A Tale of One City
Street Note

Hip-yet-professional as a medical technician, while just about fitting into the quirky Chelsea art scene, today’s striking outfit comes from a doctor’s office: Black button-down, black patent vest, black trousers, “natural brown” clogs, matching “natural brown” belt. All pulled together by his statement piece: silk yellow tie shot with black diagonal stripes.

Street Note

Dear Swerving-Cyclist-with-a-Lighted-Cigarette-in-Mouth, 

There’s no human way you can match the internal combustion engine zooming past you, either in speed or in environmental emissions. So perhaps give up and discard that cigarette, or there’ll just be fewer of us at the NYC Cyclists’ Cause.
 
Street Note
Q. Where can a computer scientist effortlessly masquerade as a computer-newbie that hasn’t heard of Google?

A. Bloomingdales. The flagship store, NYC. For repeatability, try the Laura Mercier make up counter on a Friday evening. Results not guaranteed if conversation with saleswomen exceeds quarter of an hour. 
Service entrances in SoHo. Haute couture for the back door, trying to catch up with haute couture on the street. Clearly they have ways to go, pink-and-grey is far too passe

Service entrances in SoHo. Haute couture for the back door, trying to catch up with haute couture on the street. Clearly they have ways to go, pink-and-grey is far too passe

@ Rubin Art Museum.
Dolls from home a million miles away, just behind a glass door. 

Rubin Art Museum.

Dolls from home a million miles away, just behind a glass door. 

Street Note
Why, in a city of 8 million people, does W-NYC need an “expert” — no less than 350 miles away — to declare on local radio, that air-conditioning use will spike on the hottest day in 4 years?
Such is the value of the title “Professor”. 
untitled on Flickr.Sometimes, all you need to do is point-and-shoot

untitled on Flickr.

Sometimes, all you need to do is point-and-shoot

Street Note
What does it feel like to hear a song you’ve composed being performed by a group in your subway car? I’ll never know, I’ll never be that creatively successful. But ask the woman next to me in on the uptown N one evening. I gasped when she handed over a $5 bill to a performing troupe; she turned to me, “I wrote that song.” 
Infinite dance of “coffee”
Williamsburg bridge graffiti on a bright winter afternoon