(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.
I passed by the House of Viza, but he was not there.
The flowers seem somehow much larger this spring.
(October 23) To the city I go again. This time my travels bring me to 42nd St.
What for me, is becoming an obligatory shot.
The prelude to an unintended pregnancy.
(June 6) Paid a visit to Lindsay and Delilah. I’m always happy to see her for a number of reasons. Took in some eye candy at the park while I waited for her to get home. It reminds me how much I miss Brooklyn and the life I had there.
I finally got a shot of this in the daylight
I don’t quite get the message, which includes dudes paddling bathtubs.
Mr. Chicken apparently lives around here
I’m not feeling this like I used to, but I go because Pete wants to, and I need to escape every now and then.
I walk down here a lot, even when I don’t have a train to catch.
Among other things, I like to reassure myself I can escape suburbia.
The next day it was off to the park.
Failure of what was recently the most profitable restaurant in the United States.
They weren’t bad, if I recall correctly.
Unlike most days, it wasn’t crowded.