October 2, 2011
The Sound of Silence-Then and Now
Only music can move us in such profound ways. We turn around and 30 years have passed but "a vision that was planted in my brain still remains."
September 20, 2011
September 17, 2011
I'll wait till he leaves. |
I screwed up last night. |
I'm keeping a low profile |
Shh..keep your head down. |
September 16, 2011
Morning
September 15, 2011
Profiles
I need to turn in. |
So what can't you like about me |
SPF 45 not 30 |
Outed |
I have such a headache |
So I'm not perfect |
I tried but I just don't fit in. |
Don't screw me! |
I like being alone |
My life is such a blur. |
Straighten up! |
Heads Up! |
We prefer the shade. |
Turn around. The beach is that way. |
Who's the designated driver? |
We can now marry in New York. |
Clean the sand off before you go in. |
We will never be stepped on again. |
Another Friday night alone. |
Location, Location, Location |
She was gone this morning. |
What's gotten into your head? |
I can't. You're not Jewish. |
I'm in the wrong part of town. |
He just keeled over. |
So where's the view. |
I knew there was someone else! |
I'm so tired I can't keep my head up |
Again with the low self esteem |
September 1, 2011
Screwed on the Boardwalk
ITS TIME TO GET UP
An early morning walk on the Coney Island Boardwalk can be quite exhilirating. The early sunlight glistens on the ocean waves breaking quietly against the shore, the beach a wide and clean carpet of even earth tones. The parachute jump forever in your line of sight the tower rising in the west the colors bright and reflective. You chase your long shadow in vain. The boardwalk is flat with no challenges to keeping a steady pace. A ribbon of weathered wooden planks disappears out of your line of sight. The sun has already warmed the wood underneath your feet and the heated air rises from below. Walkers and runners keep easily to their own path and occasionally an overzealous biker ignores the boardwalk credo of personal space. I prefer walking west where the blues are deeper and the reds bleed until a relentless west wind sweeps the tiny sands of glass against my face.I finally realized that my daily pleasure was due to the strength and integrity of the aged boards underneath my feet that were held in place by a community of little objects called SCREWS. So while most shutterbugs were busy taking photos of the wonderful seascape and colorful Coney Island attractions I dropped down to ground level to discover a buried world that has been mostly ignored and certainly taken for granted.
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