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Movie by Normal Bob

The other day I was with a friend of mine and we were going though folders in my Amazing Stranger files and I remembered the beauty, love and warmth of the summer sun. I remembered what it felt like to have spring time at Union Square with the adventures and adventurers to be discovered there.


Movie by Normal Bob

Only Union Square in the Spring can offer up such unique outdoor entertainment in a cozy, junkie-ridden landscape.


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He's the coin tossing king of the world! And he's found only at Union Square in the summer sun.



Movie by Normal Bob

Remember the summer sun and how we used to dance and swing in its loving glow? And remember the dancing dweeb with his complete lack of dignity as he displayed his belief in the iPod ads he'd seen on the television?


Movie by Normal Bob

And remember when the dancing dweeb actually encountered another of his kind, and they danced out their greetings to one another, then knocked shoulders confirming their oneness and that it is good?


I remember. And it was good.


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And in between those moments there were the less obvious instances.


Moments that don't require any obnoxious commentary from my sorry ass. Just the music and the people are enough to make my heart bleed for Union Square sunshine.


*Sigh*

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I haven't forgotten about the sweet subway song singers! They who transform the creepy, dank, underground subway terminals into creepy, dank, underground sanctuaries of looming imminent doom.


That too is missed by me.



Photo by Normal Bob

Seriously, I miss the summer sun over Union Square so much that even those newbie college students who come into the city and go "totally crazy" in their wacky wigs from the venders up and down Saint Marks.


No kiddin'! I miss their alt- for- a- day, let's- do -something- that'd- get- us- ostracized- back- home- but- half- as- much- because- we- don't- wanna- be- mistaken- for- punk- gang- members nativity. It's cute!


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I even miss...


...okay, you got me. I don't miss the guy with the woods tattoo. He could go die in pissy back alley dumpster and I would not be able to force a tear, even for the sake of humanity. I mean, a freakin' tattoo of woods?


"Hi, Mr. Tattoo artist!"
"Hello Mr. Customer. What tattoo can I do for you today?"
"Woods!"
"Woods?"
"Yes! I'd like woods, right here on my arm. Woods, with a path."
"Woods?"
"Yes, woods."

End of discussion.


Photo by Normal Bob

And yes, you too Mr. Junkie! You too are part of my Union Square summer sunshine day dream! You and your David Lee Roth antics under a rusty spoon influence and the warm breeze of body odor.
I even ache for you.


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It's hard to bear when just last week we were teased by that 55 degree day, and fathers brought out their babies and gave them plastic bags to play with, then lost themselves in the glow of their Blackberry, under the Union Square summer sun. Even if just for a day.


Photo by Normal Bob

Damn you, summer sun! You showed yourself for ONE fucking day, and with it you brought the crazy cat lady out of her den, for just one day!


Oh summer sun, come back this instant!!!!

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Insults written strangely are describing strangers I have to see every single day and I don't want them to be sure what it means either.
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