Mike from Queens

He kinda has a John Travolta, Jimmy Dean thing goin on–it’s the snarl.

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Art School Lover

And now I’m out over $40,000

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“teenage winos”

Heroic

My dream team…Dizzy Dean, Satchel Paige (greatest pitcher of all time) and Lou Gehrig

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thanks, bruce

This photo makes me want to purchase flannel and/or go camping.

hottest guy at the bbq

On the left. His name is Aaron and he skates for zooyork (betty betty betty). This isn’t my picture because I was too scared to photograph him, but I did speak to the golden god. He has a daughter and very straight, white teeth.

Hernon chic

Trying to electrocute yourself with a Mexican torture device and then giving yourself a tattoo because it’s Monday

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Cole Hamels, will you marry me?

beef cake: cheese steak.

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john

I met john at union square 6 years ago

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anything

visit barry at old made vintage off lorimer. shout out

L’merica

Tom Petty/ Creedence should be playing in your head right now

Even ex cons are hot if they bear pups

ok, maybe not, but, PUUPPPPIEEESSSSS

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The Sartorialist is coming all over my blog

Must type with left hand am coming right now JHBBYGTFHKCDGHVBKXDNN?L?BLGUCXGCCGHVGBJ  KNMLKKL:<LHJKL<MNBVBN

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I went to a party…WITH BOYS

he’s stoked bc there are GIRLSSSS

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Does anyone crush on breakers?

There sure are a lot of them

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His name is Walker…but it’s not his real name

((Inside the Actor’s studio))

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Hey Cliff— look at me!

lol

I fell in love with this guy from THE BLACK LIPS !!!!!

I really want to hold your dirty hands… I broke my rib at this show, haha

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Total Denzel

helllllllllllllllloooo

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Jared, Jared, Jared (repeat till the page is full, printer)

Jared and I have an elaborate text message relationship, because he’s a sun king and a poet. The written word is sacred to this man, the air under everyone’s feet. He’s a human swell. There should be magazines written in his honor, clocks and devices tracking when he’s around to ride, haha.

Anyway, the texts are always a different sort of reality; cowboys rarely speak the way they write, delivering succinct messages reliant upon the invisible network in the wind. What has he said? Let me look to the mocking time capsule cell phone for an example, of what must get lost in translation.

Simple things, like “I love you…” or “I love taking you”

Me- “I look like summer”

J- “You think like beauty”

Me- “How do I taste?”

J- “Like a perfect dream”

“Your little hands around me back and forth”

Me- “Wrap around me…your lips on my legs”

J- “Do I feel good inside you?”

Me- “Like a perfect dream”

J- “I want to keep you somehow”

And there are emails…

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“It Will All Drift Into the Sea Eventually” by Luke Byrne

Props where props is due. More of the oz’s work here: www.sprppl.com

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bettying out (cheers to the pioneers edition)

I spent everyday when I was 15 at a  skateshop:

http://vice.typepad.com/vice_magazine/2009/05/new-york-bay-ridge-full-circle.html

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The guys you meet on the block


Summer in Brooklyn, with its pink sky post twilight, the first beer at 4, salt in your hair & sand in your bag, kissing on benches in a dusky haze…

When the night takes over and you go with the wind

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Inspired by Austin

Written by Stef

I spend the night of my birthday drinking champagne on a fire escape in SoHo.  The boy whose escape it is has long blonde hair.  His hair is too long and too blonde.  He is from Iowa where his hair was short and blonde, but he has not cut it since he moved to the city.  I tie my hair up because the moisture in the air has made it overwhelmingly wide.  He lets his fall onto his intriguing shoulders.  He sits so close to me—our backs rest against his window, our legs stretch out along the bars, our bodies fill the space that was between them.

