Yes. A whole lotta everything.

vs.

The difference is not palpable, surprisingly: the sight of people lazing in deck chairs, of throngs passing through each intersection, all still blends with the oversized open-top tour buses and the yellow taxicabs. Everything is in its right place.

GG Allin's last show was at the Space 2B, which is somewhere under the rubble in this photograph. — which survives in this AOL Cityguide listing.

Aram steered me to Derek Erdman, repository of all the cool. Here's a shot of GG Allin's grave site.

(Audio of The Fall playing the Black Monk Theme)

A few months ago I saw Lucia Palacios's and Dietmar Post's bittersweet movie about the brief rise and fall of The Monks: The Transatlantic Feedback. It spun the tale of how the Monks played together while in Germany, and how their lives ravelled upon return to the States. I had first heard their music as noisily covered by The Fall on Extricate, and then on the revelatory american recordings re-issue in the '90s. Although I had heard that the Monks were GIs on a lark, I did not know the depths to which their image as a nihilist, surreal rock'n'roll combo depended on their Continental impressarios.

The building itself has landmark status, but may be demolished due to its decrepit state.

I built up this bicycle in autumn of 2002, and it went through a period of light use until the theft of the belovèd Gold Dutchess in the spring of 2005. Since moving last year, it has been the only bicycle I ride.

More photos of this Kogswell in various configurations; the memory of riding the Kogswell on the last Krispy Kreme Klassic.

The first, from the cafeteria at work; the latter, from the chic restaurant down the fashionable street. Neither matches Roscoe's House of Chicken and W., a luminary institution just down the freeway.