525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? Measure in love. Remember the love.
I thought and thought and thought about what I should do to commemorate this date. I couldnít think anything satisfactory, I almost decided to do nothing.
But, I am a huge narcissist. I couldnít possibly let this momentous event pass by without using it to somehow inflate my already huge ego. Then I thought better of that, and decided to give back to all my loyal readers, since they are the ones who makes this all happen.
I decided Iíd go back through the archives, find all the times I used the phrase ďto be continuedĒ and actually finish the stories that I never actually continued.
no one fights here without a reason
Cripes. This was supposed to be a story about a bar fight. I ended up writing four posts (this is one of them) and never actually got to the fight. After four posts, I donít think I could bring myself to write another word about Thumbs East.
This was a three part series retelling the events of three days on the New York subway. On day one I got accused of playing with myself while rubbing up against a fellow passenger. On day two I sat across from a mom breast feeding her toddler, who then proceeded to rip his momís shirt off when he was removed from her teat.
I never got to day three. Why? It wasnít as interesting a story. After the first two days anything else would have seemed just boring. But, in the interest of tying up loose ends, Iíll sum it up as quickly as possible.
My trip home from work involved transferring from one train to another. One evening I was followed from one train to the other. Well, not exactly followed, so much as that me and this woman happened to be on one train, sitting across from each other, and then on a second train, sitting across from each other again. Considering how many people transfer at that station (51st and Lex) it is kind of weird to end up close to someone you were near on another train. But the truly weird part was that this woman was staring at me the entire time.
People donít usually stare at each other in New York; it could get you killed. I couldnít understand why this woman was watching me so intently. When I got home I checked to see if I had dirt on my face, a spinach leaf or a pubic hair in my teeth, or something, but it wasnít anything like that.
Now, I donít think of myself as an extremely attractive person. But when I relayed this story to someone else, they said this woman must have thought I was hot. That never occurred to me, which is probably why I have such trouble getting dates. A woman can stare at me intently for 20 minutes and the only thing I can think about is something must be wrong.
See, I told you, a boring story.
dreamt is too a word
I was going to talk about I dream I had. Instead, I got distracted and spent the entire post talking about something stupid and unrelated. Iíd relay the content of the dream, but it is a dream long ago forgotten. I wasnít going to mention it at all, but it made me realize exactly how off topic I can get sometimes.
When I sit down, I always have a story in my head. I try to stay focused and get the story I sat down with written. But something pops up to force me off the highway onto some dirt road that eventually comes to a dead end at a cabin deep in the Appalachian Mountains where 14 people (all with the suffix ďBobĒ attached to their first name), 23 dogs (8 of which only have 3 legs), and 2 roosters live. It may make for an interesting detour, but before the night is through, 9 times out of 10, there will be an old redneck pointing a shotgun at your head unless you agree to marry his 12 year-old daughter.
*Ahem* Where was I?
the most beautiful girl in the world
I canít imagine what else I had to say about this girl. Since seeing her the one time I havenít seen her again. And while New York is a big place, Iím surprised I havenít seen her. Considering how often I ride the subway and how few ďnon-regularsĒ would be taking the trip to my less than glamorous neighborhood it is more than likely weíd meet again. Or rather meet for the first time since I never said a word to her.
Iíve since come to believe she was merely a figment of my imagination, as no one could actually be that attractive.
Well. There are plenty more examples, but this is already more reminiscing than I can bear for one day. I hope you all feel some sort of closure, because I just feel tired. In closing: remember the love.
I think, like all truly important things, a year should be measured in inches.
by space at October 3, 2001 9:29 PM
Actually, I prefer centimeters as it makes things seem longer than they really are. Not that I need to make anything sound longer than it really is. Everything I have is plenty long.
by mg at October 3, 2001 9:30 PM
OH Man...haha...well I liked the post..
by Pristine at October 4, 2001 12:44 AM
What a cool idea. And congratulations on ONE YEAR! hey, that would of been a really interesting train story if the breastfeeding mom had been staring at you intently as you played with yourself. Ha! I love comment systems. You can say things you'd never blog yourself.
by Charles at October 4, 2001 1:22 AM
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear BS
Happy birthday to you
I don't know the rest.
by Max at October 4, 2001 4:51 PM
Mg, I love you all the more for the fact that you just quoted RENT. :):):)
by snaggle at October 4, 2001 10:17 PM
pesonally i`ve never seen the play. but my school sang the song ''525,600 minutes''
and everyone loves it, including me. My schools name is Lester.B. Pearson School for the Arts, in London, ON, Canada. And I can`t tell you how much it has inspired us, and helped us through the tough times.
by Rachel at November 5, 2005 4:14 PM
i absolutely love this song and the whole movie was good its one of my favorite musicals
by Amilya at December 25, 2005 6:34 PM
i think a year shuold be measured in season of loves
by blahblah at March 17, 2006 6:13 PM