Wrapping up August was another trip to …
Pete wanted me to take his picture next to that tree. So here it is.
Pete knows this girl from his trips to the park without me. I don’t remember her name.
This poor kid was swallowed whole by a bubble. Nobody tried to save him, they all just watched him get devoured.
The re-becoming something is well underway
But not without a little street time first. (it’s a video)
Every now and then, I escape back to the city where I belong.
Instead of being the train home to Brooklyn, now it’s the train to the city.
The number of drunks and bums Father Frank’s homeless shelter attracts to the area seems to have steadily risen over time. Now they’re passed out all over the train station day and night.
I prefer this city greeting to the drunks sprawled out on the platform in Port Jeff
Hello ESB, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.
The Endless March of the Yellow Cabs
It is now safe to walk uphill.
No Dorkbot for me this month. Larry invited me to tag along at an art exhibition.
On the way to the Armory, I passed this collection of dismembered cattle.
Apparently you could go inside, but there wasn’t time.
(click on this one to see it in action)
There were anatomically correct sleeping figures.
(November 12 & 15) I don’t think there had been any “unorganized” protest marches in this city since my arrival, but during the week of November 12 there were two.
The first was at night, in midtown Manhattan.
Three days later, there was another, this one downtown.
It sort of shut down Broadway.
I couldn’t tell how big this one was.