will you still love me when I am no longer young and beautiful…

I was watching baz lurman's great gatsby tonight and aside from the fact that Lana del ray sings the most depressing song of 2013, I thought the film was quite good. 

the bastard is always fascinated by how others portray New York in other mediums. 

and baz lurman's New York is the beautiful shining city I envision myself in every goddam day. except I see it in queens. 

in gatsby it is portrayed as the wasteland that is oculist. dirt roads and almost a dustbowl like feel and I wonder if queens has always been seen this way in popular mediums  even though I know that oculist is merely and allegory for depression era middle America. 

I remember I always  wanted to smack the producers of ugly Betty for portraying queens as a series of elevated trains and Hispanic stereotypes and drag queen pristitutes but I soldiered through that shit show as well. 

but I choose to see this westernmost stop of he east to be prettier than what lies west in the face of times to come. 

yeah jerks, my spot is better than your spot now more than ever. 

I can't see the Empire State building anymore and that's okay because I'll always have queens. 

yeah… queens… everytime

—the bastard

…on ringside seats

southham was taking the piss out of me today…

'how was your evening?'

'gross I haven't been dry since I left this place last night and I'm just feeling comfortable in my own skin again'

'awwwww mate… the weather is here'

'my AC cooling tower is broke so its just hot in my place'

'ahhh… you americans and your heat'

he wasn't wrong but it doesn't make me any dryer than I'm feeling right now. 

truth is, I haven't felt dry since I left the office and I have no prospects of feeling as much until I'm back in the box. 

but for what it's worth, the heat in my apartment has driven me outside and here I sit…

watching the sun go down…

beer in hand…

thinking that if the world ended tomorrow, this is where I'd prefer to sit for it. 

I'm gonna lose this view…

so I'll make the most of it…

and I'll dry off tomorrow back in the shit. 

—the bastard

…on offworlders

recently…

my mayor passed away…

and when respected dignitaries shake off this mortal coil…

they find the best quotes from said dignitaries' life.

case meet point…

when asked about living n New York City once, Ed Koch said that everyday he woke up he'd get out of bed and look around and proceed to thank god he was still in New York.

the bastard does this too.

there is some civic pride attached to being a lifelong resident of this Gotham.

flash forward:

this morning's commute was 10 different shades of awful.

I had never been in a position that there were so many people on a platform that I couldn't leave it.

hundreds of angry travelers…

and I kneed one of them full on in the chest because they were swinging at people and I'm just not the one

but when the 6 train full of fail finally turned up…

we spilled into the car and folks just kept on coming

and some awful offworlder…

in trendy aviators and with the smugness of a transplant with a trust fund blurts out.

"new York city is a shithole on so many levels"

and I think to myself in response, "leave then"

leave oklasota…

go back to whatever Midwestern backwater that spawned you and your fucking horse toothed mug and go there to stay…

leave my city if it sucks so badly for you…

I'm sure shit was SO much better for you in whatever New York junior crap stand shit you out onto the road and into my streets.

go home…

go back there. we're so sorry that a day long police investigation fucked up the 6 train and is messing with your fake tan…

go back to wherever it is you came from…

and filth up my home no longer…

and we can just add 'jerk' for good measure because I likes the word jerk.

—the bastard

fell...

let the bastard take you to the place where scott fell.

my mother thought it would be a good idea to go there last week.

take the whole family

it'll be "fun"

and there we were at the place where scott fell over 10 years ago.

over 100 stories he fell on a cool sunny day into a pile of rubble where two pools sit now for each tower that is no longer there.

overlooked by the shadow of the future of this area.

just recently, it was deemed taller than the empire state building again.

i almost didn't want to find scott.

but i also needed to.

you see, there's this film i saw once called a foreign field and it was about a bunch of veterans returning to normandy for the 50th anniversary of d-day and most were the veterans and their annoying suburban families and this lone woman played by laurean bacall.

everyone likes her.

she's insightful. she's mysterious. her brother served in the war and she wanted to pay homage.

only in the end, she went to a small cemetary set aside for the deceased german soldiers and a gut punch was had by all.

because the german died that day too.

but i digress.

i wandered around the sight.

sort of disgusted by the tourists, and the harajuku girls taking kawaii photos of themselves in front of the pools that were there for you to reflect on the dead.

i looked for some jackass wearing a "i went to ground zero and all i got was this lousy t-shirt"

as i always suspected, erecting a memorial would dilute the meaning of the events. perhaps the big smoking hole would have served as a better reminder to these people.

but no. it has to be pretty.

washed away.

clean.

i wondered chatting with the boy, and my wife, and my mom, and my daughter.

