Fuck whatcha heard, who's the best in New York?

Fulfilling fantasies without that nigga Mr. Rourke?

A little Biggie Smalls to get shake the cobwebs out.

Having been unable to unload Yankees tickets to anybody on the street for free, I decided that the best way to dispose of them would be to use them myself. After a week in which I did the most soul-searching I had ever done in my life, I decided that it would be exactly what I needed.

As I sat in the upper tier, staring contently at the diamond majesty of Yankee Stadium, I realized I was using new eyes. Most of the last week and two days had been spent in a vaporous stupor, not actually moving so much as finding myself in places. I would awake and find my body walking down streets during work hours, not lost, but out of control. The skipper had jumped into the sea and there was no one driving the boat. Then, in a final fit of epiphanic convulsion, I was violently thrust through a membrane, and through that threshold was shed five years of sorrow. Any comedian knows that there's time to retire a bit. My self-hatred bit started as just that. A bit meant to be charming. As time plodded along, the bit grew and enveloped me. Rather than do what is NECESSARY to grab hold of my life, I hid under the bit. I ended up convincing myself that I was an ugly nobody. Well, that ain't charming, Jack, and nobody's impressed. I even convinced the person I loved most in the world. And now she's gone.




Sitting in these steep heavens, at these Olympian heights, the world around me drew to a sharp focus. Thanks to quantum mechanics, we learn that our world doesn't change around us. We change our world. At long last, I'm back in my body and it feels good to be here. I watched four plastic bags dancing in the air, high above the heads of the players. A gentle waltz happening concurrently with the sporting struggle below. I turned to Mike Sanzone and remarked, "that's actually kind of beautiful." And it was. And I made it so for myself.

But, Mikey Sanzone blew my mind by smoking a cigarette, a scene so strange that the only other image more bizarre would be my mother holding her own cock.