Sunday, October 31, 2010

A Bridge

I'll give you one guess:

I'm happy with it if you're happy with it. I mean, I think it's alright if you think so. I mean, if you don't like it I can always take another.

No, I like this one just the way it is. I won't go changing to try to please you.

So it's Halloween, and you feel like dancin'...

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Between Steps

There is a path. It's not an eightfold path, it's definitely straight, but not entirely quite so narrow:

I'm digging this, life is good.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Hand in Hand

In Washington Square Park:

I'd say I was a bit too quick with the trigger on this shot, though I suppose them being in that quadrant of the photo isn't exactly the worst thing that could have happened that day.

Angry Birds has now crashed my new phone twice in a day, but I can't get it up and running this time. Oh goody...

Thursday, October 28, 2010


I don't remember much else about Amanda other than her name was Amanda. Maybe she went to Yale? I took this roll in the summer and just got around to developing it today. You might be able to tell that I took it with the SWC, and even if there's still way too much headroom, I do have almost her full body down to her feet in frame.

I wonder if she's been checking the website for the past however many months, wondering when or even if her picture would end up on the site.

Well, here you are, wherever you are.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Up the Cliff

The view from Sunken City, San Pedro CA:

So another oldie but goody (reminds me of you...). At least I hope it's goody. It's from 11 years ago, I tell you what. So yeah, last night I said I was going to have a ginger ale, a cookie, and develop some film. I did two of those things. I bet you can guess which one I didn't do. But I'm still feeling great. It's all looking up from here, just like this photo, looking up the cliff from Sunken City.

There's a new girl in town, and she's looking good!

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


It's right there on the flyer (I do mean flyer and not flier, right?):

Yes, I know. I've been somewhere else lately. Well, not really somewhere else, I've been right here, but I really haven't been all there. And who pays for it? The tens of people (I wonder if I even make ten) that read this thing every day. And after reading a few short and glum posts by yours ever so truly, I wouldn't blame you if you just walked away from what for the most part lately have been both uninspired writing and photography. I was going to make an excuse for lousy photography, saying that I haven't been developing lately, but that's no excuse. And even if I have up some lousy pictures, the least I can do is offset it with some decent writing which I haven't done lately either. Lately the combination has been lousy photos, lousy writing. Of course the best you can get is great photos and great writing, but lately it's been all lousy all the time all summer long on CBS FM, your station Marvin Gaye, Ben Gay, Ben Dover, Haile Selassie, and Lassie Come Home.

I'm coming back. I can feel it. It's nothing that a ginger ale with rainbow sprinkles can't fix, followed by developing some film for the first time since I can't remember when. I also haven't been out shooting lately either, yet I can't say what I've been doing instead.

We have a cure.

We have?

Monday, October 25, 2010

Looking Down the Street


Yeah, I know.

I know.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Balloon Saloon


I didn't actually go into the Balloon Saloon, but I don't think it's actually a saloon like where you could get a drink and watch girls dance on the bar with their tops off and where there's like all these bras hanging on the wall behind the bar and when you actually go into bars like that with all the bras on the wall behind the bar you only see the bras and not the girls dancing on the bar and the bras are all covered with dust and you begin to wonder if the bras were ever worn by girls at all that were dancing on the bar or did they buy the bras at some junky clothing store on 14th Street (because there are no other kinds of clothing stores on 14th Street) before the bar was even open to make people think that is is the kind of bar where girls take their tops off and dance on the bar while people are trying to get drinks or watch the game on the TV.

Saturday, October 23, 2010


At the Boyce Institute! Where else?

This is part of, for lack of a better term, the "Grand Hall" of the Boyce Institute, something I've yet to post a more encompassing picture of. Also, wasn't it about time I had to revisit the Boyce Institute? Didn't I say that I was on the verge of flooding this blog with Boyce Institute? And didn't I not do that even though I did post some photos of the Boyce Institute didn't I?

Didn't I blow your mind this time, didn't I?

