A humble quest to discover maturity in the major metropolis.A journey that brings me towards the outrageous and the dangerous, the terrifying and the electrifying, the suffocating and the sublime.
A pace that is as heightened as the skyscrapers with emotions as deep as the subways.
This is where superlative meets super-low-tives.
This is where Broadway meets Bedbugs.
This is where Manhood meets Manhattan.
RIP Gonzo. #sandy #hurricanesandy #nyc #newyorkcity #hurricane #yolo
Bill Cunningham. Governor’s Island Jazz Age Lawn Party. (Taken with Instagram)
Steelworkers. #night #white #awesome #cool #like #fire #iphoneonly #webstagram #bored (Taken with Instagram at Chinatown)
The Concrete Rainforest. #NewYorkCity #Thunderstorms (Taken with Instagram at Flower District)
Fuck. You. Bloomberg.
7 Train: To Grandmother's House We Go.
- Mother of the Stereotypical Nuclear Family: (to her 3 children) We are all gonna go with Grandma, and have fun. You like her big house, remember? We can go swimming in her pool. Won't that be fun?
- Homeless man: I WANNA COME TOO TO GRANDMA'S! BRING ME!
- ~Awkward silence~
- Grandma: You're drunk.
NYC, your hate offers me such irony.
*A ManhoodManhattan [Collaborative] Original
Almost every New Yorker has heard a volunteer on their train making an announcement for the Homeless Assistance organization which apparently offers food, shelter, showers, and more to those in need in all 5 boros.
— However, this was far too much to behold for one homeless woman…
[Hence, this audio clip ensues.]
You have to be kidding me. Get it together New York.
Sitting in Central Park on my lunch break watching the sunlight glisten not only off the pond, but also off the half naked bodies laying on the fresh grass - patiently awaiting their skin cancer.
O. This shirtless dude next to me looks familiar.
…wait.
THAT IS ONE OF MY MANAGERS!
Sitting in Central Park on my lunch break, watching the sunlight glisten not only off the pond but also off the half naked bodies laying on the fresh grass, waiting for their skin cancer.
Running in Central Park, screaming, watching the sunlight glisten off the blood pouring from my eyes, waiting for the wind to speed up my body’s clotting process.
- Nevermind, jumping off the highest chunk of bedrock…
Cruel, Cruel, world.
“I wanted to stand in vigil as a Muslim who just last summer reminded Americans – insisting that Park 51 move “out of sensitivity for 9/11 victims” – that Muslims were also its victims.…
So it was a shock to find hundreds of others had turned that hallowed ground into the scene of a home crowd celebrating an away victory they hadn’t attended, the roots of which they were probably not there to experience or were too young to remember.”
