Moving on.

This was fun.

No...really. This was a blast. Capturing things one picture at a time was an exciting challenge. I never would have guessed that I would become so enamored with photographing the everyday. Some pictures I loved while others left something to be desired, but along the way I was learning. I hope you've enjoyed the day-to-day.

In an effort to focus on quality over regularity, I've decided to no longer continue with the daily photos. I will now be posting on a new page, http://catchthatphoto.wordpress.com. With this new format I hope to better share my "semi-regular" photos. (Hell, I'm sure updates will be more frequent there than they were here.)

Thank you to everyone that stopped by this little page over the past year and shared your feedback, comments, and photos. I'm looking forward to hearing from you over on the new site!

Cheers,
BK

Camera shy.

I followed this poor sap for a good five minutes. It was not a proud moment for either of us.

Umbrellas, sunglasses, and gyros.

All for $5.


Other city staples that cost around $5:

Pashmina's

Gray's Papaya's Recession Special

Two rides on the subway (like you're ever going to hold on to the card and its remaining oddball change)

Sunday editions of the Big3 papers (Times, Post, Daily News)

100 postcards (if you shop correctly)

Good dog.

I doubt this dog owner was actually trying to shield her pup's eyes from something, but the look is adorable nonetheless.

Tastes like victory.

Red, please.

Happy Mother's Day.

The K's were in town today for a little taste of downtown. Another walking tour moseying through the Lower East Side, Little Italy and Chinatown. Pickles included, frog lets not.

Windy weekend.

Much of the day was spent people watching in New York's premier PW spot - Union Square. The square's proximity to NYU, the East Village, and Brooklyn via the L train provides an ever-changing crowd of individuals to gawk at. The downside to today's lazy afternoon was the wind. To call it strong would be nice; $%*#ing awful is more accurate. Artists struggled to keep their works weighed down, and I squinted to keep Union Square's finest dust out of my eyes.

The kite guy, though - he was having a blast.

What's scarier?

So what's scarier? This cell phone picture of a building in Central Park or the fact that I'm training* for a half-marathon in a month and half?


*Training is a loose term.

Drive by.

Midtown parking garage.

Unmentionables.

17th street, a block west of Union Square.

Sadtrombone.com

This is what a burst housing bubble looks like:

Brooklyn sunset.

South Bronx memories.

I took a trip up to the Bronx to see what's left of the original Yankee Stadium. Rather then imploding the icon and giving the neighborhood the park it is still owed, Uncle George and Co. are picking it apart piece by piece.

Sure, Yankee Stadium was a decrepit excuse for a stadium. The hallways were cramped with Big Bob's from Brooklyn and one too many Dip 'n Dots carts. Bathroom lines were long and the upper deck was cramped. But you know what? That's the way baseball is supposed to be. You, me, and Freddie, squeezed too tightly together in a beer stained arena watching today's Yankees playing on the same field as the Babe. Santana pitching on the same mound where Lou Gehrig made his proclamation. The right field corner that Paul O'Neil defended with such ridiculous strength. Fights breaking out acround the stadium on some idle Tuesday night when Boston is in town.

Enough of that. What's done is done. But I don't know if I'll ever get used to exiting the 4 train and not turning left towards Stan's and the bleacher entrance.


More pictures here.

A sweet taste of New Jersey.

Sure signs that warm weather has arrived:

1) Bug bites
2) Later and later sunsets
3) Roadside sundaes.

Springtime at Bryant Park.

"Doesn't mean me."

Protest.

Maybe FedEx raised the price of copies. Perhaps Dress Barn stopped selling petites. Whatever the case, nothing says lunch hour like a little protest

Subway drums.

Yes, yes, another picture underground. This guy was stationed on the NRW stop at 59th Street. Crowd was into it; kids were dancing. It was a swell time.

Hotter than hell, but swell.

Hot damn, this weather is fine.

Work is busy. Life is crazy busy. Best I could do on this beautiful day was snap a photo or two in midtown while waiting for my lunch-partner-in-crime. This weather is putting everyone in a better mood; let's hope it means we'll avoid another summer Rain Watch.

FDR at night.

People go here.

Somewhere in midtown. Atrocious bystander conveniently cropped out of view.

