The World According to the Window on the Left

This is a picture of a Sunflower on my window ledge. Hopefully warding away miserable, elderly Italian men with its happiness. It's the view from the left window of my apartment. This image is so beautiful I wish I had a poem or caption to go with this picture. I'll write one now.

"Reflection: a haiku"
Flower do you see
There are two of you. Act'chly
three, if you count the reflection, right?


"Another Haiku For Serious This Time: a haiku"
You look like a sun
or wait, no, what is it? an
anus with petals

Jokes That Never Get Old

I realized my last post wasn't truly about the North End. It happened in the North End, but excuses, excuses.

Here is an adventure I had about a year ago in Mike's Pastry. I had taken pictures, but never developed them from my disposable camera.
Mike's Pastry is a pastry shop with Italian pastries of the delicious varietal. It's always very busy. Lines out the door.

This is a picture of a cake my friend Adam and I bought when we were blasted.
As we purchased the Boston Cream, the woman at the counter said, "what do you want on it?"
To which we looked at her, looked at each other, and Adam said, "chocolate."
She didn't mean chocolate.
"What do you mean?" I said to lady.
"We write something on it."
"How much does that cost?"
"It's free."
Adam and I consulted each other.
just a dick. just a dick. Haha. No way. something inappropriate but won't get us in trouble.
"POOP!" I screamed.
"Pardon me?"
"Poop," I clarified for the woman, "I want it to say poop."
"Can you write that down."

I wrote "POOP". Adam conceded however that there should be a "!"
"I agree."



Poop we wanted, and so it did say.

I think I just wrote a cheesy, educational video

I'm going to include you all in what I'm doing because every time I talk to my mother she tells me, "Communication is the key, Nathan. Communication is everything."
Regardless of what were discussing. Her advice on relationships, school, life, blablabla - always "Communication".
For all I know, her endless talk about it could have been the catalyst that piqued my interest in the subject, leading to my choice of Major in college, which will subsequently lead to a lifetime of being broke, without a marketable skill to my name. So when I'm a waiter at T.G.I.Fridays in 1o years, I'll know who to thank...ma.
Communicate on that.

Anyway, without a job, a lot of time, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge (though mostly with a lot of time) I decided to teach myself Organic Chemistry and Spherical Trigonometry.

I wanted to include you all in my learning experience. I found a free book online teaching spherical trigonometry! How fucking excited are you?!
So find your balls, whip out your protractors, and lets find the right angle. Hey yo!

Also, let's keep this under wraps because if there was ever a reason for a high school jock to beat you up. This is it. Don't go trying to find the circumference of his sports equipment. And if you do, don't tell him that you just needed to measure his balls... especially while he's kicking your ass. That is no time for communication.

Thank you


A Brief Illustration of Spheres



Metal testicular implants.




Behold...the future.




The spirit of a generation.*


*P.s. I tried to blot out the non-spherical portion of this man's anatomy, hopefully making it less inappropriate. It turned out looking like he came all over her hand, making it doubly as inappropriate.

The North End can stick it up its South End.

I was caught red-handed.
I had distributed chowder among guests at Legal Sea Foods without making them pay for it. The managers do it, why shouldn't I?
"Meet me downstairs," my manager sternly told me in the middle of my shift.
"We are very disappointed. Where is that check for the table with chowder?"
"There isn't a check. It's chowder."
"Stealing is stealing, Nathan. We fire people for things like this. It would be a shame to have to fire you over chowder."
Yes, I thought, it would also look like poor management.
"You're suspended for three days. We'll see you Wednesday at 9 am. We'll see whether you still have a job here or not."

Wednesday morning came. I woke up at 7. I pressed my pants, my shirt, and cleaned my dress shoes. I arrived 10 minutes early to give the impression I care. At which point, 25 minutes later, at 9:15, my manager sat me down.
"I think you saw this coming. At this juncture I think we'll be parting ways."
I wasn't sure if I was fired or if he was sending me on vacation. I looked down at my clothes. Everything was clean and pressed. If I had foresaw my termination, wouldn't I have chosen anything else? Gym shorts and flip flops, maybe?
No, he was firing me. Over chowder. But he didn't even fire me. We were just parting ways. Like old friends who move to different parts of the country.

More North End updates include, but are not limited to:

1.) Drive by Drunken water bottle fights. Never fuck with the North End Gang.
Yes, there's a gang. Fighting for creamier cannolis and bigger pizza slices worldwide. "North End" is tattooed lengthwise down their for arm. Like this:
N
O
R
T
H
(space)
E
N
D

2.) Self- destructive watermelons. Have you ever seen a watermelon spontaneously explode? It's cause you don't live with me.
This is what it looked like after I was forced to dispose of the ticking time bomb, which was only after it hissed and foamed at us.



You can see where it was foaming right above the watermelons heart which was projected onto the oven pan.

3.) Patty works at Galleria 33. She's really nice and almost 60 years old.