I hit ‘random article’ on Wikipedia and then rant about whatever I see. This week: the North Philadelphia SEPTA Broad Street Line station.Are you fucking kidding me? This shit sucks.
As anyone from literally any other major metropolitan area on the East Coast can tell you, Philly sucks. And not even that kind of suck you see guys trying to get girls to do (which is the good kind) but the fucked up lame kind of suck like that time that your brother blew out the candles on your birthday cake and you cried and your dad was all like “No crying asshole” and took away your toys and that was your ninth birthday and no one cares about that. That kind of suck.
So apparently this is a train line. Like people get on trains here and shit? That’s lame. There’s a general tension with places like this, because their function is to be some sort of way station. You are not introducing these places to your parents, but if you were feeling really drunk and lonely you’d consider taking one home with you. They are temporary.
We all find ourselves at metaphorical stations. In places we can’t convince ourselves to stay unless our friend Dov said we could stay with him and then he’s like “Oh no my girlfriend hates you because you always smoke in our bedroom and hog all the sheets” even though it only happened like one time THE FUCKING POINT IS that you can’t stay at North Philadelphia (SEPTA Broad Street Line station). Police officers will tell you to vacate the station.
But have you seen it? It’s tiny. It’s also on the orange line, which is like a pretty whack line according to my intuition.
It also connects to Route 54. Wow. Cool beans. Good fucking job.
Literally the coolest thing about this shit is that SEPTA kinda sounds like septic which really helps get the whole “Philly is shit” idea across. “Our city is so shitty we call our public transportation line the SEPTIC line.” Way to go, assholes.
I’m not going to lie to you guys, okay, this is an unexciting place. It is unexciting because there is literally no excitement here. I guarantee that buskers make no money here because this place is shitty. It doesn’t look cool, like that girl who puts on a lot of make up but it’s kind of giving her face that shiny effect which makes you want to take a napkin and pat it down on her face like you are trying to remove some amount of grease from a slice of pizza.
Here’s the thing: you’re never gonna get the grease off the pizza. It is a dangerous fucking game, getting grease off of pizzas. These girls are trying to get something specific, which is the grease off of pizzas.
Dov’s girlfriend once tried to convince me that I think too much about shit like this but honestly fuck her, and fuck him for fucking her because that guy used to not give a shit if I just hung out and played banjo on his bed and smoked all day but now he’s changed.
I understand that he’s really trying to get his shit together but I really just want things to go back to the way they were before he got that girlfriend. I just want Dov to be Dov again.
It’s always like this with your friends, you can be bums and assholes and it works for a while but then one of you decides to grow up and then it all goes to shit and you realize that it was always kinda shitty to begin with.
I guess what I’m really trying to say is that you have to be able to change. You have to understand that who you were and who your friends were isn’t who you are and who your friends are. If you spend your whole life trying to grasp on to the past then it’ll just slip through your fingers and get away.
To quote Ōuchi Yoshitaka, “We are but drops of dew, bolts of lightning.” To dwell too long on our problems is to waste the precious moments that we have in this fleeting existence.
Also fuck Wikipedia, this whole fucking page is bullshit and nobody gives a fuck about some random-ass train station in Philadelphia a.k.a. “The City of Shit” a.k.a. “FUCKadelphia” a.k.a. seriously though Philly sucks.
Simon is also the genius behind the blog “Some Children Left Behind,” a resplendent collection of literature and poetry.