Evening. Perfect summer breeze. I just saw an old man dragging a 1990's style television set behind him, by the chord, like a pet rock. Screen side facing down on the pavement.

Well I'm back. Love/hate relationship with New York? I guess so. When I first arrived at JFK a few days before New Year's Eve I shed a little tear to see the dirty airport bathrooms and the plethora of diverse races all in one place. I love New York. When I got in a long line to refill my subway card because only one machine was working, I almost relished bitching to the MTA worker about it and laughed a little underneath my bitch face.  God, I missed this.  But the questions is this: I'm back and now what?   I've been looking for work for over a month and have been sleeping on a couch for just as long. Did I make the right choice by coming back here? Is the reason for my doubt just because I'm staying so far into the Bronx that I'm almost in Connecticut? Or is that feeling of eternal loneliness that only New York can give you starting to wash over me? Anyway, it's been approximately fifty one days since I've arrived and I've never felt so completely lost about where I belong.