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Life, especially in New York, is this constant river of sensations that often make absolutely no sense at all. It just blasts past, washing over us like a giant garden hose squirting from the hand of an indifferent God. Sometimes it knocks us flat, sometimes it bends us backwards, but most of all when we can get our heads up above this constant river, we can see how it sparkles in the sun, feel how it’s helping us grow.

That squirting hose, the dirt, all the dandelions and blades of grass around us, they’re all stories. And as you well know, the best stories are fertilized with a pinch of some amazing shit that always starts with “And I am NOT lying…”