...and then i got punched in the gut.

you see, it wasn't really that hard to find. even when you think you aren't looking for something. 

and there he was. 

where the north tower used to be. 

scott has a nice spot.

in the shade.

under a tree. 

under a tower.

where scott fell.

and we all wept.

and a good time was had by all.

—the bastard

...on grousing

the bastard has a bone to pick with new york media...

you see, he spends alot of time with gothamist...

it's sort of replaced ny1 for him as he isn't shelling out anytime soon for time warner cable

and recently there was a piece on whether or not people from the outer boroughs refer to manhattan as "the city" which found that 88 percent surveyed said that they in fact do.

the bastard does not.

the piece sighted that some "refuse to submit to the soft bigotry of Manhattan exceptionalism, and have never hesitated to correct anyone who insults New York City's other four boroughs by mislabeling that arrogant little overpriced island across from New Jersey as 'the city.' "

i don't think that hard on it as i refer to manhattan as "manhattan" because this city has 5 boroughs. plain. simple. my wife feels otherwise, raised in staten island, the forgotten borough which seems to have more of an inferiority complex than queens and jersey combined since pretty much anyone i know from ess aye refers to manhattan as the city.

so i don't try to change hearts and minds on the matter but it never stops me from correcting folks in conversation. and i let it go.

until of course the occasional "these are the best places to get food, drink, coffee" piece comes up.

yesterday, gothamist ran a piece on the 6 best places to get weak assed iced coffee beverages in new york and it seems by and large that there are only two boroughs in this city for these sort of pieces manhattan and brooklyn.

the dumb thing is...

i don't even look at iced coffee as my go to beverage in the heat. i just suck it up and drink coffee.

however, when it's crotch pot cooking hot out, i go to sweetleaf for my iced coffee. their rocket fuel has all of the gothamist mentioned places beat hands down.

this reminded me of a quote that former mayor ed koch had said about how brooklyn and queens is a series of cemeteries new yorkers drive through on their way to the hamptons.

that said, the bastard decided to make some changes to our cities map to reflect my disdain for this.

so as a citizen of westernmost part of the borough of "here be monsters" i enjoy my view of this cities two sole boroughs.

enjoy

—the bastard

turnstile

the bastard has a sliding scale of moral relevance when it comes to theft…

if you're gonna steal a car…

steal a fly ride but don't break my windows to steal the linzer tarts off of the console.

if your gonna shoplift…

you best work for the store you're stealing from because fuck the man.

if your gonna steal candy…

best not to steal from a baby because that shit will wreck my review of you on yelp.

and of you're gonna jump the turnstile…

show some balls and jump the goddam turnstile.

don't be like that middle aged lady waiting on the side with a Louis Vuitton bag or knockoff of said brand…

waiting for someone to hit the emergency exit.

I see you.

we all see you you frikkin grifter.

you don't look like you're eating catfood.

you have a Louis Vuitton bag or knockoff of said brand…

buy a damn metro card like the rest a us rubes.

cheapskate.

—the bastard

caged…

don't get the bastard wrong.

he likes his vacation and all.

but he goes home tomorrow and he can't wait to get back to his perch on the east river.

so he can drink whiskey.

and dream of magazines he could make.

lots to do.

fresh hell to have.

I'll take two helpings you dirty fucks.

thanks for playing.

—the bastard

jet lag…

… makes it hahd to type

been back a few days and it's taken me some time to get it together.

staying up til 3 in Vegas doesn't do right by an east coaster.

so I've been run down.

trying to get back I the groove with the dead animal books.

yeah, the bastard works for all ah they now.

I will say this though.

consolidation has done wonders for my office creativity.

now if I should only sleep like a normal person.

oh well.

go to hell.

—the bastard

…the bridge

the bastard lives very close to the planet of Brooklyn.

so close, that corrupt eurotrash vacation rental websites call this place hunters point, Brooklyn.

those poor goddam Norwegians will never know that the soil they renting for the weekend is from that of the thourough borough.

its so close that there's a goddam bridge I can take to go to Brooklyn.

so I did.

in fact it's so close, they should call it greenpoint, queens.

except real estate developers wouldn't be able to get the good price for new apartments.

and hipsters would have to compete with strollers as well.

you see.

we has some children up in this piece.

anyway.

