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TXTS ON THE TRAIN |
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by Antonius Wiriadjaja
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1:30 |
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We are hostages on the express. 'I may not love you,' he preached, 'but I won't let you go to hell. Trust me. I went from crack to jesus.' 12:46 AM October 17, 2007
The old gram scooted over to offer her a seat. 'No,' she snarled. Gram whispered & her friend smiled. I learned how to say bitch in Tagalog. 01:28 AM November 06, 2007
'Judge not lest ye be judged, reverend. You don't know me.' 'Whoo,' said the preacher. 'PMS. I smell it on your ass, sister.' 12:59 AM November 09, 2007
I couldn't tell she was a bearded woman until she asked her granddaughter to read the lotto tickets. Each # was muffled with the pacifier. 01:12 AM November 13, 2007
He asked to get on it, but afterward the look on that 9 year old in the shopping cart tells me he just learned about shame. We keep staring. 04:50 AM January 13, 2008
They tapped their high heels as I tried a 2nd swipe in Penn Station. I let them pass, and tapped my sneaks as they tip toed down the stairs. 02:35 AM January 16, 2008
I couldn't tell if that wonderful smell came from the Crown Fried Chicken under the station, or from the dead pigeon on the third rail. 04:11 AM January 19, 2008
Climbing the subway steps I could smell the urine beneath her skirt. She stepped gingerly in her mink coat & didn't let me pass. Her fetish. 11:40 PM January 28, 2008
Antonius Wiriadjaja is an insomniac living in NYC. Every night he sends a text message to Quartertosleep.com to record the day's adventures in 140 characters or less.
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