Friday, October 22, 2010


À le Franklin Street station:

This was taken with the SWC, and you may have noticed the clip marks in the image. I don't know why this one sorted itself out so it ended up taking a picture at the end of the roll, but these things happen sometimes. I have some new (used) backs I've yet to take into the field. Hell, I haven't taken anything into the field for some time already. Yeah, I know.

The people ride in a hole in the ground...

Thursday, October 21, 2010

At Night

It's what happens when the sun's not out:

Night and day, you are the one...

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Whitman Reading

A shot of the interior rooftop room of the South Street Seaport Museum during the marathon reading of Song of Myself:

What...were you expecting another shot from San Gennaro?

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Looking Into the Distance

Or so it would seem. I wonder what caught her eye:

This is another one of those I'm not quite sure why I like it but I like it photo. More San Gennaro anyone?

Monday, October 18, 2010

Raw Clam Bar

This picture/title combination is on the verge of being inappropriate, but fortunately for us I think we've managed to avoid it:

And remember, nothing is ever as bad as it seems, and nothing is so bad that it can't get worse.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Event Horizon

Where Chinatown meets Little Italy:

Some might say that the man in the center of the picture might seem out of place at the San Gennaro festival. Though as populations change, it is the Chinese population that has crossed north of Canal Street into the eroding real estate known as Little Italy.

Then again, the Chinese invented pasta so I think they'd feel right at home.

You know, you never associate amorosity with the Chinese (Yes, amorosity. You heard me). You know, you hear things like about Latin Lovers, French rogues, Don Juan...But what about the Chinese?

There ain't no billion Frenchmen, that's for shit sure.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Brooklyn Bridge Underpass

Under/Over Pearl St.:

This is one of those photos I had higher hopes for. I'm also ending sentences with propositions. Prepositions. I ended one sentence with a preposition, but no propositions.

This was sort of a lost week, except there was no booze involved. I think tomorrow we get back to normal around this joint.

Friday, October 15, 2010


Of the FDNY:

Well, welcome to another edition of "Uninspired Writing Theater," brought to you by yours truly. Though I'm currently listening to Biohazard's first album for the first time in ages. Why have I been denying myself this great pleasure for so long? Hardcore, metal, and rap all rolled into one! Great fucking shit. I've already listened to Retribution twice already. I may not be getting past that first song (much to my neighbors' chagrin, I'm sure).

I entrusted you, and you stabbed me in the back!

Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Happy Couple

Don't they just look it?

Maybe it's fitting that I write this entry while Jersey Shore is on the TV.

I've yet to see a 3D movie in this recent revival of 3D movies, but I'm certain that my first in-theater 3D movie experience will be Jackass 3D. Yes...Jackass and Jersey Shore. Straight up highbrow to the max.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Roof Window (side view)

Upstairs at the South Street Seaport Mueum:

I've been looking at this picture thinking that if I put it up, it's an exercise in laziness, and that I'm not giving my viewers something "good." But I've spent the entire day thinking about my lizard, and yes, if you know me, you know I mean that quite literally. I don't want to get into all the details, but the vet says the drugs she gave me should work. I spent most of the day watching him, and playing mahjong on my brand new phone, and now when I close my eyes all I can see are little mahjong tiles on the insides of my eyelids. And now that the lizard-watching is over and my little dude is asleep (hopefully with the drugs working their magic to reduce the amount of protozoa in his digestive tract that have been causing some really serious diarrhea for the past few days), I'm mostly inspired to figure out what's for dinner. I think it's a night to order in, lest I miss any of Mythbusters meets the Storm Chasers for the next two hours.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The New Hipster Paradise

Little Italy during San Gennaro!

Yes, walking among the carnival games, handmade cigar stalls, and cannolis could be found the North American Hipster. As you can see, he's wearing a shirt depicting an advertisement for Tootsie Roll Pops done in a style popularized over 35 years ago, yet the shirt itself is not vintage, but is actually new. The purpose of this shirt is to demonstrate that he simultaneously can express a romantic fondness for a time gone by, yet also is modern enough to drop $35 on a t-shirt, and defying those in the crowd sporting anything by Affliction or Tapout.

