Moving out of an apartment is intellectual hell on someone who wishes they had the discipline to be a Buddhist*.

If you’re expecting some kind of finality from this post, then you’ve probably not been paying very close attention to what I’ve written up to this point.

But here’s what I’ve gained from this blog:

Increased bitterness.

Decreased willingness to leave my bedroom.

People are selective about the reality they expose themselves to.

I’m really sick of spending so much time around people aged 18-22. Not that being 18-22 means anything specifically about you–some of my best friends are 18-22. But there’s definitely some weird correlation going on between those ages and wearing leggings as pants, shouting rude things at strangers, and missing the hypocrisy of your own Y.O.L.O.’s.

Sometimes, grad school sounds shittier than manual labor.

Last night, I was perched on the railing of my stoop, just trying to enjoy my last night in town for a few months, watching the stars and enjoying a temperature just right for a flannel and jeans. Some guy walked into the alley–the alley where I was sitting on my stoop–and started peeing on the house across the asphalt from me.

“C'mon, man. Don’t do that.”

“I had to go, man.”

“I know, but c'mon.”

At this point, I tried to let it go, but his friends caught up to him on their way uptown to the bars, and one of them stopped to relieve himself out at the edge of the yard of the house his friend was peeing on.

“Real men pee on the sidewalk,” he said to his friend. With a little aim, he could’ve hit the fire hydrant on the corner.

“Are you fucking kidding me, guys?” I asked.

I don’t remember the specifics of the conversation, but I know I told them to fuck off, and then the sidewalk pisser threatened to make me look better by smashing my face into the fire hydrant until his buddy forced him to leave.

“Have a nice night!” I wished after them.

Colleges towns are a great place to enjoy arrested development**. It’s all the liberty of adulthood with just the technicalities of responsibility. Pay your bills, don’t burn your house down, pass your classes. Aside from that, you can treat people, places, and things like total shit.

And if anyone tries to confront you about pissing on the sidewalk, threaten to fuck them up, because you’re a real man, dammit. And real men piss on the sidewalk…as long as they make sure there’s no cops around.

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*I.e., “LOOK: IT’S ALL YOUR THINGS. AREN’T THEY NICE? YOU MUST BE SO HAPPY BECAUSE OF ALL THE THINGS YOU HAVE.”

**Am I the only one who thinks Mitchell Hurwitz really nailed it when he named that show?

12:15 am • 9 June 2012