Happy Meal

Just boys being boys.
Behaving erratically.
Drinking tea. Having conversation.
And fast food.
Without the toy. Without the clown.
Without the straw.
Without the attention deficit disorder.
They are better at life than most people I know.
Already.
[Cafe in Rome]

Body Language

Traveling makes you see the world for what it really is.
A little bit dirt. A little bit cobblestone.
And a lot of different ways to say bathroom.
It’s a mess of people.
With funny hair. Funny clothes.
Just as confused as you are.
They may walk slower. Talk faster.
Smoke more. Eat better. Think you’re crazy.
Have shoes that are worth more than your life.
But you are more alike than unalike.
Hug. Shake. Kiss. Wink. Wave.
Like you mean it.
Halfway around the world and I understand their language completely.
[Piazza Argentina, Rome]

Where's my peanuts and crackerjacks?

The Tigers are going to the World Series.
Ok.
Now I’m paying attention.
They have managed to peak the interest of even the part-time sports fan like myself. A fan whose loyalty has less to do with skill and more to do with team colors. And allegiance to my city.
My opinion of professional sports is irrelevant in this instant.
I can’t help it. I love seeing Detroit excited.
I love seeing people downtown. On the streets.
Even if it’s only a game.
Even if it’s only a bunch of dudes getting paid too much money to run around in a ballpark named after a bank.
Because it’s the one thing that has the power to make people forget, if only for a moment, all of the things that make them different from one another. Frolic amongst potholes and abandoned buildings. Hug and hi-five people they normally would not even make eye contact with.
The World Series is top of the line beer goggles for the masses.
So enjoy these next few days. Before the buzz wears off.
And the city goes quiet. Waiting for permission to smile again.
GO TIGERS!
[Royal Oak, Michigan]

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]

Proof

Yesterday was cold. Officially.
Summer is gone and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
[Shane Park in Birmingham, Michigan]

Wake Up

Alarm clock goes off.
I’m already awake, but I wait for it.
Shower.
Then turn on a morning news show.
It’s a bad habit.
Like sniffing glue.
The more you do it, the dumber you get.
You start to think it’s okay to speak in “pun”.
It’s not.
You got that Al Roker?
So today, I quit.
No more Good Morning America Today Wake Up San Francisco.
And maybe that means I won’t know what business casual really means.
Or if it’s raining outside.
But that’s what windows are for.
[Detroit Fire House]

No Pizza

I don’t know whether to be concerned by the fact this man is homeless…
Or by the fact he doesn’t like pizza.
Is it the sauce?
Is he on a low-carb diet?
Ah ha!
Maybe he is using reverse psychology.
Maybe he actually prefers pizza but has learned no one likes a choosey beggar.
And figures he is more likely to get some pie out of spite than by special request.
That is the first rule of communication.
Know your audience.
I imagine this is key when crafting an effective “throw me a bone” sign.
[New York City]

Office Space

Every job has its version of the cubicle.
His happens to be a ladder.
Decidedly smaller than mine.
But with a much better view.
[Birmingham, Michigan]

One Day

I would like to live above a storefront.
Especially one that sells delicious subs.
I'd also like to know the family that runs it.
Or the two brothers.
Ideally they'd have a good story.
Maybe they were lawyers who gave up six figures to make sandwiches.
And soup.
Maybe they argue sometimes.
I’d like them to know me by name.
And make me try their famous clam chowder even though I hate clams.
Even the word clam. Clam.
[Boston]

Hot Fun

Elephant ears for dinner.
Corn dogs for dessert.
Fragrant farm animals.
And strings of anxious neon lights.
This is summertime.
Ahh, to be over 48 inches tall, officially.
Wishing the night would last forever.
Wondering why Daddy’s pony tail is longer than Mommy’s.
[Michigan State Fair]

Thanks Ray

So when that little gas light in your car dings, just fill it up.
Even if you don’t feel like it.
And you’re late to work.
And you don’t want your freshly straitened hair to fro into a gigantic frizzball.
Just do it.
Or you’ll have to call Ray.
And he’ll have to tow your car.
And fill it up for you.
And laugh at you.
Hey, it’s cool.
[A gas station close to my work. But not close enough.]

