My New Commute thinks I’m a sloppy dresser and wants me to improve. It suggests a pair of knee-high boots, or a quirkier pair of eyeglasses. My New Commute, hypocritical in its stance against wardrobe safety blankets, would be especially pleased if I stopped wearing the same black skirt every 2-3 days.
If I play my cards right each day, My New Commute saves a seat for me. My New Commute tends to save that seat next to an old Asian man who likes to tie his produce bag to the seat rail with a shoelace and ten knots, effectively blocking me in. My New Commute laughs while I try to free myself. Usually, I laugh too.
My New Commute would prefer that I listen to my ipod at an acceptable volume for others, as my new morning commute doesn’t particularly care for the likes of Diane Cluck or that one Editors song on repeat. My New Commute wants me read, but instead makes jokes about my illiteracy amongst the others who faithfully bring their books.
My New Commute hates to be compared to the Old Commute, and would like me to inform you just how much more respectable it is than its predecessor. While both Commutes host their fair share of residents from Electric Crazyland, My New Commute has a lower tolerance for the be-fecaled and shopping carts.
With 9 stops between my front door and office, My New Commute loves to lure the possibility of new people and their friendship in front of my face. Conveniently, My New Commute separates me from the most interesting subjects with thick glass and swift doors, leaving all hope behind on the platform as it whisks me away to the next station.
Wanting to appear useful, My New Commute puts on an advertisement each day for all the new shops, salons and markets I could now call my own. My New Commute wants to make a Giants fan out of me, and wouldn’t mind if I wanted to enjoy the big gaudy mall downtown. My New Commute wants to interest me in spray tanning, secondhand clothing and ugly European furniture as well.
In rolling carelessly by the homes and workplaces of old loves/enemies, My New Commute would like to trigger memories and spawn daydreams — but in the end, My New Commute is just an insensitive bastard who likes to toy with my mind.Read More