You and I in a nutshell.
(via loveforfashion)
Can I just say something? You.Are.Precious.
The Perfect Stranger - revisited
Bowery Club of Poetry.
I enjoy this because for once… it wasn’t about you.
Art was my weapon, but now I’m defenseless…
Oh, you pig.
Oh, I’m the pig?!
Art is my Weapon
Art is my Weapon
The Door in the Wall.
The Woods
Rue du Grand Large in New York.
Wesley.
Art disappearing.
NY Impressions of the New Year. Two.
In Sleep. Ended 2011 with 62 Hauntings.
Always knew, always feared. Always knew you’d be leaving and disappear on me.
Creeps Night Out in Brooklyn.
Gotham- vandalized with your Absence.
“I couldn’t wait to let you go. Couldn’t wait to say goodbye” she lied, smiling. Always smiling.
NY Impressions of the New Year.
“Some point in the past few weeks it stopped being the hopeful kind of sadness. The sadness that just takes time. And I’m left with something permanent now, some structure of emptiness and pretend that’s simply not going away.”
Happy New Years, in the dirt.
“She swung around. In her fairytale Home with her fairytale man. Never did anyone know that before she got here she was someone else. In a far away land, with a different Name and a hole in her chest.”
Why yes, this is a mustache onesie.
I think that time is a vicious son of a bitch. I think circumstances suck. I think I should have seen this two years ago. I would like to think something would be different now and Anton wouldn’t have married safety instead of adventure.
It’s Bandit, in a Hat.
For You. For always. Happy New Year.
Bleecker Records on Bleecker St in Greenwich Village. He hung out in the Rock Section, moving between Duran Duran, Bob Dylan and The Doors.
Made me think of you.
Dear December 14th,…
New York City.
Dear New York. You feel good. Your air is crisp. You actually have the ability to make me smile and pretend for a while that it’s not an insincere smile. You’re not Los Angeles. But you’re New York. And I still feel like I am Home whenever I’m here.
Dear Rebecca. You’re the first and only person in this world I can be around 24/7 for days and days and days and still miss the split-second we have to separate. Thanks for being the best person to ever be part of my life. I love you so much.
Dear pretty bearded white guys. I like y’all.
Dear cute Lady in the Schooltastic store on Mercer. Thanks for being so sweet even though I didn’t find the Raccoon on Broadway.
Dear cute Vegas Magician Look-a-like in the Halloween Store on Broadway and 11th. Thanks for being just as sweet even though I couldn’t find the Raccoon one block uptown either.
Dear Folkmanis Puppets. Your Wolf in the sheepskin stole my Heart. Your Fox already did weeks ago. But your Raccoon is like a treasure not to be found.
Dear Big Raccoon. I love you. I know it’s being said way too often by people who could never mean it the way i do. But I hardly ever say it when I talk about you. I love you. There was no goodbye and my heart never hurt as much as it does now. I don’t understand this life. Don’t understand why it lets me bump into you over and over but under circumstances so destroying they just leave me lifeless every time. The helplessness is devastating. There is nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. Other than I love you and that you’ll always be my you no matter how much you pained me in the past and will pain me in the future.
Dear Shannon. Wow, that last day sucked. Don’t ya think?!
Dear honeyfaces of SoHo. Yes I’m eating Hersheys Chocolate and drinking Snapple Mango Madness on the streets of Honeyfaceparadise. So what? You get to fuck my man. I get to eat your chocolate.
Dear Girl next to the Owl. You don’t have to feel better just because I’m not good enough. That superior sneering laugh is still echoing inside of me. But honestly, as much as it might have hurt, I feel sorry for you ‘cause he’ll be a memory long gone in a few days. He will hardly ever mean anything to you…not the way he’ll forever be with me one way or another.
Dear absolutely adorable Lumberjack on Elizabeth. I wanted to talk to you. But your two friends were supercreepy. So I left.
Dear Latino Guys. No.
Dear Black Hip Hop Dudes. No. And Yes, my hair indeed is red.
Dear iPod. When I was waiting for the F train at 2nd Ave you played “Razor Girl” by Hush Hush. Thank You.
Dear Bedford Avenue. Adopt me.
Dear Guy on Bedford Ave. I was in fact not trying to flirt. But you wore those white Reebokshoes with blue and red stripes.
Dear Black Women. Stop staring at me. There is nothing I want that you want. Except for if it looks like this http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvcsi6g4JC1qg6fo1o1_500.jpg
Dear ‘TIOAOMFTSYD’ Posters. Tomorrow I will make sure the last bits and pieces of you will vanish from the Streets. There is no need for you to be on display when there’s no more haunting in SoHo.
Dear You. I hope you’re happy…I hope everything a stranger can hope for another stranger…
So after the Flyers last Christmas in NY and the stickers this fall in Los Angeles and NY, ‘TIOAOMFTSYD’ five-o-ten will find its way to New York. Starting tomorrow.
This was the most colorful tree I could find in Central Park. :[
I hoped so much to see it in full Fall Bloom but I guess the summer lasted too long for it to already happen.
However, there was filming going on, a couple making out on the bench, some photo-shoots.
A guy took off his shirt for a commercial (I think) and all the ladies gasped ‘cause he was pumped up like a Ken Doll. I just walked by, smiling ‘cause I couldn’t be less interested.
There was a man hugging a girl, and both of them wore hats. I walked by and like clockwork, the smile turned into melancholy.
