I write what’s pleasurable to write. Which is to say I write posts about life and love and loss, the same ones that are in all the great books and the same ones that are also happening all around you at any given moment. The posts make up plots without novels. I don’t really feel the need to expand upon them—if I can get the idea across in a page or two why bother with 300 more?

Keep it simple and don’t say too much, which is what I say to myself.

I also write on bathroom walls and on stickers that I stick wherever, no where special all around the city.

I have fun in the sense that the work itself is everything as I answer to no one but myself.

The purest art is the most useless. In today’s world nothing typifies this better than blogs. Graffiti is also a good example, especially if it’s illegal and is painted over the very next day.

I’m also partial to the cheap, often handmade clothes that kids wear once or twice before throwing out.

…And tossing dollar bills over the side of the Staten Island Ferry just to take pix of them floating on the river never goes out of style.

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