Coney Island
I went to Coney Island with the Death Cab For Cutie song stuck in my head. In other words, I specifically visited at a time when it would be deserted and vacant like an amusement park desert. It was better this way: desolate inside.
Because, on the abandoned Cyclone, I could still hear the wooden tracks crackling with pressure and weight as well as the squeals of children with their hands held high in the air. Those angelic souls experiencing for the first time what it is to feel rather suddenly the large realization that this is all temporary. I could see the lines formed and the bored teenagers talking about pop music and clothes. I could smell the permeation of hot dogs and the heat from so many bodies being near eachother for the first time.
Sometimes, it’s better just to imagine these things.
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These were men working on the cyclone tracks. Presumably, they were thinking about people they loved and how far away they were from the ground. Maybe they were thinking about the people living in the buildings not so distantly behind them. Or just Nathan’s hot dogs…
This is my official tribute to Edward Hopper. For the record, I’m not really that keen on Edward Hopper…but I think he captures a certain American feel.
Yes, I went between the bars in a place and was able to get some pictures before I was promptly chased out. I wonder what they would have said if I had just told them I was one of the acts or something.
These are the tenements overlooking Coney Island and probably one of the only places left in nyc for affordable housing. I’ve heard the view is terrific.
If you look closely, you can see my reflection (I’m wearing a blue coat) and Cinchel’s to the right.
One of the few pictures of me I actually like…Cinchel took this picture for me after having the idea to take a picture of feet by this sign. Even when I’m laughing, I feel like this. This moment is me completely. It is all I ever am.
The cyclone from a distance…ghostly.
Only at Coney Island could you actually have a real live ride entitled Dante’s Inferno. No place else like it on Earth, people, and I say that without ever buying a ticket. The following two pictures are the sides of Dante’s Inferno.
We found a couple of places open. As with the rest of NYC, overstimulation with the visual information.
I’m not sure where Rico was putting his tacos…maybe in a stack of clothes?
We ate fries from here.
Not a very exciting day at the Coney Island stop….
These were actually murals for the MTA Coney Island stop.
