Seeing your reflection in the faces of friends

When I read The New Yorker I feel like I'm claiming my place amongst society's upper crust. 

Scott Zuniga, Emilie Zuniga, Brenda Barrett. I love all of these people.

Snow falling on Sherman. The view from our old place.

This is from a photo taken aboard the Staten Island Ferry when Smitty was in town.

Intervention Volume II: Jonathan "Buddy" Martin

HAS THE MAN GONE SOFT? 

THE OFFENDER: Jonathan Martin

THE CRIME: Mushing up a previously hard-edged weblog

THE VERDICT: GUILTY 

Buddy?! 

(Shaking Head)

Buddy. Come on.

We know you want to pay homage to the amazing photographer that is myself, but doing it publicly just sissifies you. Buddy, ye who was the once the source of everything hard-hitting and risque (see: Seriously?, January 24, 2009), ye who was once a no-holds-barred filmmaker (see: Lemko Lemko, Bird Attack, etc.)... Now what films are you polluting with your sickening brand of neo-romance? A Meg Ryan biopic?

I tried to contact Jonathan regarding his newfound creamy center, but official representatives at the Martin compound had only this to say: "No Comment, Grungebag."

Buddy.

Come back to the dark side. No more footsie matches under the kitchen table of life. Embrace your true self. Return to seediness.