It's fun zipping around the East Coast, refreshingly jangling, disfunctional, silly, weird, overwhelming, underserving....an unrelenting assault on the senses. The heat brings out the essenses of trash piles, rotting food trash stings the olfactory system. Especially in the hyper-hip Meat Packing District (did the gays come up with that?) of Manhattan. Sitting crook to hook are the chic design doers and the slab o'meat systems. Already trampled by the lookeyloos, yet still no signs of abatement on the construction horizon. Shitty/chic sharing stares. Sleek black fleets idle outside galleries, shops, on streets still cobbled, threatening to hobble the brave colts in vertiginous designer shoes.
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