(Almost) never a fan.

I generally loathe cats. Small cats, fat cats, and in this case oversized artistic cats. Doesn't matter. If you can't fetch, you're not for me.

There was only one cat I ever liked, and he spent most of his time chewing on a sofa cushion and living in a bag.

Enough said.

Brooklyn is

Three parts brick, one part mortar. Mix.

Add two parts paint for authenticity. Splash of skinny jeans for irony.

Harlem to Brooklyn (lager).

The day started off in Harlem sprucing up St. Nicholas Park, part of a friend's community service committment through an organization. One work day, a boxed lunch, and an undetermined amount of dirt-in-shoes, I was back in Brooklyn enjoying a cold one. Dinner at Sea was - per usual - loud and "scene-like" - but their pad thai and Rama the King dishes are tough to pass up. The hardest part about this place is convincing Manhattanites to leave their island for a few hours.

Spring is in the the beer aisle.

Good grief, Charlie B.

Spring beers are back and they're bangin'. Whole Foods - spot on. A trip to Pony Bar is in order.

Batter up.

Corporate softball - where careers go to prosper.

In a pursuit for camaraderie, high fives, and good cheer, I joined my friend's softball team. This team is on the other side of the spectrum from the team I used to play on, but I'll keep that story for another time and place (like happy hour).

Tonight's first game was against a team of Googlers in Central Park - rainy, cold, and dark - less than perfect softball weather. The perfect season came to an end, but there's nothing wrong with going 11-1.

Oh, and the horse?



I ran into him on the way into the park. He played right field. And was our best hitter.

Hey there, neon.

A warehouse parking garage in an otherwise gut-renovated and luxury high rise neighborhood. Sweet sign, man. Reminded me of the one in midtown.

No, I don't want a swig of your beer.

Wish I was carrying a real camera at the time for this one. This guy was great. Flirtin' with the ladies, chastizing the guys, posing for shots.

Sidewalk intruder.

Anywhere New York. Anywhere Philly. Anywhere urban.

Better than strollers, tourists, and uncurbed dogs. Weeds - like subway rats, find a way.

Worst. Fan. Ever.

It’s true. I effed up.

Back story – knowing I am a Pittsburgh Penguins hockey fan, my friend pulled a 13 on the Awesome Scale of 1 to 10 and scored four tickets to the last game of the regular season against the NY Islanders. Have you ever been to Nassau Coliseum? No? Good – keep it that way. What’s technically labeled a hockey arena, it should be burned to the ground, paved over, and done again. The smell of wet socks and sin permeates what is otherwise a pretty part of the Island. A palace it is not. But I digress.

So there we are, sitting corner ice; great view of the game. Sid the Kid gets his 50th and 51st goals of the season. We eat hot dogs and beers; standard. The girls get Dip ‘n Dots.

Still not sure it’s actually ice cream. And let it be known cotton candy should remain cotton candy. Worst ice cream flavor EVER.

Speaking of generally terrible things…

The game pushes to overtime after the Pens flake and lose their heads in third period. I’m nervous for a game that has zero bearing on the playoffs. I’ve yet to hit the bathroom. I’m two beers and a ginormous Coke into the game. See where this is going?

BK: Pens are playing like *%&#. I think I’m going to the bathroom.
Friend: Umm, okay.
BK: It’s right downstairs, right? I don’t want to miss the shootout.
Friend: Umm……okay.

There was no shootout to miss.

Eaton to Malkin to Leo. Boom. Game.

Sounded like a great win from the bathroom. Shame. A generous helping of I told you so’s (I was never told anything) and What were you thinking’s were served up on the ride home.

Cotton candy Dip ‘n Dots still suck.



Let’s go Pens. Senators are next. Do it.

Boston College is National Champs...

...in ice hockey. Woooooooooo!

East River at night.

Facing south (Queensboro Bridge).



More to come from this night.

Shoes and shadows.

Somewhere in midtown.

Leftover Peeps turned arts & crafts.

Clearance-priced Peeps + Rice Krispee Treats + Fruit by the Foot = Peep-ushi.

Righty tighty lefty loosey.

A Brooklyn staple.

