The Wife and I visited Governor’s Island on Saturday and ran into The Jazz Age Lawn Party.

I can’t give it away on 7th Avenue. Aka, Stuck in the middle with you.

Whenever I pass the Ansonia Hotel on Broadway I get to thinking about Babe Ruth or Saul Bellow–whose novella Seize the Day takes place in and around the Ansonia–or even Plato’s Retreat. What a history, right? And still, what I think about most, especially from this point of view is Matthau leaning out of the building in The Sunshine Boys, bellowing: “The Feeeenghah! The Feeeenghah!”

Please stand clear of the closing doors.

Thank you, Ira Wagner.  The Bronx is beautiful.

In the spring of 1977 my parents moved from Manhattan to Westchester. I turned 6 that June and shortly after that came the blackout, which we missed. I don’t even recall anyone talking about it though the rest of my relatives experienced it first-hand in Manhattan.

Reason I bring it up is PBS is airing a documentary about the ’77 blackout tonight.

Check it out.

[Photo Credit: Credit Bolivar Arellano, via PBS]

Just writing my name and graffiti on the wall.

[Photo Credit: Jack Stewart]

Another sure shot from Scouting New York. 

The City That Never Sleeps. Dig this coolness by Frank Bohbot that I found at the always-dope site, This Isn’t Happiness. 

Man at work. Seen on 231st Street in the Bronx.

This New York Minute is brought to you by the great Charles Simic. 

Painting by David Larson Evans.

I walked past Alice Tully Hall on Saturday and just had to take a picture, man.

Class is in session. From the most excellent Notes on New York. 

I’m on the subway last night and a short fat guy sits next to me. He takes out the New York Post and begins to read. Man next to him says, “Did you see the pictures of Caitlyn Jenner?”

The fat guy says he has not. So the other man takes out his phone and shows us a picture of Jenner.

The fat guy looks at it, shrugs and says, “So the hormones are working, huh?”

We talk about Jenner for a few minutes and the man with the phone says, “Hey, you gotta know yourself.”

The fat guy says, “That’s right.”

The Wife and I were away for a few days up in Vermont. Big sky country. Green, such a bright, fresh green, too. All that space is pleasing to the eye.

We got back last night and I looked out of our window and saw the lights from apartment buildings near us. So dense, so different. And that was comforting too. This morning, the subways were delayed and I sat in a crowded subway car with half of mind mind still in the country.

This picture reminds me that above all of this humanity, the sky is still big.

Block Party, 1977 Style. 

All freaks off the speakers…except for Jackie.

[Photo Credit: @flaviosamelo]

I enjoy taking pictures with my phone and of course I’m not alone. Lately I’ve noticed, especially downtown, stickers and pictures are pasted to doorways and fire hydrants and the bottom of telephone poles. In an Instagram world, there’s a self-awareness about tucking things in small, semi-hidden places, so they can be discovered, photographed and shared.

I don’t know if that was the case here, but what the hell, who puts an L.A. Dodgers sticker on a subway platform in the Bronx?

Seen in SoHo. I wish I could have seen the inside.

An Edward Hopper moment, downtown, night.

When we’re just getting up she’s already on the clock, getting it done.