He’s luckier than a dog with two dicks.
Bill Clinton on Barack Obama (source)
As if there were any other kind…
Banksy on Houston and Elizabeth… for now. #banksyny #betteroutthanin
Pretty sure this bike is trying to get my bike pregnant.
That night Profane shaved, bathed, donned suede jacket, levis and big cowboy hat and went a-roving down Kingsway, looking for amusement. He found it in the form of Brenda Wigglesworth, an American WASP who attended Beaver College and owned, she said, 72 pairs of Bermuda shorts, half of which she had brought over to Europe back around June at the beginning of a Grand Tour which had then held high promise. High she remained all the way across the Atlantic; high as the boat deck and mostly on sloe gin fizzes. The various lifeboats of this most underelict passage east were shared by a purser (summer job) from the academic flatlands of Jersey who gave her an orange and black toy tiger, a pregnancy scare (hers only) and a promise to meet her in Amsterdam, somewhere behind the Five Flies. He’d not come: she came to herself - or at least to the inviolable Puritan she’d show up as come marriage and the Good Life, someday soon now - in a bar’s parking lot near a canal, filled with a hundred black bicycles: her junkyard, her own locust season. Skeletons, carapaces, no matter: her inside too was her outside and on she went, streak-blond, far-from-frail Brenda, along the Rhine, up and down the soft slopes of the wine districts, into the Tyrol and out into Tuscany, all in a rented Morris whose fuel pump clicked random and loud in times of stress; as did her camera; as did her heart.
Remsen Street, #brooklynheights
We’re going to live forever, you guys.