Travelin'

Hoboken is also America’s leading supplier of Methadone, the popular local treat that comes in a small paper cup. It’s about enough to stave off your cravings for heroin, but then again, what isn’t? Shit, brother, have you tried the Quizno’s Cold Turkey method? It’s exactly what you think it is. A cold turkey sandwich instead of heroin. I swear to God it works. 

Listen, Brother, you don’t look like the kind of guy that needs this kind of stuff. I’ve got some reaaaaaaaal Hydromorphone pills - synthetic H, am I right, hombre? Look, just pull into the McDonald’s parking lot and I’ll meet you there in - what - half an hour? My name’s Craig, by the way. You got a match? I lost my lighter. This jacket, man. This fucking jacket. I slept underneath this fucking thing since ‘98, man. Hell I love livin’ out here. When was the last time you ever work up with the sun, eh brother? I like you. You’re a good guy. This’ll all be $60, by the way. Can you drive me to a payphone, brother? Thanks, brother. 

Hoboken is the birthplace of baseball. Also the birthplace of the excuse “I fell down the stairs”. Also the birthplace of the broken highball glass after slamming it down on the table for effect. Also birthplace for the chilling realization that you are becoming your own emotionless, cold, shadow of a human being that was your father. Also the the birthplace of staring at your hands, wondering which fork in the road got your into this mess. Also the birthplace of waking up in a dark room with a duvet cover over the window, you have no idea what time it is, hell, it could be five in the morning. You peek outside. It’s the mid afternoon. Also the birthplace of looking at the ceiling contemplating suicide. Also the birthplace of circling convenience stores in your Nissan because GOD knows you just want to FEEL something, ANYTHING. Also the birthplace of the Barnes & Nobles parking lot where you broke down crying. Also the birthplace of the same recurring dream where you’re chasing yourself, you’re running away, you can only see the back of you, and you’re chasing yourself to the end of a long pier, and then at the end of the pier you turn around to see your own face, and you have no face, who are you? Who are you anymore? What is this cold black universe? We are all monkeys with money and guns. Nothing means anything anymore. 

Hoboken is also the birthplace of Frank Sinatra. 

Travelin’ Goes To Hoboken!

Welcome to Hoboken, New Jersey, a city of around 40,000 people with around 5,000 Hobos circulating throughout the city at any one time. This rampant homelessness has been present in the city since it’s founding in the late 1600’s.

The term Hobo was coined when a man without residence became well known in the metropolitan New York area. When asked from wence he had came he then replied, Hoboken. Then it spread that he was a Hobo from Hoboken. It then became a widely used term to describe the homeless. According to a local custom since 1790, it is regarded as a norm to kill a hobo upon entering the city limits. This is where the town gets its name, shortening what was once called “Hobo Killing On-The-Green” to the familiar “Hoboken”.