He pours champagne into our glasses until we have finished the bottle.  I tell him sometimes my birthday makes me not sad exactly, but lonely, maybe.  He says that’s what birthdays do.  I hold my glass by its stem, balance it on my knee.  I watch the bubbles—they are as small as pinpricks, wide as a strand of hair, and they rush to the surface insuch straight lines.  I was taught that this is a sign of quality.  I feel the bubbles inside me, tickling my stomach, my tongue, floating out to my fingers, my eyes.  I ask him what it was like, growing up in Iowa.  He tells me of his father, the farmer.  Raised him on the land, huge acres swallowing up his house, cornfields so thick he got lost sometimes.  The earth is solid where he is from; here, everything is suspended, shaky, the gaps in this fire escape larger than the rusting black slats.  He runs his fingers through his hair when he talks, as though he were the girl, I the boy.  As though he were trying to attract me.

All this hair, like all this city, is still so new to him.  He says, more to himself than to me, that one day soon, maybe when his lease is up, he’ll move to Spain and, eventually, own a vineyard.  He’ll craft the perfect, darker-than-blood, full-bodied wine.  He says this as though there is nothing that could ever stop him.  He can keep running; his hair can keep growing; he can move between cities and countries and he can fit into each so perfectly. The sun begins to rise.  It is hidden from us but its rays curl up over the buildings, its light bounces between glass windows, it reaches us and weaves itself into the boy’s hair.  His hair is gold. His hair is corn silk.  His hair glitters with potential.

Don’t forget your glasses!!

the night I met Tom

1/8/06

I spent last night with a stranger. Rich, young (maybe/probably younger than me), piercing blue eyes, leonardo-esque speech, so smart, powerful due to powerful father, probably troubled. He was a Nolan, and a Brian, mostly a Dicaprio.

I went to scenic with Natalia, Belle, Ali, and Natlaia’s cousin Alex. We drank, I sang and danced; it was one of those perfect nights where everyone is up for everything and the cold air makes the skin sting. As soon as we were in, I grabbed Natalia and went downstairs. A guy in a fitted started dancing with me, and his friend started dancing with my friend. I brought the 4 of us together and squeezed the shoulder of the friend, who was so preppy he looked like a school-boy. He left, I got rid of ghetto kid, and we all treked upstairs.

Officially drunk and hot I needed air. I had removed my shirt and was in this black polka dot bra; Talia and I greeted people as they walked in. School boy came over. I fucked with him a bit, just being all waifish and elusive.

The three of us started dancing, and he turned. Natalia got behind him, he grabbed me… and that was it. He said he “wanted me”. He didn’t remember her in the morning.

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Before Leo’s Face Expanded

Leo’s face is like the universe. Let’s remember how it once was in best movie ever, Romeo and Juliet

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Why I think that other guy went to bard…

Because these people did…

It’s a “place to think”, hahaha

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He prob went to Bard

Perk- there’s always conditioner at his

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**Feeling Nostalgic** Featuring James Dean

“When men were men”… at least that’s how I imagine it

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GUYS WITH GUITARS

http://www.myspace.com/richarddukemusic.

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I care about sports (Futbol Edition)

ESPN2HD all day -everyday

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bruce weber can do no wrong

Abercrombie does it over and over again

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Lars ((on the beach in Sydney))

blowfish!!!!!

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Lars ((white button down))

waiting for the train-o

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Bali Surfers

Indo Surf trip

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Ed Zipco!

Founder of Superchief.tv, all around guy

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Matt kinda looks like…

DEAN from GILMORE GIRLS!

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I found San Fran’s Brad

Voila! Rugged Look-a-like:

::: white teeth black leather :::

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DOWN UNDER

In OZ all the guys names end with an -o or an -owzah. This is Cam-o…totally striking… sigh

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GI JOE

His name is Joe and he’s joining the navy. Love a man out of uniform…

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Zander

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dean brady surf vid

Cameron not smoking

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Least Gay Looking from THE Fashionisto

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jared

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Cameron Smoking

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Hot cop from Beyonce’s “If I were a Boy” vid, holy fuck

R1- 6A

R1-21A

R1-22A

R1-24A

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JERZEEYY

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Beautiful Basie

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