It was a long-ass cold winter in New York this year. Every time it seemed like spring had sprung, the tempratures would drop back down and I’d begrudgingly haul the winter coat back out of the closet. Finally on Saturday, April 18th, we had our first day in the mid seventies. I decided to take my first visit of the year to Central Park, and now through the magic of this Photoblog, you can join me on this magical journey. Ready? Here we go!
We’ll walk down 6th to 14th Street, it’s nice to see jacketless people once again!
And here we are, the 14th street subway station. Watch your step and look out for random vomit.
I’ve been seeing this guy for years down here. He only plays Beatles songs and he’s really good. Today he’s singing, “Help,” and since I took his photo I flipped him a buck. The last of the big spenders, that’s me!
Okay, here we are, down in the bowels of New York’s subway system. That kid looks like a young Travis Bickle in the making. I don’t think we’ll stand next to him.
Here comes a train, but it’s the One train and it’s a local, which means it makes twice as many stops as the express. Fuck it, I’m going to gamble and wait for the express.
Goddamnit, it really stinks like piss down here today. Where the fuck is the express?
Seriously, would you touch this wall with your bare hand? I’m nervous just standing a few feet from it. It looks like a buffet of germs and diseases. Sheesh!
Fuck, I should’ve taken the local. I should never trust my instincts! They’re the one’s that told me writing would pay off one day.
Here’s another One train, all aboard!
At least the car isn’t too crowded so we can sit and watch this guy playing with his scratch off ticket. He lost. I hope he doesn’t start playing with anything else now.
And before you know it, here we are, the Upper West Side of Manhattan.
Oh my fucking God! Only a block into our adventure and disastor has struck. This boarded up, empty building used to be the P & G Tavern. A bar I used to hang out at when I lived up here, years ago. I only lived a couple blocks away and I was in here all the time. It was the first bar I drank in when I moved here. I can’t believe it’s shut down! It was an institution on the Upper West Side. They used it as a backdrop in a lot of movies and TV shows, including Donnie Brasco and Seinfeld. I feel just like John Belushi in Animal House, I can’t believe they took the fucking bar! Fuck. Oh well, fuck it let’s just move on. I’ll try and find a photo of this place from my photo archives when I get home, so you can see it in all it’s glory.
I don’t think this is what Obama had in mind.
Here’s the door man and entrance to the Dakota building where John Lennon got shot and bought the farm. There’s always some kooks taking pictures of this spot.
And here’s the kook du jour. Jeez, he kinda looks like Mark David Chapman! Let’s get out of here!
72nd St. and Central Park West, here we are.
Wow, it looks packed!
They want four bucks for a Cherry Garcia ice cream bar? For that kind of dough, it better be laced with primo acid.
I always enter the park through Strawberry Fields. It’s a safe bet there’s at least one pathetic loser in here, accoustic guitar in hand, destroying a Beatles or John Lennon song.
And today is no exception. The song they’re ripping to shreds is “Things We Said Today.” I call this picture, “Pathetic Squared.”
It amazes me how many people waste their money on flowers to leave here.I think John Lennon would’ve thought the whole thing was a big joke. Every time I look at this, I think of the following lyrics from the Elvis Costello song, “The Other Side of Summer:” “Was it a millionaire, who said imagine no possessions?” I think Lennon would’ve loved that line.
Alright, here we are in the heart of the park! What a day for a daydream. What a day for some sunscreen.
Oh geez, look at this guy. Nothing says, “I surrendered my balls,” quite like the man/baby tote.
This is the fountain area, sadly the fountain is dry and just brings back sad memories of the P & G. Sob!
This is my favorite walkway in the park. I’m starvin’ like old Marvin, here, time for a hot dog break.
Here’s a couple carts. Hey, nice jeans, asshole!
When I ordered a hot dog with mustard, I didn’t even look at the container till now. I think that explains the explosive diahrea about four hours later. Thanks hot dog man!
And here’s the hot dog in all its tainted mustard glory.
As long as this guy is there, print will never die! That Duane Reade bag is filled with newsprint, some of it from this decade even!
Hi Mickey Rourke! Loved you in “The Wrestler!” Good luck with that...uhh...thing you’ve got there!
Looks like I’m not the only one who thought these girls were singing a tad off tune. They’re just lucky that prick Simon from American Idol isn’t around.
It’s so nice people are laying out in the sun. Let’s go take a closer look.
Oh my! I think I’ve had enough people watching for today, time to head home.
And through the magic of the Photoblog, baboom! Here we are, home sweet home. Hmmm...what should I do now?
Well, that should occupy the rest of the afternoon! Cheers!
P.S. Here’s the P & G, back in all its glory. Cheers to the memories of another great fallen New York institution.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009 at 12:11PM 
