Dear Diary,

Dear Diary,

It's late-night Saturday very early Sunday and I find myself ravaging the pages of the Metropolitan Diary, pretty much the greatest thing to ever exist. I could be exaggerating, but my feeble early Sunday brain is turned on, so who knows? In brief explanation, an excerpt:

The season of black down jackets is here. Long, short, puffy and slim. Some with designer labels, others from Kohl’s. They keep you warm but keep you on your toes. When you are leaving home, the jacket you pull from the closet feels tight. Because it’s your wife’s. Outside, you think you recognize a friend, but it’s just another black figure bundled in down.

It's a diary cataloguing the humorous and significant memoirs of city-dwellers in metropolises around the world (but predominantly NY), and it's pretty damn great. From diet water to a moment of appreciation prepared by temporal and spatial differences, it is the penultimate diary of the people written by the people for the people.Take a look. Metropolitan Diary