Mostly on the road yesterday between meetings, snapping a few loft photos for j.o.b. and errand running.

I’m trying to constantly drink water throughout the day so I find myself asking to use the restroom at unexpected stops…. Like my preferred mom & pop print vendor in mid-town.

The shop is in a tiny storefront – and judging from the wood paneling hasn’t been remodeled since the proprietor started the company back sometime I believe in the late 60’s.

I asked the receptionist if I could use the facilities… The tiny octogenarian mother of the owner pointed a bone toward the back, gave me a flirty smile and winked at me between the bangs of her wig.

I swam through the fumes of the dark dirty workshop… The only lighting seemed to be the pools of light surrounding a couple of T-head presses and the light coming from a cracked door in the back.

I made it to the lit door which opened to the water-closet, lit naturally by an overhead window which hadn’t probably been cleaned since the receptionist could bat-eyelashes through her own hair.

The bathroom could have easily doubled as set for rough-trade porno or turkish prision movie.

I reminded myself how lucky boys are that we get to stand up to go.

Then I remembered I had a camera in my pocket.

Then I remembered Glass’ groovy photo icons and thought I need one to tag the phone-camera pics… (ripping you off darling – sorry – your solutions are just always the most graceful).

Then I remembered I don’t blog – so who cares.