Sunsets from 12 Stories Above The Street

I've started to try to appreciate the simpler things in life. I recently read an article about how the French can take 10 minutes to eat a single piece of chocolate. And while I'm not trying to mold myself into a cheese-eating, surrender monkey (kidding, I just really like that nickname), I think there's something to it.

However, as long as I'm talking about the French, here's a funny way to waste 20 seconds: Go to Google. Type "french military victories" and hit I'M FEELING LUCKY. Enjoy.

So as I was saying, I'm trying to pay more attention to my senses. I take my time with chocolate now too. Also, I've begun to... ah, well let's see. What else do I do? I know I do other stuff now. I eat choc-- no, already mentioned that chocolate thing. Well, there was this time that this girl and I-- no, that's not appropriate. Damn it, I thought there was more stuff. This is, well, this is slightly embarrassing now. I knew I wanted to lead with the chocolate example, but now that I'm here I just feel a need to keep typing thinking that a new idea would come to mind and clearly that's not happening so at this point I should probably change the subject in hopes that no one has noticed that my grammar punctuation and aversion to run-on sentences have regressed slightly and suddenly this more of a question of stamina than anything else and a contest that no one else besides me is playing called "Who Can Keep Typing Without Stopping Never Stop You Sonofabitch Never Fucking Stop" that tests nothing other than the apparent diarrhea of my brain and oh god someone please give me a reason to end this sentence with something interesting and surprising and entertaining and--

(The phone rings. I need to take this. A friend just invited me to North Carolina to see The Rolling Stones. Perfect, that'll do.)

So maybe all of that stuff I said before is merely a bad excuse to eat more chocolate. Especially dark chocolate.

[Moving on] Aside from justifying my own gluttony, I've found a great way to decompress on those days when I can escape from work at a decent time. Reading the newspaper on the roof of my building has really become one of the best parts of my day (at least on weekdays that don't rhyme with Fursday or Thriday). And while we're all going to ignore what that says about the remainder of my normal activities, it has become a nice unspoken pleasure. Hot girls in bikinis don't really hurt the situation either. But may I say something to these ladies for a moment? YOU CAN'T GET TAN WHEN THE SUN IS BELOW THE HORIZON! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING UP HERE?? HOW DID YOUR PARENTS NOT EAT YOU WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG?

When I think to do it, I bring my camera up there too, in hopes that the smog that collects in pollution-riddled wasteland called Jersey (named after small African bugs that eat garbage and human feces for survival-- look it up, I know you won't) can refract the low-angled sunlight in such a way as to color the sky for a pretty kick-ass sunset.

Fortunately, tonight was pretty decent:

Amber Dusk

Looking West