I went across the bridge to see the greenpoint.

had a good sammich served to me by a woman wearing very unfortunate pants.

and I saw a homeless man stripping the insulation off of copper wires.

then I went home and took a nap.

what?!?

we're you expecting the frikkin odyssey?

ok

it was actually a cyclops stripping the wire.

now go die

—the bastard

…leveling out

so it's been twice that the bastard has been out for a pint with the new crew.

which tells a bastard that he has become considerably less annoying than he thought

getting old blinds one to this otherwise obvious observation. almost as much as being young blinds one to this observation.

so I count it as a win of sorts.

so, we went to the knife for a pint and mystery science was there with some co's and was expecting more.

and the way he introduced me to his crew was someone I've known for a long long time.

which was kind of flattering in a way as his old friends from small times seem to go way way back and I've only know. the bloke for 5 years really up close but he counts me as an old friend anyway.

this is nice to know.

you see, the bastard has had a crisis of faith since some folks have left the fold. it's nice to have folks to chat to.

—the bastard

…on Baden Powell

"you left your soda water"

"i know", the bastard retorts with two full hands with four bags of groceries. "sometimes I wish I had three hands".

and then I amble across the street with the weeks repast in my sore arms.

I turn and the man's friend is carrying my seltzer across the street, "I figure that I'll be your third hand today"

"bless you man", I replied.

now the bastard doesn't speak in such evangelical platitudes but sometimes it's better than just saying thank you.

but hey guy, thanks for the good turn. the man who's words I try to live by sometimes lives on in you.

do a good turn daily jerk

be prepared jerk

don't be a jerk. jerk

baden powell never said jerk but I do. because most people are jerks. just not the guy who just helped me out.

—the bastard

…in which my big mouth gets me into trouble

the bastard was in the paper recently.

no it wasn't for that string of liquor stores I robbed (whoops)

some guy from the daily news rolled up on me and wanted to ask me about my new hood.

so I took my hand off the knife and decided to answer his questions.

in said interview I complained about something that needed to be done with my shower that the owners wouldn't fix because it's too much work. but after my shower started leaking into the apartment below me. then they fixed it.

this is what dan in the daily news.

that was a month ago.

two weeks ago (3 this Friday) the story ran and they had ripped out my shower again because they missed the leak.

and the repair job is going much slower this time.

it's starting to piss me off. not that my big mouth hit the newsstand on the eve of this work in my place. no. it's because I haven't had the use of one of my bathrooms in fucking 3 weeks. damn thin skinned fuckers.

serves me right to be talking to reporters. well maybe I'm a little remorseful but, not as much as I could be.

there's always losing my shot and running around the owners office with a machete. that is IF the bastard had a machete.

—the bastard

meat of the matter

it's a good thing I brought my work laptop home with me.

because the bastard has NO idea when the 7 train will be up and running again.

—the bastard

the bastard ain't a man to put the cart before the horse…

… but I think the media is having us on








last night. the bastard sat in his living room with three fingers of rye on ice waiting for the world to end.

the news: there's a hurricane on yo!

the bastard: oh SNAP. rilly?!?

the news: yeah shiteyes. there's gonna be rain and shit and the east river is gonna run roughshod on your ass. and there's gonna be 100 mile an hour winds

the bastard: oh wow guy. I best shit my pants now

so there you have it. when I went to bed, there were saying 75 mph winds.

when the bastard woke up, the national weather service said 45 mph winds but the news is showing footage of the same block in Howard beach that flood when there's is any strong rain and saying 80 mph winds.

I'm seeing a discrepancy here.

stupid sensationalism. stop scaring the shit outta people.

—the bastard

…on spare time

normally the bastard doesn't have time to post about the commute.

it's usually 10 minutes

but

today there are mad delays

no express service. only local

I'd settle for a goddam train at the point regardless of it's orientation.

and every local is crowded.

oh well. go to hell

—the bastard

the new way

it's been awful rough of late.

just the planning aspects here go a little pear shaped more often and the bastard finds himself doubling his efforts.

and when he is at the beck and call of others domestically speaking, he brings work home with him.

which has been a great time saver this time around.

but yesterday afternoon

after running pretty hard on all 8 for weeks

I finished what I was doing.

and it made me extremely uncomfortable.

and after what can be only described as me trying to crawl out of my own skin for five minutes, I walked over to a coworker to ask her if there was anything I could pick up.

after which the storm began anew and I became comfortable again in a busy world.

and now I'm taking a day off which may very well feel like 24 hours of me trying to climb out of my own skin.

