Anonymity.

I think that what makes New York so different is a feeling of anonymity.  Even if you were to do something silly like, say, wear bright yellow panties under a sheer white dress, no one would bat an eyelash.

OR WOULD THEY?

I SEE YOU.

However, I’m not in New York right now, taking inappropriate pictures of perfectly nice, unwisely clad pedestrians.  And I’m not here either:


I am here:

Portsmouth, Ohio.
This is the first google image, and it’s accurate.

What’s that you say?  You’ve never heard of Portsmouth, Ohio?  You obviously missed the recent A&E Special, Intervention In-Depth: Hillybilly Heroin.  It’s ok, I watched the Buffy marathon instead too–before the vampire porn that is True Blood, all we had was Buffy and Spike, and they were hotter.

Anyway, Portsmouth is on the DEA’s top 10 list for prescription pill trafficking.  However, Portsmouth also has a Tim Horton’s, which, by my standards, makes it an above average place to vacation.  It also has other distractions, some of which fill me with feelings.

THINGS IN PORTSMOUTH THAT MAKE ME FEEL:

1) Sadness. A sickly fry.  I hate to waste fried food.

2) Confusion/Elation. WHAT DOES IT MEAN I WANT IT.

3) Gifted. A former art project of mine–though much more recent than you think (mankind did have opposable thumbs when this was forged).
Ten imaginary dollars if you can guess what it is.

HUGE HINT
: It is not a screaming glow worm.

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