Ivories on the tracks.

A solo piano is a welcoming softness to the otherwise screeching nuisance that is the West 4th Street stop.


I've seen the (self-titled) Crazy Piano Guy before; looking forward to the next time as well.

Hello old friend.

Bleeker Street tonight, enjoying Boston College's victory over Boston "your mascot is a lap dog" University in the Bean Cup. Walking back to the train I detoured to Washington Square Park to check out the arch, one of my favorite staples of the villages. Past the skateboarding kids taking advantage of the drained fountain I snapped a few photogs.


New Yorkers can thank the City Beautification movement of the late 1890's and early 1900's for the arch. I won't bore you with the history of the movement (boring it is not), but spend some time on Wiki if you want to know more.

Pepto, please.

The Saints won. My stomach lost.

Victory points go to the seven six layer dip and veggie chili and Velveeta mystery combination. Both are pictured here, devoured and destroyed.

My contribution? More consumption than production.

Do not be fooled.

Meet Maisy:

Say hi to Julius:


Did you ooh? Maybe awww?

Well don't. Don't be fooled. Their cute faces and matching sweaters mask their sinister plots to chew through messenger bags, hog the couch, and generally make one scream, Why are you DOING THAT?! on a semi-regular basis.

Reverse commute. In style.

Sonofabitch.

Somewhere between an early dinner at 88 Orchard and a cab ride out of the LES, I received a text regarding a prior commitment for Friday. The problem? The commitment was in New Jersey. At 8:30 in the morning. The day after my birthday.

Like I said. Sonofabitch.

Luckily my friend MS came to the rescue. One extremely generous offer on her part and a trip to the East 90's later, and I had a luxury ride available to me for an early morning trip to the Dirty.

6:30am - Rise & shine
7:00am - Departure
8:27am - Arrive at high school
8:30am - Talk, babble, & ramble
10:30am - Done
10:31am - Dazed & confused



Pictured above is my graduating class's gift to the school. Most schools have some sort of monument, plaque or 4ft x8ft sheet of plywood acknowledging the existence of school pride, right? Not Lenape. Nope - we made it nearly 30 years without one. What we lacked in school pride we made up for in indifference. I mean, it's hard to rally around anything when the most successful "athletic" team in school history was the academic quiz bowl.

Yes, you could have quiz bowl on the back of your varsity jacket. And yes, there was a "select bunch" that did. No, I did not have one of these precious gems.

Another year, another blog address.

Perhaps it's time I register bills26th.blogspot.com.


Thank you to everyone for the warm birthday wishes - whether on Facebook, over the phone, or in person.

It was a year ago that I tossed around the idea of this blog. It's been fun. Challenging. A pain in my (then) working ass. But I loved it. I still love it.

Cheers.

Sometimes the day can take an unexpected turn.

As my day took form, I thought I'd be here writing about the fact that Staten Island Chuck seriously effed this one up:


I'm not saying Chuck should have been able to predict the Human Bird Feeder would be such good friends with the winged rats of New York; check out the snow. We haven't had that since 2009. Way to go Chuck. You lost to the Al Roker of Groundhog Day. SonofaB.

But on my way home tonight I found myself walking to the front of a six train. Not by choice.

We were stopped and forced to walk to the front car because we hit something. Or someone. Let's not talk about it. Move along. Nothing to see here.

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.

I'm one of them now.

I found myself back at 88 Orchard today, this time pulling up a spot by my lonesome. Laptop out, large coffee ordered, headphones on.

Heads down, thumbs up. Seven up.

I used to be generally curious about the coffee shop cult - type type typing away with a half drank cup of cold coffee next to them. Hoarding every four top with their expansive spread of Macbook, notebooks, and various electronic gizmos. Why don't they have jobs? Is this what professional bloggers do? But here I was, struggling to find a spot near a power strip in order to feed my day-long hang out. Don't hate me; I found myself a two top to call home.


My roommate runs a great spot. The coffee is strong and fresh, and the staff is always warm and considerate. They're launching a new dinner menu this week that promises to be delicious. Check out the menu here. And they have booze now. Added bonus.