I don't have time to deal with you; certainly I don't have time to deal with you tonight. The lobby at the Pine Street Inn closes at 9:00 p.m. and everyone is supposed to sleep at that time, and there are things that I have to do before then, and they get us up at 6:00 a.m. every morning.
The Boston Globe freaked out today about you being in New York over the weekend. I didn't even know that you were until a few hours ago.
There are a lot of reasons that someone would want to spend time in New York City. I think it was the book "The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy" that described that city as being a place where you couldn't have more fun without electrocuting yourself. I feel like I'm not saying that right; I'm sure you understand what I mean.
I really don't want to date a celebrity. Even if you were much nicer than you are, I do not want to date celebrities. I also would rather that the conglomerate not continue to speculate about why you are in New York. It was not my decision for you to go to New York; I had nothing to do with it.
Your being there is an opportunity for the conglomerate to torture me, while you passive-aggressively blog post about me during the day and go out every night in a city of millions of beautiful young women, many of whom will be trying to find you. You'll be getting all sorts of positive attention from the conglomerate while I get blamed for whatever happens to your relationship with your girlfriend.
The harassment and stalking of me in Boston will increase because of the conglomerate's behavior toward me.
Copyright L. Kochman, December 14, 2015 @ 8:51 p.m.
