Coming to a closet near you.

Looking uptown with my head in the stars

My third week back in New York City. It feels like home so quickly here.

I could kiss your face all day.

The city keeps on going...on.
Float down the river with Matty D & Jay
Get off the boat and board a plan to JKF and I, ain't slept a week
But it don't seem to matter to the subway squeakers, squeaking at my feet
The city keeps on going
We just keep on rolling
The city keeps on going
We just keep on rolling...on.
Grand Central Station got a windy coming down
Independence yesterday, ain't no one around
I still recognize her after all these years and she still looks the same
Ah, she still looks the same.
When we left Brooklyn it was raining so hard
Come up on 8th and the rain it cleared off
We're just people watching on 3rd and St. Mark's
Wendy girl just kissing my face, my face
She was just kissing my face
Just when I was sick and down
There was a shaking on the ground
We were hiding from the rain, we were riding on the train
Just when I was sinking down
There was a shaking on the ground
We were hiding from the rain, we were riding on the train
She was dancing on the midway
Just kissing my face
She was dancing on the midway
Just waving goodbye.

The only one for me are the mad ones

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The trouble-makers. The round heads in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” - Jack Kerouac



Photo by Allen Ginsberg: " Jack Kerouac wandering along East 7th Street after visiting Burroughs at our pad, passing statue of Congressman Samuel “Sunset” Cox, “The Letter-Carrier’s Friend” in Tompkins Square toward corner of Avenue A, Lower East Side; he’s making a Dostoyevsky mad-face or Russian basso be-bop Om, first walking around the neighborhood, then involved with The Subterraneans, pencils & notebook in wool shirt-pockets, Fall 1953, Manhattan.”

New York I love you, but you're bringin me down

"I don’t know what it means to be a New Yorker anymore. I guess if you work for a giant corporation and you’ve lived here for more than six weeks, you’re a New Yorker now. I think I used to know what it meant to be a New Yorker. I guess if you don’t eat at Cosi sandwich shop you’re a real New Yorker. If you don’t go to Hopstop.com to find your way around the city, you’re a real New Yorker. If you make too much noise on the sidewalk at night and bother people living in overpriced apartments, you’re a real New Yorker. If you get mugged, and then immediately go eat a slice with the money hidden in your sock that they did not steal from you, you’re a real New Yorker. If you cross the street wherever and whenever you want, you’re a New Yorker. And if you walk fast, you’re a New Yorker. Nobody walks fast in this city anymore. Everyone walks slow, and then goes to Equinox." -Judah Freidlander, Daily Intel

I'm living in NYC c.1956

My favorite way to enjoy Ginsberg is listening to old cassette recordings in George Tysh's room, on the second floor of The Roeper School, sitting in a circle with students who have read books I will probably never understand, breathing in the familiar scent of head shop incense and sipping authentic Chinese tea. America.

I always pause if I can on Fifth Avenue, look uptown with my head in the stars

"I thought of walking the empty streets alone and about how no matter how sad I or anyone else gets there, New York seems to prop a loner up on his side and up by the bootstraps we go, we loners. Our fair city is here to remind us that we are all alone together."
- Ryan Adams [blackbookmag.com 'Golden Stars on Streets of Piss']