part III of a New York Trio.
submitted by Steve with the caption: "Grand Central in action."
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Grand Central Terminal
42nd St, NYC.
part III of a New York Trio.
submitted by Steve with the caption: "Grand Central in action."
part III of a New York Trio.
submitted by Steve with the caption: "Grand Central in action."
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
116 Crown
New Haven.
I got up from my bar stool and informed my friends that I was going to take a piss. I headed away down the length of the bar and hung a roger down a long, dimly-lit hallway of doors. I stopped at one and entered a magical land of space and shapes and concepts. As I took care of business I watched, on a screen right in front of my face, my friends who I'd left at the bar moments ago. What were they talking about while I'm not there? Where they talking about me? Lips are hard to read on a small LCD monitor. Did the bartender just take my glass? I wasn't done with that you asshole. Then I finish and push a button: peace out pee pee.
I got up from my bar stool and informed my friends that I was going to take a piss. I headed away down the length of the bar and hung a roger down a long, dimly-lit hallway of doors. I stopped at one and entered a magical land of space and shapes and concepts. As I took care of business I watched, on a screen right in front of my face, my friends who I'd left at the bar moments ago. What were they talking about while I'm not there? Where they talking about me? Lips are hard to read on a small LCD monitor. Did the bartender just take my glass? I wasn't done with that you asshole. Then I finish and push a button: peace out pee pee.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Rudy's Bar
Elm St. New Haven.
The facilities seem to suggest that this is a two-person job, the lock on the door suggests otherwise. I guess what it really comes down to is an individual's comfort-level-to-desire-to-piss-ratio. The guy before me had the door locked and when he finally emerged I smelled why. How come whenever you walk into the storm left by another it always seems like they're trying to pass it off onto you? Well, no need to flee the seen my flighty, stinky friend; I've conjured up one or two storms here myself.
The facilities seem to suggest that this is a two-person job, the lock on the door suggests otherwise. I guess what it really comes down to is an individual's comfort-level-to-desire-to-piss-ratio. The guy before me had the door locked and when he finally emerged I smelled why. How come whenever you walk into the storm left by another it always seems like they're trying to pass it off onto you? Well, no need to flee the seen my flighty, stinky friend; I've conjured up one or two storms here myself.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
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