Poisoned water. Poisoned water is everywhere and it gets worse than Flint if you go past the Catskills. The Catskills are a saint. I don’t even pray but I bug them for protection. They stand there cascading sparkling safety into fugazi wooden tanks that dot advantaged Manhattan roofs, which I savor taking for granted. I’m pansexual but I don’t think your tractor is sexy. I … Continue reading (Things I don’t understand which I have no excuse for not understanding because Google) Or: Reasons I can’t leave New York by Craig Kite