Where's Waldo?

I’m pretty sure the guy who thought up the idea of “take-out” had that stroke of genius right here at this very eatery. He walked in and decided his Pad Thai would be way easier to swallow if he wasn’t having a seizure.
It's true. I'm no interior decorator but I do know that multi-colored Christmas lights do not go with vegetable wall decals. And as for the giant blue and purple bubbles on the walls, there is only one possible explanation: Vandalism. For the love of curry noodles, someone please alert the authorities.
[Thai Restaurant, Royal Oak Michigan]

Vice

I’ve adopted the smoke break.
Minus the smoking.
It started innocently. Just one.
Usually at around three. The time my brain activity nosedives.
Five minutes did it. A quick stroll around the block and I was somewhat ready to pretend to work for two more hours.
But then I started needing more. Two laps around the block. Sometimes some park action.
I’m up to like four non-smoke breaks a day now.
I can't stop.
[Outside a party store, Detroit]

Iron Man

Who is this character they call Vinnie?
Has he always wanted to make iron rails and cellar doors?
What does his laugh sound like? Where did he meet his wife?
What does Vinnie like on his pizza?
I'm just wondering.
[Brooklyn]

Discover the Falls

And by discover, the Niagara Falls Visitors Bureau means try not to run over any greasy tourists as you attempt to navigate through a clusterfuck* of bad attractions and worse restaurants only to find that the Falls are on display like a flippin’ zoo attraction.
Do I sound upset? I was.
I really wanted to “discover” the falls. Climb something. Follow a narrow twisted path that would slowly reveal this wonder of the world.
If your idea of a romantic getaway is the wax museum and chicken fingers at the Planet Hollywood with a view of people blocking the waterfall, right on.
For everyone else, experiencing all that is Niagara should take no more than 30 seconds. Unless it takes longer for you to find someone you think won’t run away with your camera to snap your picture.
*I don't like that word but it’s really the only way to describe the assault on your senses.
[Niagra Falls, Ontario]

Make Music

I’m fine with not being a rock star.
I had the chance and I blew it. Back in fifth grade.
In fifth grade I pretended to play the flute.
It was exhausting.
Learning how to not-read music. Hours of non-practicing.
Then one day I fell off my bike and fractured my elbow.
And I never had to pretend-play that stupid flute again.
Divine intervention.
But now that I’m older, I’m sad I don’t speak that language that music people do.
It's not too late though.
Drums. On my list. Watch out.
All I need is a garage.
[The Hentchmen at the Lager House, Detroit]

Pop Couture

I love the idea of a thrift shop.
For the simple reason that the Beatles concert tee from 1965 is actually from 1965 and not from Target’s Fall 2006 line. It was danced in. Sweated in. Slept in. And those seven lovely letters that adorn the front of the shirt were naturally and genuinely distressed.
I love the idea of a thrift shop for its authenticity.
Have I ever personally found anything at one? No. But i'm optimistic.
[Newbury Street, Boston]

Are your feathers real?

A not so little indian.
Named Tony.
Works the door at the Grand Canyon.[West Rim, Grand Canyon]

Sunday Best

Clad in lace and thick white pumps.
Armed with a shiny gold purse full of gum and Kleenex.
It’s Church Lady.
In all her glory.
She’s waited all week to receive the Body of Christ.
Today’s the day.
[Spanish mass at St. Peters Church, Brooklyn]

Starbucks who?

Places like this will never lose their charm.
Even if their tables wobble.
And their signs fade.
I’m a sucker for the quaint. And quirky.
Nothing against Starbucks. They are practical. You always know what to expect. Same kind of drinks. Same kind of service. And music. And chairs. And over-caffeinated under-stimulated people.
What’s the fun in that?
[A café in Boston’s Little Italy]

Immitation Silk Shirts

Homeboy found his calling in life.
Seller of gold chains and pinky rings.
We should all be so lucky.
[China Town, NYC]

Liberty

Just a guy living the American Dream.
[Battery Park on New Years Day]