—the bastard

24 hour party people…

…sans the party



since all of the bog changes in the office,

the workload has changed

and the bastard is losing sleep.

I squandered a perfectly good weekend playing catchup on work.

and I'm feeling a little burnt from it.

gotta get ahead of the curve.

at least the book looks good.

—the bastard

…on the simple things

the bastard never looks a gift horse in the mouth

wait.

scratch that.

the bastard ALWAYS looks a gift horse in the mouth.

it's a deep seated issue he needs to work on with his parole officer.

anyway it's like this.

I really like living in the liquid city.

nice view.

nice commute.

better quality of life.

but it ain't cheap.

so after almost two months of paying upwards of 24 bucks a bag every week not to mention the hefty tab for dry cleaning.…

our washing machine finally arrived and you guessed it bitches

I did me some laundry.

now if I could only get a handle on the job, everything would be easy peasy.

but that's tomorrow's problem.

hrm

wait

that's my problem in like 10 minutes now

god dammity damn

—the bastard

the bastard doesn't really mean to sound optimistic…

…but there's just something about sitting out on the balcony with 4 fingers of whiskey with a gentle breeze that makes him think,

"shit doesn't suck so much"

now all I need is respectable recipe for bul gogi tacos and shit would pretty much be complete for me for now.

what'd ya want some piss and vinegar?

ok.

I got lost coming and going from a birthday party in Yonkers.

Yonkers is good and all, but I can no longer trust my gps to do the right thing by me.

I mean seriously why does it make me go past a right turn on 31st so I van make a left on 32nd so Ivan make a left onto 31st?

what the hell is that shit?

oh

wait

bul gogi.

—the bastard

the bastard is givin that stuff out to ALL. those graffiti guys

…or



…things the bastard liked about 5pointz


…and






…THING the bastard DIDN'T like about 5pointz

so on Friday night,

the wife days to me, "bastard, you like teh graffiti, yes?"

"why yes wife… I likes teh graffiti"

so she schemes to me on having us walk up to the graffiti installation known as 5pointz which is STUPID touristy these days but the bastard has accepted this as a known quantity.

that way, I can digest the bullshit well enough.





so I agree and we take the family up there. the boy hasn't seen reasonable tagging since we were at the river wall in at Louis in 2009 and we were much more preoccupied with eating cold Arthur Bryants at the time.

so we headed up.

and while at first blush a family of four with a stroller looked out of place at an abandoned building covered in some fair to excellent work, the bastard has to say that he was a fucking breath of fresh (F-R-E-S-H. fresh fresh fresh fresh fresh) air compared to the pack of wild kuwaii girls and there attempts at myspace style self portraiture in front of the graffiti.

a breath of fresh air compared to the eurotrash who asked my son to get out of the way of "thaa peece" he wanted to photograph.



and a goddam sight better than the black turtleneck crowd who ogled the same stuff they scorned 10 years ago when this stuff was the symbol of urban blight rather than that of urban renewal.

but what took the cake for me was this…

a monster truck pulls up the block

with the monster logo on it and a bunch of chuckleheads swarm upon the place in monster energy drink shirts on.

and a couple walk by and the man says to the woman , "the attention to detail is incredible".

"yeah", she concurs and then I kind of went back in time for a second.

I was at the Greene street gallery with art school and we're looking at a crappy sculpture of an apple core made of plaster and the guy in the black turtleneck leans over to the girl half his age and says in a throaty voice, "it's so dynamic. it's very indicative of the fall of man."

meanwhile back in 2011, the bastard is getting a laugh at how all of these white folk who would have never given this a second thought 10-15 years ago sees this stuff I grew up around as full of attention to detail.

don't get me wrong, it was some dope looking examples of wild stour circa the mid to late 80's and definitely more evolved but I would never quote anything out of artspeak to elevate it to anything more than what it is…

graffiti.

and I wouldn't paint three murals for any of the ass this guy was trying to pull down. unless you like that sort of thing.

oh well, it was still good to look at and I made burgers later on.

—the bastard