New York makes my fingernails dirty. I had one of those visits that, while a good time, made me glad I didn't live there. I think I decided it somewhere inbetween the dirty finger nails, various scents of garbage wafting from the sidewalks and the random guy running into the bathroom with a bleeding hand at the house-party in Brooklyn. I'm not cut out for it. I prefer to spend my nights eating popcorn and listening to Magnetic Fields while writing about how I dont want to live in New York.