summertime in nyc is flawless so far (minus the chinese restaurant garbage rotting in plastic bags for 3 days and smelling like the 47th circle of hell).
this is my roof, where i’m working today. i know, its not very punk rock. more sylvan and bucolic (insofar as sylvan and bucolic can apply to the roof of an old factory) than gritty and punk rock. ah well, even the hardest punk rock kid still probably likes trees and iced tea every now and then.
whoever invented summer in nyc was very smart. much nicer than cold grim sad february, although the chinese restaurant garbage is slightly less offensive when its frozen.
moby