No, I'm not talking about the Dodgers of old, the pizza of your grandfather, or the prettiest bridge south of the GW. I'm referring to hipsters.

Obviously.

This way home.

*Click* *Click* *Click*
*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*
*Click* *Click*

"That's my favorite sign."
"Oh yeah?"

*Click* *Click* *Click*

"Yeah, I've always *Click* *Click* loved it."

*Click* *Click*

"Hmm."



*Click*

California's burning.

I woke up to blue skies and warm sunlight, but not the burst of spring that sprung New York's flowerbeds to life. I was in Valencia, California joining my friend as her plus one to a wedding.

Weeds-like setting, check.
Golf course ceremony, score.
Skinny black tie, done and done.

Picture of the day, sure.

Waiting for the 6.

It should go without saying that birds on the subway platform leave the rest of the commuters indifferent.

But what if this little dude actually got on the train?

Now THAT would make rush hour interesting.

Not an April Fool's joke...

There really is a naked bronze woman that greets people to my office building every day.

Evening mass.

Unknown church on Broadway; somewhere between 14th and 8th Streets.

Why do I even bother with this place?

This was not why I came to Macy's.

I swung by the Devil's Retail Playground tonight on a quest for the perfect white French cuff shirt. There's a wedding coming up this weekend and, well, I need a new white shirt. More on that later if/when I find it. The point of this message is to warn all spring allergy victims to avoid Macy's.

Avoid it like you avoid Black Friday.

If the ground floor wasn't hectic already, it seems as if the flower district moved a few blocks north and rooted (ha!) itself here. And there were caged birds. And water installations. Awful. Simply awful.

But a decent photo-opp.



Name these flowers and win something awesome.

More than sandwiches and smokes.

For the normal day-to-day, bodegas are clutch - the horse that never loses. Twenty four hours a day, where else can you find a pack of smokes, baby diapers, a killer sandwich, and yes, flowers? Deli flowers last for days and are sans the God-awful box.

Slow Sunday

On Sunday, the party split up - one to the west coast, one stayed east. Judging by this picture, it's easy to figure out where I spent my Sunday.

I meandered around D.C. with an old friend. Brunch, tourist traps, the whole 9. Although I must say, the conversation that proceeded helped to melt the crowds of incessant picture takers (worse than me, can you believe it?) into a silent mush around us.

"It's called the Metro."

UPDATE: "It's called Metro. There's no the."

Noted.


It is no secret that I take too many pictures underground. Combine my hobby of people watching with the fact that my attention span is oftentimes shorter than the wait for the next train and what you get is a wandering camera lens.

I was in D.C. this weekend and experienced their Metro for the first time. Of course my camera was with me, and of course this has to be PotD. My thoughts on the subway Metro?

• Cleaner than New York
• More punctual than Philly
• Faster than Chicago
• Anything's better than Boston

My biased self still prefers New York's system for its fare simplicity; but then again maybe if we had a costs-more-the-farther-you-travel system the MTA wouldn't be up to its proverbial eyeballs in debt.

Additional shots have been/will be uploaded here.

Joker tested, rider approved.

I noticed two kids snapping photos of this sign while waiting for uptown 6. Bahhh, tourists. Or so I thought.


Clearly, this is not one of the normal signs depicting the 48,493 weekly construction changes. Clearly, this was hilarious.

And then I realized that the joke was on us, all of us. Here comes the $100 monthly metro card.

This photo cost a buck.

I remember the first time I had a subway churro. I was between transfers with a friend, maneuvering the heavy weekend crowd that infests midtown retail stores. We were lugging bags of who-knows-what after a day of shopping for God-only-knows. We trekked past a young guy manning a shopping cart of Churros on the Queens-bound side of the platform. I paused, turned to my friend, and wondered out loud...

Have you ever had a Churro?
Not from a shopping cart. Do you think they're any good?
I don't know, isn't most street meat good?
We are neither on the street nor are Churro's made of meat.
Well that settles it.

One dollar and two sets of sugary fingers later we were munching on KMart-branded Churros. And you know what? Not half bad. A little on the buttery side, but when has that ever been a bad thing?


This Churro pusher refused to stand by her cart when I started taking pictures. It was only after dropping a GW on her product that she realized I wasn't with the city permit department.