p s e u d o r e a l
Better Than Real Because It's Not.
Filed under: General
(March 14 & 16) I am now a 5 mile walk to the train. Woe is me.
The journey starts out in Miller Place.
Off in the distance, you can see the smokestacks from the Port Jefferson Power Station, a few blocks from where I lived for eight years.
The geese are safe from Michael Bloomberg here
It looks a lot more rural here than it really is
No hunting. But really, it’s suburbia, honest!
Someone had a really lousy day.
Lousy enough to make them very angry. But that didn’t change the fact this is a very dangerous road.
And the weathervane has gone down again
Apple’s on fire! … just kidding. Maybe Tony stopped by.
The city has crabs.
I passed by the House of Viza, but he was not there.
The flowers seem somehow much larger this spring.
Filed under: General
(September 5) As a child, I remember first living in Bohemia, NY. From there we moved to Ronkonkoma, and then to West Sayville, where I lived until I was 23.
Much to my surprise, a few blocks from the house I moved to at 16, was this.
A DeLorean dealer. This is what John DeLorean’s tears look like.
Filed under: General
(June 26) Viza and I went to a presentation at the Marriott Marquis, and then afterward to cleanse ourselves of Times Square, we walked over to the High Line. I like the park, but it seems to me the view is more interesting than the park itself. I’m not sure if that’s what they intended or not.
You can still (barely) see the tracks
In 2010, it’s hard to imagine locomotives several stories overhead
Mr. Trains
New Jersey. You don’t want to go there. Nobody does.
I wonder what it costs to live in those apartments
While we were there, I counted dozens of cars, mostly cabs, running the stop sign.
The ExhibitionistStandard Hotel is built above the High Line and offers parkgoers a free peep show.
Filed under: General
(May 16) Going places, going places I didn’t intend to go, and going more places still.
I didn’t hear the announcement that my R was going to go express to 36th. Fortunately there were mosaics I hadn’t seen before at the end of the proverbial and literal tunnel.
These appear to be subway scenes from the 1940’s. I didn’t see a placard.
Then after picking up my notebook, it was back into Manhattan to the West Village heading for the library. Unfortunately I rode the subway and not the Ducati.
Passed four dogs camped out.
Then someone woke them.
Took the F back through Carroll Gardens.
Then out to Port Jefferson the next day to witness the winding down of a 40 year business.
The next day on Union St., the strange sign had changed.
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