Puzzling

They evidently sell a lot of loose beans, rice and cooking oil in Inwood. Dan's grocery stacks these items 10 feet high in front of the store. Each time I walk by, it reminds me of the Andreas Gursky photograph "99 cent," which sold for millions a few years back (go figure).

Dressed in a clean white robe with a white bag next to him, this man sat Indian style next to the tracks as if meditating. We made brief eye contact and he showed no expression or emotion, though he didn't appear to be mentally disturbed. As the train arrived, he made no effort to get up. I stepped on and again we made eye contact, through the window as the train pulled away.

The very first time I came to New York in the 80s, I remember riding the subway through either Queens or Brooklyn and seeing laundry hanging between apartment buildings. That image seemed very nostalgic and old fashioned to me. It's not as prevalent these days so whenever I see clothes hanging anywhere I feel compelled to stop and take a snap.  

I found this image on my point-and-shoot camera from my day in Red Hook. I remember being puzzled, with no indication as to why a wig drop would even exist and who might be dropping these wigs off. So odd.

Shelter, Rain, Air

I've never wanted the responsibility of owning a home. I have no desire to landscape, don't especially like to mow grass, heating and air conditioning cost a fortune and I don't want to deal with the constant repairs and upkeep. Maybe one day I'd like to have a little cottage, cabin or even an Airstream trailer tucked off in the woods.

But, there is this one house. A house I've dreamed of owning for over 25 years. It's located in Frederick, Maryland, across from Hood College. If I ever have an extra million dollars lying around I'll knock on the door and make an offer... I love that house.

Driving home late one evening in Virginia it began to rain. Just before I turned on the wipers I snapped a photo through the windshield..

I stopped by a local thrift store in Fairfax and noticed a very nice mountain bike leaning against some speakers. I instantly noticed its nice components. It had two flat tires and stickers all over it. An employee walked up and said, "We were asking $25 but you can have it for $20." I thought for a moment and wheeled it to the register. On my way home I stopped at a gas station to fill the tires. The last time I put air in a tire it cost 25 cents. I thought that was outrageous. Now, it's a dollar, everywhere. And, they justify it by telling you that by paying a dollar for that air you're helping to feed starving children. Such bullshit. I didn't have any quarters anyway. Later, I took the bike to a local bike shop. The guy who did the checkup and service told me the bike was a steal. I spent $19 and me and my new bike were ready to take on Pike's Peak.

Back from Virginia

I arrived in Virginia on the Fourth of July to help with some family matters. My sister, her husband Harry and I went to the fireworks show at my old alma mater, Fairfax High School. Everything was going along fine with the usual explosions, startled kids crying and screaming, applause, ooohs and ahhhs from the crowd, but after a few minutes the fireworks sort of sputtered to a halt. People waited for the grand finale but it never came. The stadium lights came on and people slowly dispersed. Evidently there was a technical malfunction. You'd think a fireworks company having 364 days to practice for the big event could get it right. Apparently not, they still managed to screw it up... Good job!

 Plastic cups stuck in a fence in my old neighborhood. "Rural" patriotism at its best!

A few days into my stay I collaborated with my good friend Christina shooting these images behind her barn. She's always a good sport willing to listen to my ideas. She didn't bat an eye at my mud idea.

On a day trip to Frederick, Maryland, a "local" suggested I go to the county fairgrounds just outside of town. When I got there I found they were having Mexican wrestling. To add to that, the headliner was Mexican midget wrestling. And what's more fun than fighting midgets? Security and the promoters were all very kind and let me shoot up close. I went the "artsy" route with blurs and shallow depth of field. My first wrestling experience, a great day with a totally unexpected outcome.

Toro Pequeno (little bull)

Time Well Spent

Talking with one of my best friends the other day, he spoke about never having enough time to accomplish all the things he "needs" to do. If he has an hour of free time, he has a list of about 15 things he should do with it.  I like to read a lot. People with so much on their plate don't share that luxury. After giving his time dilemma some serious thought (I have time to ponder such things), I realized that he has created this "zero free time" life entirely on his own. A big house, three cars (one antique), a wife and two young kids, a few horses, 35+ acres, a dog and a few cats, art fairs to prepare for, etc. All of which require HUGE amounts of time and maintenance. Veterinarians, pediatricians, landscaping (mowing), home and equipment repairs (constant), countless phone calls, school issues, housekeepers, nannies, etc, etc. The list is endless. That's all aside from doing his actual job. Why does a person take on so much responsibility, knowing that almost everything will be compromised by the inability to complete a given task? Consequently many things don't get finished. Or worse, are done by someone else at a substantial expense. And, there seems to be no reduction of responsibility in sight. I suggested a smaller home with less acreage--"Oh no. I love having a farm." I suggested fewer vehicles--"Oh no, we need those." I suggested giving one of the two kids up for adoption. That drew silence... and a smirk.

