding to work tonight and I heard the guy behind me yell “Wu Tang!” as I had just passed him, and I turned around and gave him the W handsign. It’s fun, I think.
I was also at the Chelsea pier today, because it was warm for the first time in a while – I was walking around in my t-shirt and everything was awesome. I mentioned on Twitter yesterday that I was standing around outside in between classes and smiling at people who were walking by. That is true, and it was also very nice. I’m attempting to refrain from doing nothing but complaining here on Fridays about how difficult it is to have two five-hour tech shifts in one day, although the temptation certainly exists. I get next to nothing done on Fridays because I’m at Steinhardt all day hanging around and “being a tech” – I just come home at night really really tired. But enough of that.
I have a sweet awesome rad Andrew WK shirt coming in the mail (hopefully tomorrow), and I’m going to write my friend Monica another letter tonight. Letter writing is a very nice thing to do if you have the discipline and interest to actually sit down and write a letter. I’ve been exchanging letters with Monica since I graduated high school and left her in Downingtown, and it’s continued on and off while she’s been on a year off in France. It’s a great way to communicate with a good friend, especially if you’re like me and you don’t have a facebook account anymore. I do it on and off with a few others as well. It’s nice.
That whole thing started when I had a massive crush on this girl in high school and I got it in my head that it would be totally awesome to just tell her that I thought she was beautiful – not just that I thought she was, but I was phrasing it in my head like it was an objectively self-evident fact. I’d leave English class every day in the second half of senior year thinking I was about to do it and then not doing it, and it got all the way down to graduation. There was a moment when I totally could have, and the fact that I chickened out and didn’t do it is one of my biggest regrets to this day. All I can say is, if you ever have this impulse, DO IT. The regret is not worth it. But I felt horrible about not telling this girl that she was amazingly pretty, so I wrote her a letter that night explaining that I wasn’t trying to hit on her or “pick her up” or anything, but that I just wanted to tell her she was “a babe” (that’s not what I said in the letter, I just like the expression these days). She didn’t respond for several months, but it eventually did happen, and we exchanged about three letters back and forth last year, from Ursinus to NYU. She still hasn’t responded to the letter I sent her about a year ago. But it’s all good. I’m glad I acted on that impulse in some small way.
So that’s why I write letters now. It’s grown on me since that initial exchange. Right now I cannot stop listening to very heavy music, and I’m sure that will have some effect on the nature of the letter I’m about to write. Also, Nike Dunks SBs are so hot on my feet. I want some sandals.