3/11/2013, Account #23
I’ve been reading Hunter S. Thompson’s Hell’s Angels book. Apparently back in the day newcomers to the motorcycle gang were subjected to a rather grotesque initiation. The first step involved current members using a communal bucket as a toilet. Next, after enough slop was accumulated, they poured the concoction on the newcomer who was decked out in his rebel rags. And finally, the newcomer, like those that came before him, was not allowed to wash his uniform ever again.
Got an email from my squeeze. It contained 3 words: Desmond Bryant‘s mugshot.
Recently watched and enjoyed a documentary called Winnebago Man. It’s about a former Winnebago salesman who became a YouTube sensation after an outtakes video of his outbursts from a commercial film shoot went viral.
Worked my way through Soho-ish Land (Part II) After I gave up on figuring out why the curator at The Earth Room was such an asshole, I walked back east to Kiosk. The best way to describe the ascent to the second floor knick-knack shop is a path paved with fright. The graffitied stairway exudes the feel of a well-lit crackhouse. Take a look for yourself.
Feeling pangs of hunger, I next crawled over to the White Horse Tavern. It used to be a real hotspot for the writers of the Beat Generation as well as Robert Allen Zimmerman. The burger? Ok. The Anchor Steam? Just right.
Post lunch I swung over to Greenwich Locksmiths at 56 7th Avenue. Two things: it’s the smallest numbered building in NYC at 125 square feet and secondly, the entire facade of the storefront is adorned with nothing but keys in the pattern of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I’d call it a janitor’s dream.
Short, and sweet: