I don’t want to be one of those people who talks incessantly about the good old days of NYC: before Giuliani cleaned up 42nd Street, when the definition of “hipster” made reference to the jazz era, and you probably took your passport on a visit to Brooklyn. Just in case. BUT, I was going through my photos the other day and came across these two portraits of Pablo the Rooster. He lived on the Lower East Side close to Canal Street. He had free reign of the alley that ran between two buildings. I know, from a reliable source (and to my great relief!), that he wasn’t part of a Cockfighting ring. Better yet, he had plenty of hen friends who shared his 100 square feet of pavement. They even had a nice little grassy spot where, on any given day, they could be found digging for bugs. So, while I know there are lots of good things to be said for urban development, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be woken up every morning by his crazy loud crowing, I still miss the good old days when you could be walking along in Manhattan and come across a rooster just running free on Ludlow Street.

About 15 years ago I remember being on the subway and seeing something that shocked me: a woman got into the car at 57th Street and, affixed to each of her 10 fingernails, were highly sculpted, three-dimensional unicorns. All different. All really pronounced. At the time I just stared. What I didn’t know is that the image would continue to haunt me this long after. I wondered at the time whether this was some crazy new trend in nail art. Why yes, yes it was. Here is but the teensiest smattering of nail art paraphernalia. The first image is fascinating. Photos are from here, here, here and here.

Lendy’s Electric, on Grand Street in Manhattan, is one of those holdouts from an earlier time when small scale manufacturers and their accompanying tradesmen (tradeswomen?) dominated the downtown landscape. I always enjoy my visits there: so many unfamiliar things to look at, and I always learn something new. Even if that means appropriating some strange slang for a particular electric receptacle or seeing these schematics for plugs and whatnot. These Select-A-Spring photos are from a visit a couple of years ago.

Some flash cards purchased when we were living in Chinatown. At some point in our tenure I tried (and failed) to learn to read Chinese characters. I did figure out how to say hello, thank you, and several variations of happy new year. I also added to my vocabulary the words for a smattering of fruits, vegetables and dumplings. And, if you ask me how to order a beer, I have your back.

Wow, I stopped dead in my tracks when I rounded the corner at 2nd Avenue and 72nd Street. Construction on the 2nd Avenue Subway is going full bore, and these ducts overwhelm anything and everything else around. They are huge and imposing and just a wee bit scary. The “blasting” sign showing a stick of exploding dynamite helped with the fright factor. I am fascinated by pipes and ducts and wires and any visible indication of our underlying infrastructure. Note to self: bring real camera because the iPhone can only do so much.