Showing posts with label worth a buck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worth a buck. Show all posts

Thursday, March 25, 2010

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.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Just a buck.

Slice of pizza on St. Marks.
Half a hotdog from the corner cart.
2.2 minutes of cellular airtime.
Tipping a musical act on the subway.
Half a Starbucks coffee.

15 postcards from touristy Herald Square.


Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Serious drummer envy.

It's no secret that I'm a fan of street music. New York. Philly. Above Ground. Underground. Doesn't matter. Strike a chord or bang a drum bucket. I have a grand amount of respect for those who throw it down for all of society to see and hear. Most are decent. Some make you cringe. A small few really engage their audience.

Meet Mike Alaska.







An Alaskan from Texas? Who knows; I don't. But his drumming is nonetheless ridiculous.

In completely unrelated news, Staten Island Chuck is calling for an early spring. Sweet.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Any given Sunday. Or Thursday. Or Monday.

This guy knows how to jam and he does it CON. STANT. LY. Days, nights, and especially the weekends. Holidays? Forget it - he's around more often than the Salvation Army buckets (and we know that's quite a feat this year).



Throw him your change if you ever see him - his beats are worth it.