Hoop Dreams

Rhythm is a necessary social skill.
Don’t underestimate the power of this round piece of plastic.
If you do one thing today, hula hoop.
No one has to know.
Go in your room. Close the door. And hula hoop.
To key is to rock.
The challenge is to stop laughing.
[Central Park]

Hater

The lack of patriotism in the states is disheartening.
This woman hates America so much, she has mutilated the very symbol of our freedom.
A banner that once waved now drapes on a hanger with the likes of sweaters with cats on them and mock turtlenecks.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she had bald eagle casserole for dinner.
[Oktoberfest in Frankenmuth, Michigan]

See, he loves me.

Nothing says I Love You like oversized highly flammable stuffed animals that smell like carnie.
I’m serious.
Tossing a bean bag into the mouth of a clown at just the right angle three times in a row does not happen on accident.
We are talking years of practice. Summers filled with disappointment and shame. Consolation teddy bears. The small neon colored ones.
All so that someday, the one you love will know just how much you care.
This the kind of thing that prepares you for life.
You want something? You have to work for it. And have an endless supply of dollar bills.
Its not all fun and games at carnival.
The second the chain-smoking She-male hands over that large hard bear, boys become men.
[Michigan State Fair]

People Watchin

I like this guy.
For a lot of reasons.
But mostly because he’s not behind the wheel of monstrous Cadillac, trying to ruin my life while I make my way home from work.
Like some of his pals.
A group of people with hands firmly planted at 10 and 2. A cozy distance from the windshield.
How easily they forget that the lines are our friends.
[Little Italy, NYC]

Got the time?

I’m over the whole clock thing.
Watches. Microwaves. Church bells. The upper right-hand corner of my computer screen.
I don’t make champagne wishes. I don’t have caviar dreams.
Success to me is the day I wake up and I don’t care what time is it.
I don’t work at nine. I don’t eat at noon. And I don’t sit in rush hour traffic with the other robots.
Until then, my alarm clock is the boss of me.
And I will use every second of my PTO to go places that don’t have clocks.
So I don’t ever forget how big the world is.
How small the world is.
How much I don’t know.
Or how lucky I am that I figured it out.
[Central Park]

Vehicle

Something tells me this kid isn’t going to grow up wanting a Hummer.
This is good because that is one less person I will have to hate.
I don’t find it constructive to judge others, it’s just a reflex.
Hating Hummer drivers is like scratching insect bites.
It won’t make them go away but it feels good.
So when you pull up next to me at a stoplight in a canary yellow defense weapon on chrome, I will judge you.
Not for your irresponsible use of resources.
Or your abject attempt to validate your status.
I will judge you because you fell for it.
I will judge you because you just don’t get it and you probably never will.
[Brooklyn]

If you got it

Flaunt it.
And if you don’t got it.
Flaunt it in the middle of Central Park.
With the Central Park Dance Skaters Association.
The C.P.D.S.A.
That’s right, they’ve got their very own acronym.
Past their prime, with moves that would put Kevin Bacon to shame.
Rocking a somewhat disturbing ratio of skin to spandex.
The C.P.D.S.A. is so wrong, it’s right.
Catch the dancers, skaters, and dancing skaters on Saturday and Sunday between 2:30 and 6:30.
Who said the freaks come out at night?
[Central Park]

Put a record on

What is this wonderfully gigantic cardboard pocket with strange Frisbee inside?
I was born just after the mix-tape.
My walkman was my life.
CDs were an easy transition.
I remember going to Circuit City with my dad to pick out a boom-box.
It was a little less than 3 feet wide.
Five disc changer. Five.
I didn’t even own five CDs.
But I had an awesome CD tower that curved.
Technology has come a long way.
iPod.
But I worry about generation iPod.
It is too easy.
Just a little too accessible.
And slightly anti-climatic.
There’s no riding your bike to the record store.
Surrendering every cent you made from baby-sitting the night before.
No cellophane wrap to struggle with.
Just point. And click.
And forget.
[Brooklyn]

I've see this one

The sleeveless tee. The white belt. The Ray-bans.
Bike propped up against the fence at a slight angle.
Sometimes I feel like I’m watching a movie.
Like there’s a director somewhere, telling people exactly what to wear. How to stand.
Hand behind head. Lean left cheek on right arm.
Move left leg forward. A little more. Perfect.
Scene 12, Take 4. Action.
Is that weird?
How with the right shady character, a Sunday afternoon in the park during a friendly game of softball can seem like an episode of 21 Jump Street?
[Brooklyn]

Concrete Jungle

I love New York because it is inconvenient.
It makes you work a little harder.
It wears you out.
It forces you to interact with life.
With the street musicians. With taxi cab drivers. Hot dog venders. Hipsters. Baristas. Pigeons. Trash. Trees. Graffiti. Flower shops. Coffee shops. People riding subway. People riding bikes. People talking on cell phones. People talking to themselves.
You can't hide from life in New York City.
Poor. Rich. Dirty. Ugly. Hungry. Spectacular. Honest. Unforgettable.
I love New York. Unconditionally.
[Chinatown, NYC]

The Motown Sound

This is the Motor City.
But all you need to get where your going is a song.
[Detroit]