St. Patty’s Day. Stay out of trouble and be safe.
It’s less than 24 hours since the news broke–Jacoby Ellsbury is going to be a Yankee. So: Is this a good thing or not? He’s a fine player but he’s been hurt more than somewhat. Does this mean Cano is a goner or does it mean the Yanks know that Alex is in for a long suspension and hell with it, they’re going to sign Robbie as well?
We didn’t see this one coming, that’s for sure. But back to my pernt–it’s been less than a full day since we heard about this, which is more than enough time for people to weigh in on it.
Here’s the word from:
I’ll update this as the reviews are filed today.
[Picture by Bags]
I was on Thompson Street last weekend when I saw an old woman dressed in black. She had on a long raincoat and was wearing bright red lipstick. We smiled at each other and said hello. I asked if she was from the block and she said no but that she was from the neighborhood.
“You’ve seen it change a lot,” I said.
“Yes. Some for the better, some for the worse,” she said.
What was worse I asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention.”
[Picture by Bags]
My grandparents lived across the street from the Museum of Natural History. They were older grandparents, not the kind to get down on the floor and play with my sister, brother and me. When in doubt, they took us to the Museum. We went so often that for years I never returned. It just reminded me of being bored out of my skull. But when I was in my twenties I went back and remembered just how cool the place is. I haven’t been in awhile but am down to go again.
[Picture by Bags]
I understand why they move slowly down south. This heat, man, it’s not meant for rushing around. Still, the city cooks along at it’s brisk pace despite a heat wave. But many of us are taking caution to move as deliberately as possible. Gotta pace yourself in this weather, man.
I lived in Brooklyn from 1994-2000 and I remember this bookstore. Odd dude ran it, smoked cigarettes–which was kinda nice, really–but the place was closed all the time. Never knew when you’d stumble past and it’d be open. Still, glad to see it’s still there.
Picture by Bags.
Get to the uptown platform of the IRT last night and there is a train in the station. Looks like it has been there for a while. I find an opening and slide in. There’s an announcement overhead that because of a sick passenger at our station the local trains are going express from 42nd to 72nd. Now I’m at a local stop between those stations but I figure I’d wait it out. Then, the train goes out of service so everybody empties out on the platform. We’re standing there, close together, and I still figure to wait it out when I see three EMT workers move their way through the crowd. This could take some time so I walk away, up to the street, where it is now raining, cross Broadway and enter the downtown station. Almost slip twice–damn weak ass shoes.
Figure I’ll go one stop to Times Square and then transfer for the uptown train running express.
Now, I don’t think I should have to pay again but there is no booth clerk on the downtown platform anymore. I consider jumping the turnstiles and feel righteous about it. Hey, if a cop stops me, I’ve got a story. But I don’t do it. Why? Cause I figure I’m going to bust my ass in the process. So I pay again and I’m on the platform when I look across the station and the uptown platform is cleared out. Local is running again and an announcement says the next local train will arrive in one minute.
Cue the Benny Hill music.
Dammit, so I exit, walk back across Broadway in the rain and then into to the uptown station agian. Now, I really don’t see paying again, but there is a long line at the clerk’s booth and I want to make this train more than anything, so screw it, I pay again. That’s $7.50 for one ride and you know what? I wanted to get home so I didn’t spend any energy being pissed off about it.
Fug it. And the point is, sure I got screwed but at least I didn’t bust my ass.
I had ravioli last weekend. Man, it’s an indulgence but they’s just so damn good. And this picture by Bags reminded me of how much I enjoy peas.
Good thing there are still some low-budget, no-frills greasy spoons left in this town.
Ask Bags, he knows.