p s e u d o r e a l
Better Than Real Because It's Not.
Filed under: General
(Aug 19) It was on this trip that I realized a few things. One was that walking provided most of the inspiration for photo-taking. The other was (related to the first) that I may have finally gotten a nice camera but at the wrong time in my life. Knowing my time here was short, I hit the street.
I started out…
This road is indeed long and winding.
I’d intended to go all the way to the harbor.
It ends in Mt. Sinai at Cedar Beach.
Oh poison ivy, I curse your very existence. You other ivy are ok though.
Keep in mind though, this is suburbia. None of this is wild.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not nice.
What the streets are made of.
Unfortunately I didn’t get far before stepping in poison ivy, upon which I hurried back home to wash.
Filed under: General
(May 4) As has been my way since moving back to Long Island, I walked to IBM from Penn Station round-trip. I don’t feel I’m getting $4.50 worth of transportation to go only twenty three blocks north and four or five blocks east and back again. (In May I did Penn Station to 84th and back for a total of one hundred blocks north-south and one east-west)
This way to Spring
Yellow flower something
Bleeding hearts
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
The first morning in my new place, I awoke thinking a plane hit the house. Less traumatically, that’s how I woke up for weeks from the house house shaking from vehicle collisions with the potholes outside my window.
Those didn’t look like much even up close, but when the trucks rolled through them… oh boy.
Main Street, on an August early Friday evening
Some things are almost exactly as they were five years ago
Guess someone makes money from it
Filed under: General
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 city is full of ghosts
The Endless March of the Yellow Cabs
It is now safe to walk uphill.
Subscribe using RSS Entries & RSS Comments, or Atom Entries & Atom Comments.
Bad Behavior has blocked 342 access attempts in the last 7 days.
