Guess who was in Times Square yesterday afternoon?
Guess who was on the other side of Times Square from the stabbing yesterday afternoon?
Guess who didn’t see police running over to help, civilians shrieking out in fear, and/or tourists running for their lives?
This is why I tell people not to go to Times Square. A pack of lions could jump you and somebody right in front of you wouldn’t hear you scream. It’s a dangerous place.
I mean, it’s not the Bronx, but it’s dangerous.

Just read that Michael Hastings, a reporter for Rolling Stone, died in a car accident today. He was 33.
I never read much of Mr. Hastings’ work, to be honest. I only heard about him through hearsay during the outing of Gen. McChrystal. But it goes without saying that Michael’s work during this time was phenomenal.
That’s not a word that gets thrown around too often anymore in journalism. “Phenomenal.” When was the last time you saw some really phenomenal muckraking?
Cool Bro and I were having a conversation earlier about TV shows. He was pissed because Americans have to settle for “just good enough.” And most of the time, “just good enough” is stellar for America, because that’s top of the line right there. Very rarely does a show come along that knocks all of the other dreck out of the park.
Michael Hastings was one of those journalists who knocked everyone else out of the park. The HuffPo writers, the Reuters folks, the major network hot shots. And now Mr. Hastings is gone, and we have to settle for “just good enough” journalism again. Or do we?
Dear journalism students of the future: It’s rough. It’s really fucking rough to get underneath this world’s skin nowadays. But don’t give up, because if you can dig up the shit that lies beneath, you don’t even need to turn it into gold. You’ll have done something much more valuable than that.
Shameless plug for Betty Who, who I was directed to through Tumblr. The indie-pop sound on her new EP is entrancing. And she’s a New Yorker, so of course I’m going to play that up. Go, NYC artsy community!
Click that play button, and then click through to her Soundcloud for more of her stuff. I promise you, it’s highly enjoyable.
Immediate (free!) download of 5-track (demo) EP in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
Possible Strawberry — Tracklist:
1. Math Made The Sea
2. In A Rut (Whilst Modest Mouse Plays In The Background)
3. You Failed Kindergarten, Little Jimmy
4. For That Special Something
5. Can I Make My Old Friends Again?
I’m actually proud of this little collection. Maybe it’s because I haven’t listened to it enough to let my caterwauling and shitty guitar skills nag at me for long enough yet. (No, Will. You are good at things. Shush. Shushhhh.)
There’s a big old premiere event for World War Z in Times Square, and although I cant help but express my complete lack of interest in either the movie or large crowds, it’s still pretty cool that Brad Pitt’s here. So there’s that.
I’m gonna get out of here before zombies eat my flesh, or something.
I want to go back to 2003 to show my 12-year-old self this picture and tell him, “Someday you will try to write a song like John Darnielle. You will never be John Darnielle. Jeff Rosenstock, maybe.”
And my 12-year-old self will say, “I GOT BILLY JOEL CDS FOR HANNUKAH!” And I will slip back into the time-space continuum, and weep.
So! Today I visited four parks in the span of eight hours. I started off in Central, traveled way up north to Pelham Bay, dropped down to Prospect, and ended up in McCarren to catch the last bit of a Walkmen concert.
Parks are important places, friends. They bring people together with nature, with each other, with themselves. They are in the one place in a big city where you and I can go and escape the tall buildings, the rush of the day-to-day, and enjoy basking and breathing in the natural beauty of this planet.
And if your friends don’t think that parks are necessary, then you have every right to fight them, because maybe they’re not really your friends.
I can seriously see myself running a side blog about all of the halal food carts in New York, and analyzing the fare with a tone of expertise.
For example:
- “23rd St. & Lex is a haven for halal fans. The fine chefs at this cart even add crispy fries to their shawarma platters, which - in my opinion - no proper shawarma platter should be without.”
- “The cart at 72nd and 5th provides Central Park with pretty standard fare. The caramelized onions in their gyros is a nice touch, but otherwise this corner is nothing to sniff at.”
- “This food cart is on fire. It has been burning for two days. I did not order from this establishment.”
Doing some park hopping on this beautiful day. Probably heading to Pelham Bay later, because why not go way the heck out of my way for no reason other than “It’s a nice day outside?”
Also in unrelated news: The scene is alive and well on planet Earth. Tell your friends.
Yeezus is an important album for all members of the human race (within reason) to listen to. (Don’t have your kids listen to it. That’s what I meant by “within reason.” You might get a lot of questions which you may not know how to answer.)
But that’s not why I like the album so much. And I know that I raved about how Ye clearly loves this album with his heart enough to share it with an unforgiving world. I love this album because it is an honest album, one without any filter, one without any regrets. It is Kanye speaking about not only what he genuinely knows and feels, but about what the world should wake up and understand.
And while the delivery of that message may seem a bit brash, it’s necessary roughness. What, do you think Kanye’s going to whisper? Who whispers when they’re angry?
I love this album, and I hope that I understand it enough to have the privilege of listening to it. Here’s a song which I think will grow on me. It’s called “Bound 2.”
Tomorrow I think I’m going to head back to Bedford Ave. I don’t have work for the next few days, and Long Island and the Rockaways are in my immediate future, but a trip back to that super-hipstery area of Brooklyn is also, and Bedford Avenue is quickly becoming a permanent fixture on my “places to hang out” list.
Look, I know that I speak a lot about “places where I love to hang out in New York!” And I’m sure that it makes me sound like a shitty person. I’m not a New Yorker by any means. I’m an Upstate bumpkin trying to make a name for himself here in the Big City. But I don’t want to be “that country townie who thinks that he’s a city boy.” Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share of those dudes and chicks, and they are wackfuls of cringeworthy.
I want to make New York my city. I want everything that it has to offer. But I don’t want to be like the tourist who only wants New York for its surface value, just so I can take home a few HDR iPhone pics at the end of the day. No, God dammit. I want it all.
I don’t know how many more times I have to say it, but here I go again:
NEW YORK CITY, I FUCKIN’ LOVE YOU.
gov:
The House just passed my bipartisan Obamacare repeal bill.
(Oh, and welcome to my new Tumblr!)
Important milestone alert: the very first spat between members of Congress on Tumblr.
(“Apparently, Takano is also the sponsor of H.R. 745213, a Bill to Resolve All House Disputes in the Tumblr Forum.” - h/t markcoatney.com)
Ladies and gentlemen, the beginning of the future of fucking American politics. This is distressing. I need a drink.