I love my friend dearly (I doubt he'll read this, he doesn't have time). However when he says to me, after reading one of my emails or blog posts, "You have WAY too much free time on your hands," I smile and think to myself, "Yes, I do. I'm so fortunate."  A minimalist life is not for everyone. Simplicity is a beautiful thing....

The Truth (obviously) Hurts

So, after receiving more than one comment (emailed) regarding my "The Truth about Truth" post, I've decided to take it down. People who think they were implicated have stated "I just won't tell you anything anymore." Friends who confided secrets with me have somehow felt betrayed even though I didn't mention anyone by name. None of the spouses of these people read my blog, so I truly wasn't concerned with "outing" anyone and what might be perceived as a malicious attempt to expose their true feelings. In 3 years I have never deleted a post...until now. Sometimes you have to suck it up and play nice. The Truth does Hurt... Geesh.

Walk On

I love to walk around the city. I never walk quickly in a straight line from point A to point B... ever.  I amble, I mosey, I meander, I dawdle, I stop, I observe, I take some pictures. I'm fairly certain anyone who's with me finds it very annoying. Or so I've been told on more than one occasion. 

Tourists downtown viewing the Statue of Liberty.

Looking down from the High Line.

View from Battery Park.

From the High Line.

Walking along Battery Park....self portrait.

Three faces on High Line.

Crazy Coney

Saturday I went back to Coney Island. I went in the afternoon after waking up at 11:00. I stay up too late. Did the usual, shot the local craziness, ate great tacos, shot many photos, drank icy cold Pepsi (bad) and spent a total of 3 hours on the train to and from. I can't help it, I'm addicted. Perhaps it's not your thing, but if you get bored at Coney Island, you're clinically dead.

Always present boardwalk drama.

Guys kept loading in 50 cents a pop to prove their manhood by smacking this bag.... Nobody wins anything.

Seagull doing its best impersonation of DiCaprio's "I'm the King of the world!"

Bad Art Night

My good friend Iris and I hit Chelsea Thursday night aiming to attend at least ten openings in a few hours. We were prepared, we had the list, we were determined. Both of us realize that art openings are a true crap shoot. Finding "good art" is like finding a needle in a haystack. Tonight we found no needle. Just a bunch of crap. I wrote "seriously?" til my hand cramped. From an art standpoint the night was total bust. You win some, you lose some. We had fun anyway... Lots of snickering, eye rolling and a few good chuckles. 

Wow...a piece of twisted metal nailed to the wall....Deep.

Three painted sheets tacked to the wall.... Deep.

Trained dog at show called "Dogma". Lying there on a rug, occasionally looking up at his owner/trainer for a treat for his artistic posing... The dog was the art. Total bullshit.

At least this "piece" was humorous. Cactus with erection.

Another piece of pottery that looks like it was made by a retarded 4 year old. Bullshit.

Vase, plastic branches, meat for leaves. Perhaps it was salmon? Prosciutto? Whatever it was, it was stupid.

The Minds of Some...

I think it's fascinating how some minds work. Who would think to take something as simple as a wet paint sign, switch the words and toss out the "P"? Brilliant.

Odd sculpture on Lafayette Street. Complete with tiny clear drips of water and fine individual hairs. Such extraordinary detail. 

Each time I walk into a gallery and see something so shitty on the walls I think to myself one of two words: "Really?" or "Seriously?"  Now I just write them on the guest notepad... So f*#king stupid.

Bronx Sunset

  

Tonight a thunderstorm passed over Inwood and I had a hunch the light was going to be nice so I hopped on the #1 train headed up to the Bronx. As I looked out the window I could see the clouds starting to glow. I hopped off at 235th Street and waited, snapping these images from the platform. No exaggerated Photoshop colors, only 1 stop under exposure. People who stepped off the following trains saw me aiming towards the sky, glanced up and were suddenly amazed at what was going on above them. 

