Skip to main content

Fleeting glances.

Trucks
Warm nights spent in search of friendly patios, enjoying cold boozy beverages with friends, days spent working and watching the city adjust to spring.

neonpointBenjones@AltLES
Along the way, somehow finding time to snap photos, steal onto a pier in the dead of night (and somehow not get arrested in the process), check out a hip-hop show, bartend another Jigsaw party or three, line up some lighting and sound gigs...

Will@PanchitosCityLightShowoverpass
And then there's the fun moments, like when a wino stumbles into work and passes out on the floor (after serenading me with a verse of "Careless Whisper"), waking just long enough to ask me to cap his vodka bottle and give me the phone number for the police. ("No man... Call the cops. They'll get me out of here.")

WinoInTheStore

Springtime in New York. Endlessly amazing.


-PAR

Comments

Anonymous said…
the funny thing is, i have experienced the same thing. i thought that that guy had been taken away by the cops for good (much like Hotdog), and—strangely enough—it's good to see that he's still causing etherea trouble (as annoying as it may be). catch him sober sometime... he's actually quite civil.

mb

Popular posts from this blog

Farewell, Matthew S. Farrell

Matthew Farrell. Self-created raconteur, impresario, dandy, sponsor of the arts, cheerleader of creativity, perpetual inspiration. Our dear ice cream server Grace once jokingly referred to him as “the winner, and only contestant, of Charlottesville’s Oscar Wilde Lookalike Contest”, and y’know, she was pretty spot-on. Matt (I was told at various times to call him Matt, Matthew, or “just Farrell”, so to this day, I call him all those things) had his own style that was clearly modeled on his platonic ideal of a perfect gentleman. And this gentleman dressed like a Fitzgerald character, talked like a continental aristocrat who summered in some undefined New England coastal village, and walked like Groucho Marx. He smoked unfiltereds, often two at once, just for kicks, which he would hold when gesticulating excitedly as he greeted dear friends or total strangers. Pretentious? Yeah, a bit. Sincere? Always. Distinctive? Absolutely. At some point, I think I recall him saying someth

DJing, Charlottesville VA, Wednesday January 6th 2010!

If you are around in central Virginia tomorrow, you should come check this out. ...And if you're not, you should still look at the lovely event poster that my buddy James K. Ford and I made. The best imaginary vintage paperback cover never made, methinks. Very "Ace Double", in color scheme and layout. Anyhow, DJ gig. In the hometown. With my buddy James (AKA DJ Hummingbird Feeder) and me. We'll start around 9/9:30/10pm and go 'til last call. It will rock, and funk, and do other genretastic verbjectives... And it would be great to see you.

On David (DC, Dave) Berman.

David Berman has left the stage, made his exit, delivered his final observations on the state of existence.   I feel like it’s dumb to be tearing up at the thought of a Berman-less world, so I guess I’m dumb, and I guess I don’t really mind. I can't claim I knew him very well, but I thought of him as a friend. You know, the sort of friendships that form when you're both part of an amorphous social circle of weirdos in a small town at a certain point in time? Like that. Actually, exactly that. Everyone ends up at the same places, and it’s all a sea of get-togethers where everyone ends up in the kitchen, and a tiny club and a sushi bar and a Thai restaurant and a coffee shop and a bunch of patios in the summertime. You see different combinations of the same people, and there’s always beer and whiskey, and every wall is decked out with Steve Keene paintings, no matter which house or shop or cafĂ© you’re sitting in. Now, a couple decades removed, defining specifics is onerous, and