Bitches, Bridges, and Bedrooms

Helen Levitt died at the age of 95, in her Manhattan apartment.

I remember how inspired and effected I was by this photo, as a little Little.

It was so timeless and reminded me of everything that I loved about New Yorkers and adolescence. It wasn't until much later, that I discovered the image was from 1939.

Her photos always gave me the sense of memorability, at first glance. Followed by effectiveness upon looking just a little bit further

100 years ago, today, the Queensborough Bridge was completed. Only killing 50 people, in the process!

The Queensborough Bridge is so commonly overlooked. I blame the Brooklyn Bridge, for this.

With 4 top lanes, and 5 bottom lanes, it really does an amazing job at commuting traffic into Midtown. Even in the worst of traffic, I don't think I've ever been on there for over 25 minutes.

The Bowery Boys did a pretty interesting little blog about the bridge today. Enjoy the fuck out of it!

At this turning point of my life, I am reminded of the memories of this bridge in my life, as stupid as it may sound. Its just a fucking bridge.

• Phone calls made in fits of horror, as I tried to rush back into manhattan after 'running away' just didn't work out.
• Throwing mix CDs of love, over its edge.
• Taking boat trips so that I would be able to just take photos of its underbelly.
• Having first listens of music made by friends, on my way out of the city.
• Looking into open apartment windows of converted storage areas and visually upsetting glass buildings, to see how rich people decorate and arrange their lighting.
• Wishing I could shop at the Bridge Market regularly.
• Smoking cigarettes at the park that went along the East River, staring at the bridge traffic and thinking about the ten most important items in my life.
• And freaking out every single time TO THIS DAY, about driving up the onramp into the city.

Finishing up my true New Yorker post, I feel pretty inspired by tiny pods!

I wish i owned a little area and a big fucking drill.