I turned around to see the last of the sun on the buildings in the far Bronx. 

Facebook, Truly Amazing

Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask me if I have a Facebook account. I always roll my eyes and tell them that I don’t want 200 people from high school contacting me. But, the other day, out of curiosity, I got on FB through a friend's account and typed the name of someone who was very popular from my high school. Wow, the guy was obviously still popular, with almost 700 friends. Many of the names I remembered. So, I sat there for about 2 hours clicking through these friends, trying to put a memory to each face. I found it interesting to note (and numbingly boring to look at) that most people my age post photos of their kids graduating, their spouses, cruise ship vacations and stupid random remarks much like tweets saying, "I just bought some lawn chairs on sale at Costco." A good friend’s wife is addicted to FB, which she checks constantly, which he finds incredibly annoying. The stupid shit she finds interesting and humorous is baffling.

What I find MOST wonderful about FB is the ability to see what might easily have become your future. Had you taken a certain girl to the prom, she may have ended up being your wife. And, you can see all the girls (now women) whom you adored and lusted for but who never reciprocated those feelings. Frankly, what is most wonderful is that nearly all of them have gotten fat and unattractive. Those hot little nubile cheerleaders haven't been able to squeeze into their old uniforms in the past 25 years. What sweet revenge. Those smooth, beautiful, angelic faces are now bloated and tired with bags under their eyes as big as potato sacks. I found most of these "girls" unrecognizable. "Holy shit, that’s who? That can't be, no way." Evidently life in the suburbs, marriage and having kids has not been very kind to their physical appearance.

I had the biggest crush on a certain popular girl whom I truly adored. When I got my driver's license my friends and I would drive to a hill near her house, slow down to a crawl and watch her sunbathing on the roof in her little bikini (relax, we were 16). I would circle the block, over and over....She wouldn't give me the time of day. I wasn't that popular, or good looking enough and I didn't play sports. And now, voila'--She looks like Sally Struthers. I love that.

The guys are almost as bad. Most of the popular athletes are equally unrecognizable. Does living in the 'burbs, having a few kids and having a 9-to-5 job automatically mean you will turn into a fat, lazy slob, posting photos of you and your friends sitting in a fishing boat, sun burnt, wearing funny looking hats and holding a Corona? Evidently so, that's pretty much the extent of their photo libraries. The star football players who made me feel inferior as they strutted down the halls arm and arm with the hottest girls in the school are now all fat, bald, divorced, and nearly all share photos that include some type of beer in them. It’s incredible. FB is the greatest Internet thing I’ve ever discovered. These are the same guys who were lifeguards during the summer and would gloat about how much they could bench press. The “over 100 club”? Now most of them are in a different “over 100 club”. As in, a hundred lbs. over their target weight. Time, the great equalizer. Those fat bastards!

Two hours on FB is better than any TV show, any movie or any concert (a bit of an exaggeration but close!). I LOVE FACEBOOK!

Finally, I still won't be joining FB anytime soon. BUT, if I ever decide to, I'll drive out to the suburbs and "stage" a fishing trip. Rent or borrow a few kids and a fat middle-aged woman, hire someone with a bass boat and take them all out to a lake. Then I'll snap lots of photos with a crappy phone camera and post them on my new account.

Otherwise, just like in high school, I wouldn’t fit in with the popular crowd.

Thank you Facebook!!

Mermaids and Lunatics at Coney Island

Today was the annual Mermaid Day Parade at Coney Island. This is the first time I've gone in the past few years and today was perfect: high 80s, blue sky and chock full of lunatics. It was packed. I was there from 2:30pm until about 10:00pm. I walked a few miles, took a bunch of pictures, ate the best tacos I've ever had, drank a big cup of Killian's Red (my favorite) and enjoyed the freaks. A great day....

Happy, chunky hula-hooper...hoopist.

Grab 3 friends, pay 25 bucks each, get wrapped in a flimsy sack attached to a giant rubber band and slingshot youreselves into the air 80 feet over the crowd. No thanks.

Shark bait as seen from the pier.

Long shadow.

In the amusement area they have the same fortune teller as seen in the movie "Big". Momentarily tempted, I wanted to ask Zoltar to make me young again. Then I thought, wait, I feel young. I do young things and hang out with young people. I am young. So, if Zoltar granted my wish, my life wouldn't change all that much. 


Zoltar didn't get my dollar.