On the way to Midtown Loft; it seems each ribbon symbolizes not one but two soldiers killed in Iraq.
Midotwn loft; the workshop was on the fourth floor; one W.C. for the women, one for the men (and women).
Checking out Saturn in Park Slope. The guy behind me, taking a drink of "coffee," is the sabelotodo (know-it-all) who acted as if the telescopes were his.
The line to get into NYC's first Trader Joe's. Suckers.
The all-white bicycle represents a cyclist killed by a motorist; apparently they're all over the city. In the background is the venerable Puck Building, where Guruji's workshop is usually held.
My olde veg-friendly haunte in Chelsea, where one may dine alone and not feel foolish. The horchata is good but not great.
Rock 'n' roll, man.
NY Dolls at CBGB; the small red figure on the left is David Johansen, who seemed miffed by the lack of applause, complaining that "this isn't a golf match."