As most of you probably know from the bits and pieces that have past backwards and forwards on Jammy Toast, I live in New York. I live in a three-bedroomed apartment with my best friend in this whole world, Natalie. Similar to the way Silent Bob refers to Jay, she is my asexual life-mate. We have known each other for more years than I would care to remember and during that time we have had rows and fallings out but we always come round and one or both of us will apologies for our behaviour afterwards. We have never been romantically attached, I love her like I would love a sister. We take each other for granted, sometimes when we possibly shouldn’t but what friends don’t? Then five years ago she came and told me she was going to die.
Ihave always been one of those rare birds in New York who drives a car. It usually takes twice as long as taking the subway but at least I don’t have to wear my bus pants. This might explain why I have always had a fascination for the subway. If only I had kept a diary of my exploits I would probably have been able to write a book right about now. Back in the day I used to take a daily commute on #2 into the World Trade Centre. I think that subway car is the only place on this planet where you can rub shoulders with company chairmen, politicians, electricians, traders, actors, singers, musicians, artists, construction workers and fashion models all in the same place.