Seen in the bathroom of a bar in the East Village.

In case you’d forgotten: Dylan is the Still King.

Dial “W” for murder.

A photo gallery of Weegee’s murder photography over at the most wunnerful How to be a Retronaut.

Here’s another Weegee gallery, this one at the New York Times.

There was a cool photo gallery of Steven Siegel’s photography yesterday at The Gothamist.

Check out Seigel’s tremendous Flickr galleries. They are dope.

 

Seen…

At the MTA Museum in Grand Central.

[Photo Credit: Dayo]

My son has a friend who collects Metrocards. He is four. He keeps them in plastic baseball card sheets. When he  handles a card, he imediately flips it over to check the design on the back. He can probably distinguish every Metrocard back from the last ten years. He gets disappointed when he comes across a “common” back, the same way we’d be deflated by finding Buddy Biancalana instead of Don Mattingly in a pack of 1986 Topps.

He dressed as a Metrocard for Halloween. When the soccer coach splits them up for a little scrimmage at the end of practice, he convinces his team to name themselves the Metrocards.

His collection brought back memories from my youth. With an older brother blazing the trail, we had a lot of collections. One of the earliest ones I can remember was a collection of patches. My mom would sew them on my plain hooded sweatshirt until there was no space left. And then we’d get a new sweatshirt.

I had baseball patches, Star Wars patches, museum patches (Air & Space and Natural History), NASA patches, superhero patches, really anything that a kid might like that was available in patch form. In the winter, I insisted wearing the sweatshirt over heavier jackets so the patches would always be prominent.

How about you guys, can you remember something from your youth, maybe something a little odd, that you loved with your whole heart?

[Photo via Benjamin Kabak and secondavesnuesagas.com]

How many people do we see each day walking through the streets of the city? Hundreds? Sometimes thousands? If you stop and look it is easy to imagine a story in behind everything you see.

[Photo Credit: Louis Faurer, Penn Station, 1948]

Another morning, another increasingly desperate search for the metrocard. I just can’t seem to get it under control.

I feel like a little kid who can’t think ahead so he keeps running into the same problems. An adult should have created a system to keep this from happening long ago, yet here I am looking for the damn card again.

Yesterday’s pants? Nope. Yesterday’s jacket? The spot beside the stove where we put things? Nope squared. The spot on the shelf, that graveyard of insufficient fares? I hope not, that would have been an insane place to leave it. But better check. Nope. Not next to the computer. Not next to the bed. Not on the vanity in the hall. Holy crap, am I infantile, senile or just the laziest dumbass on the block?

Here’s my problem. My wallet is magnetic, so keeping the metrocard in my wallet murders it. I learned that the hard way with a plump card, maybe forty bucks down the drain. So I keep my metrocard as far away from my wallet as possible. In the summer, that means my metrocard is in my pants pocket and my wallet is zipped up inside my bag. In the winter, there’s the additional option of coat pockets.

When I get home I cannot train myself to think about the card. Either it stays in my pocket, which would make for a relatively easy search, or I absentmindedly place it on the first open surface I encounter. The latter tendency spices up the mornings.

And everytime I say to myself, this is the last time I’m doing this.

[Photo via mynewyorkworld.com]

This will make your day. It sure made mine.

[Photo Credit: Susan NYC]

Check this out:

I saw a couple on the train this morning who were not shy about showing their affection. It was as if they were all alone, or perhaps they just get their kicks smooching in a crowd. Who knows?

It was warm on Saturday afternoon. Here’s the wife as the 1 train rolls into the station. Yup, she’s a good one.

The Iron Horse in the Bronx.

Sure, there can be problems on the train. If you live uptown, service can be sketchy on the weekends. But it’s incredible to me that the trains run as well as they do.

Before I walk into an elevator I look up at the mirror. Force of habit from when I was a kid. Maybe “Dressed to Kill” got into my head. More likely, it’s a reflex I developed growing up in New York during a time when you expected to get mugged at any moment. I know it might be extreme now, but the mirror is there for a reason. When the elevator doors open I brace myself and look up at the mirror. Just in case.

I’ve still got to see this show.

[Photo Credit: Frank W. Ockenfels 3/FX]

I saw a kid on the train today with a Daniel Boone hat. Go figure that. What’s old is new.

The platform at 238th street this morning was almost empty. So was the train. Not a bad feeling, especially knowing how mad Manhattan will be come tomorrow night.

Going to the movies in a snowstorm? Now, that’s a good idea. I saw “The Color of Money” during a blizzard. What movies have you seen in the theater when it was snowing outside?

[Photo Credit: Pete Turner via the incredible site, This Isn’t Happiness]

Do you want to know a secret?

Here’s a good one via Kottke. Picture by Geoff Manaugh.

“Hold on for a second, I’ll get you a tissue,” I said to my son after I heard him sniffling on the couch.

I scanned the desk and there were no tissues. I headed to the kitchen, snagged two from the box and turned back. He was still sitting on the couch, but he now wore a devilish grin.

“Did you eat that booger?” I asked.

“No.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Boogers are hard.”

“What are you saying?”

“I didn’t eat a booger.”

“What did you eat then?”

“Snot.”

The sun is bright today and we haven’t seen any snow yet in New York. With only a few days before Christmas I’m sure there are some who’d like to see that change.

In the meantime, check out another wonderful photo gallery from our pals at How to Be a Retronaut.

[Photo Credit: Alfred Stieglitz]