He also wears his hair in a fashion that advertises to anybody who sees it that he cannot drive 55.

I wonder how many licks it takes this guy to get a mouthful of don't ask don't tell.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Looking Over

At San Gennaro:

I'm trying to think of who I think this looks like. Or maybe she looks like every aunt I and every other person has ever had. She definitely has an aunt thing going on with her. I bet in ten years she'll be licking her thumb and use it to wipe grime off her grand-nephew's face. God. That's still fucking gross even thinking about it. Hell, if I see some kid with a dirty face I'm not going to spit on my hand and then wipe my spit on that kid's face. That's practically a sex offense!

I'm calling Megan's Law on this bitch.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Bongs Over Baghdad

So many choices:

It's a big decision in a young man's life when he has to choose what sort of marijuana delivery apparatus he must purchase (though I should say that said glassware is sold for the purposes of smoking tobacco, but what you put in there is your business). Does one go with the HIGHneken model or Dr. PUFFER?

For use with tobacco only, of course.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Cigar Store Indian

On Bleecker Street:

Do they have wooden white people in front of smoke shops on reservations? I don't get out to the Southwest much.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Roof Window

From the top floor of the South Street Seaport Museum:

Tonight my mind is elsewhere, but I know where it is. It's trying to figure out the Android phone I just got. It's also trying to figure out how to type without a keyboard. At least I have 30 days where I can return and exchange for the model with the slide out keyboard.

This post has been brought to you by the letters BOR, and ING.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Over Her Shoulder

Taken at San Gennaro, on its last day, on Mulberry Street:

I think it was an exercise in self-torture that I decided to walk to the South Street Seaport via Mulberry on the last day of San Gennaro. Though it was a good opportunity to have the SWC out and take pictures of people who didn't know they were having their pictures taken of them (yes, I know what I wrote). But even then I realized that I should have brought faster film. I was shooting with 400 and pushed to iso800, but I should have been out there with 3200 shooting at 3200, since then I'd be stopped down (yeah, smaller is "down," right?) and would have had a greater depth of field. But I also saw it as an exercise in being able to judge distances on the fly while setting the focus ring (hopefully) accordingly.

Even though there's a little blur to her, I dig this one.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010


No puns or entendres here, just wood:

Part of one of those top floor windows of the top floor of the South Street Seaport Museum.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

South Street Seaport Museum

On the top floor:

I'm finding it difficult to write a thoughtful entry while listening to thrash music. But we're talking MUNICIPAL WASTE here! The Art of Partying! Okay...let me let this finish up before I put on something more appropriate, or nothing at all which might be even more appropriater.

So what was I doing on the top floor of the South Street Seaport Museum, a place that isn't generally open to the public (I'd like to think, but maybe not)? Well, let me tell you...

It all started four years, maybe it started before then. It started without me even knowing that something had started. Maybe six years ago, or even seven...

One day sometime in the first half of the first decade of the 21st century, a five years which I usually refer to as my "downward slide" (I'll have to come up with something catchier), I decided to try to bulk up my festering brain with some poetry. A quick trip to Barnes and Nobles (Yes, I know it's Noble, but just let me have that one. I also have a theory about people who say, "Barnes and Nobles" but I'll save it for another post. Or did I already write an entry about that?) yielded me a compendium of Allan Ginsberg (who I once borrowed a pen from), and Walt Whitman. It was the Barnes and Noble Classics edition of his first and last (aka "Death Bed") of his Leaves of Grass. I glanced through both books, took a stab at reading a few poems, then put them on my shelf as my brain further atrophied as I allowed myself to be sucked ever downward into a meaningless existence (god, did I actually just write that sentence? I'm a fucking hack).

