The moon is the closest it's ever been to the earth in like 20 years tonight. We went out downtown and I wanted you guys to know how sensitive and artistic I am so I took a shot of it reflecting off the Hancock building. "That looks like it should be in a Spider-Man movie," Michelle said, which is cute, because girls don't really know what Spider-Man does for a living. Here's a bunch more photos of stuff I've done this month. "People like it when you have personal photos on a blog," Michelle also said, which is something I think she learned at journalism school at NYU, so I think I should trust her and play this one out. Is this an ironic post? I honestly don't know anymore, dude.
That's my people at Dunkies right there, son. Making my larged ice, one milk, one sugar. You can't tell this, but everyone just outside of the frame is really old and poor and depressing. LOL.
Like twenty more boring ass photos of my stupid life after the thing.
I talk about Bodega Girls a lot, but that's only because I want you guys to think I know hip people. I took all these photos because I want you guys to know how bad of a photographer I am. Here's a show they played a couple weeks ago at Middlesex, before they broke SXSW, as TB4L Michael Marotta sorts out here for the Boston Phoenix, live from Texas. Check out my man who needs to use the payphone for a minute. Chill.
I went to see the Celtics game with my old timey boy Jackson, who is only the fucking bartender of the year. That's a thing, right? I don't know.
I just asked Michelle, who is totally zonking on the couch right now, "What was that thing you were doing, with the thing over your face?" "No joke. Just a thing. zzzz." [thirty silent seconds pass] "Vampires." So there you go.
Tried a few cocktails at Craigie on Main. Then I wrote about one of them. One of the best cocktail bars in Boston. Good, like, pig's noses and shit on the menu too, if you're into that sort of thing.
This entire scenario right here. PTSOTL.
Here is a still life I took, it's called Russian Lit, flip cams, tequila, moisturizer, 3rd graders homework and scratch tickets.
I saw Eisley the other week /noemo. I cried a little bit. Just kidding. OK, half kidding. Afterward I went over to say hi to what's her name , which I never, ever do to bands. "Hi, we talked the other day, etc..." You would have thought I was carrying an old timey hobo sack labeled "roofiez" over my shoulder. Anyway, the point is, Eisley should have better security at their shows.
I went to some boner whiskey tasting event at the Liberty Hotel, which is funny, because it used to be a jail. Liberty. This place is a total scene, loaded with silver foxes on the make for 27 year old office girls in vagina flashing skirts. Check it out.
Woops, I had so many whiskeys I made out with my old boss. Chicks love that shit you guys.
Total alley outside Lolita Cocina, which sounds like a place you wouldn't want to show up on your credit card statement in case the wife checks it, but it's actually just a tequila bar.
"I should go sit on that thing." "OK."
This one is a meta commentary on people taking photos of themselves in mirrors. Also there was someone in the shitter and I had to wait for him to get out for like 12 minutes so what the fuck else was I going to do?
Ironic trivia ended up being sincere fun. Who knew?
Motherfucking Robyn in the background. Don't fucking tell me what to do. Do.
What's up with guys who takes photos of girl bands all the time? Dum Dum Girls doing they thing.
A lot fewer people taking pictures of Big Digits on this other night, but then again, a lot more dancing, so call it even.
brought to you by
No comments:
Post a Comment