The MTA

To summarize my feelngs about the Transit Workers Union and their threatened impending strike, I offer these words:

F-U

Lazy, greedy union SOBs.

A live blogging event

I am sitting in Cafe Pick me up, eating a $5 piece of pecan pie and drining a cafe au lait. Despite the fact that I have been at work all day and just returned a movie on which I had incurred at $30 late fee (inexcusable), I am in a relatively good mood. Why? Well, before eating this $5 peice of pie and drinking this cafe au lait, I sat on my perch in Nino's pizza looking out on the well-traveled corner of Ave. A and St. Marks Place. (No, there is no apostrophe in Marks.) In 30 minutes time, I saw: Carlos D. from Interpol walk by in his typical uniform of black - he looked as if he was worried someone was following him as he glanced backwards; the fashion designer duo Heatherette - they paused to adjust each other's headgear; an old drunk, passed out and then carted away by EMTs from Beth Israel Medical Center.

Me and Super Grover.

The Love Affair Continues

The Glint

Thanks to her well-developed powers of self-deception, Miriam had a incredible sense of personal worth.