Posts tagged ‘28mm’
flowing down nostrand avenue on my sailboat with a pocket full of pistachos and the new york times. underneath my hat is where i keep my secret documents. i do that because that’s the last place they would look. you see, they’ll search my bag and then rifle through my jacket and my pockets. and when they don’t find nothing, they’ll probably get up real close to my face and ask me in no uncertain terms that they could search my apartment if they wanted to. in those situations, you just have to relax and don’t maintain eye contact for too long. just look at the ground and think about how many steps it would take to get to sheepshead bay. no use getting angry or taking out the master blaster over a bunch of suits with badges. i’ve got better things to waste my lasers on.
stop and smell the moments.
once in a while, i dream of molars encompassed by fields of gold flakes.
there is a magic show that i keep in a box at home underneath my bed inside of a secret plastic bag that’s folded between two envelopes that i remember buying the first time i went to paris and saw the beautiful lights. i really miss those days because those were the days you could fly literally with these carpets that you could get anywhere for a pittance. all you really needed was a place to fly and there was plenty of that in the countryside. my father owned a farm there with all these chickens and i remember they use to come in at dinner and ask us to sing songs and we did because that’s the kind of family we were.
taxi taxi taxi
nothing is more glorious in childhood than ice cream in the summer.
i got some x-box back in my room.
i’ve been working in this industry for about a year and a half since coming over. my cousin got me this job. he said it was going to be a lot of work. but they don’t ask no questions and i get ten an hour. i take things off the truck and deliver them. if i had to say i noticed one consistent thing about this city is how much cabbage we deliver. chinese restaurants. delis. bodegas. pizza joints. the movie theaters. the starbucks. the duane reade. the target. the zoo. everywhere. all we did for twelve hours straight was delivering cabbage from one place to another. you know boxes and boxes of cabbages. the amount just doesn’t make too much sense to me. maybe except for some of those people that eat pickled cabbage all the time, but that doesn’t equal out with the amount of cabbage we are delivering. my boss tells me we delivered about three million pounds of cabbage in the last six months. and that’s just here in manhattan. he said if gas were cheaper, we’d be delivering at least three times that easy.
New York, NY — Within the last few months, scientists and wildlife experts have identified a new strain of hipster prowling the streets of New York City. While they maintain many of the same political views as the modern hipster, the post-modernist hipster has fewer androgynous characteristics. After several undercover operations, scientists and experts have learned they do not have Bravo-watching parties at their Williamsburg lofts and are morally opposed to turtle necks and capri pants and thongs and black plastic glasses and shared bubble baths. Instead, the post-modernist hipster frequents bodegas and other cheap hang out places where they eat unhealthy and high-fructose laden chips and donuts and drink 22s of Budweiser, in order to achieve the coveted “pouch.” Scientists have labeled this behavior as “female symbiosis lather,” which in layman’s terms, is an attempt to acquire a “creation of male identity encapsulated within the large intestine.” This is directly correlated to the behavior of the Wagabe Crocodile found in Budva, Montenegro.
at the time, i was working for a small graphic design company on twenty-third street. i wasn’t making a lot of money but at least i was getting experience. i started out in traffic and then after about a year or so i was on the branding team. not bad for a kid out of cleveland going to public schools. then things changed when i met mother. she was maybe about fifty-five, and looked like a cross between the lady from murder she wrote and meryl streep, but her skin wasn’t as smooth. i was at a grey’s papaya munching on a hotdog and she asked me for a fifty cents for the subway. i gave her fifty cents and then went i went to my apartment that i shared with my old college buddy lester, she was there in the hallway, along with three guys in suits. i thought it was going to be a shakedown but then she said it. she kept saying sergeant hectorish lee over and over and over again. by maybe the twentieth time she said it, and at that point i was tied to a chair, things started to make sense, a lot of sense.
e v e r y d a y aperture 