During my first semester at Columbia (Spring 06), I heard about this great summer class. It was all about Walt Whitman and New York City, and according to my fairy godmother/guardian angel (I'll write about him another time), it was definitely worth taking. Since it would be the only way I'd actually sit down and read Whitman (combined with my love of NYC and its history), I enrolled. The class was taught by a woman named Karen Karbiener. As she detailed to us our required books, one of them was the very edition of Leaves Of Grass I had picked up a few years earlier. It also turned out that she was the editor of that very edition, and one of the foremost Whitman scholars in America (though I wonder, are there any foremost Whitman scholars not in America?).

The class was wonderful, dare I say, special. Being a summer class it was pretty immersive. Twice a week, three hours a day of all Whitman (though there were field trips too). I loved it. I loved reading his poetry and venturing forth my opinions in class (which sometimes didn't always find like minds, but that's okay). The assignments were fun, though maybe that was because I managed good grades (my lowest assignment grade was an A-). On the last day of class (a marathon reading of Howl at the joint where he and Kerouac and those other dharma bums used to hang out, also there were free wings, I think), Karen said to me something along the lines of, "You said things in class that if I had said them, I'd get fired." I took it as a compliment, as I believe it was the spirit in which it was given.

So what does this have to do with me being on the top floor of the South Street Seaport Museum last week?

Every fall, Karen is involved with putting on a marathon reading of Song of Myself the first poem in Leaves of Grass. Usually it's held on the deck of the Peking (I think that's the name of the boat) moored by the South Street Seaport. I went to one of the readings back in 2006. It was good, but I think it was somewhat overshadowed by the Tango demonstration going on on the pier below. I hadn't been to a reading since, and hadn't seen Karen probably since 2008 when we happened to get on the same subway car.

So this year they had it on the top floor of the Museum, but the room in the picture wasn't the one where the reading was going on (I got some shots but they're not developed yet). The reading was already taking place as I got there. Maybe thirty people were present in the small room, the exposed roof beams peaking above us. It was not unlike a church, with everyone silent as people came to the podium to read passages Whitman's epic statement of humanity, and his singlehandedly changing the world of poetry forever.

The group listened and read along in their own books. I just listened to the words. Even though I've read Song of Myself, it's a different thing to hear it spoken by another. In that little room as the words echoed off parallel walls not intended for public speaking I closed my eyes and could better envision what Whitman was evoking. His use of words to evoke sounds, feelings...everything from orgasm to sheer terror, attempting to encapsulate the entirety of human existence into a single poem (which reminds me of the Dalai Lama's book called The Universe in a Single Atom. The commonalities between Buddhist thought and Whitman are uncanny, but that's for another day).

While enthralled, I did have to step out for a bit to grab some lunch. I'm sure if McDonald's existed in Whitman's time, he'd have eaten there too. He was a man of the people, and what people don't eat at McDonald's?

I did return after "lunch," and stayed to the end. Speaking of ends, I'm not sure how to wrap all this up. I'm not even sure what exactly I wrote here. I just know I wrote things, hopefully they made some kind of sense. Hopefully the picture isn't too ruined by that little triangle thing on the very right hand side (it seems to be a coattail, I'm imagining, and I think I know whose).

Yes, I took a picture, and here it is (well, here being up there...).

Monday, October 4, 2010

Liberty Sunset

Well, not quite the sunset, but getting close to twilight time:

When the blue of the night,
Meets the gold of the day,
Someone waits for me...

Sunday, October 3, 2010

A Wake

Get it? A wake! Like from a boat! That boat! The one I was on!

And the hits just keep on coming!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

What a Waist

That's what we call a pun:

One of these things is not like the other...

Friday, October 1, 2010

Big Inflatable Rat

It's obviously done well for itself, what with the moneybags and the big cigar:

I'm trying to remember when the big inflatable rat phenomenon started. And who's making all the dough from making all these big inflatable rats? I wouldn't be surprised if they use non-union labor to make all those big inflatable rats.