I was all like “who the shit is that?” A beat-ass looking dude, all jacked and in a stained polo, stubbly, an hungover walked up to the front door and knocked. I opened it and it hit me that it was my dude Dean. That dude hauled ass from SF to Virginia in like less than a hot second after I’d sent…
Splenda-Magnolia
On The Bro'd: 152 - The Wrangler Unlimited Can Rip it Up
Land’s End Mansion, Sands Point, NY: It may have the inspiration for Daisy Buchanan’s house in ”The Great Gatsby. The 20- room, white-columned home on 13 waterfront acres was perfect for the lavish parties thrown by its onetime owner, Herbert Bayard Swope, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and publisher of the New York World. The spectacular fetes drew boldface names of the Roaring Twenties, including Winston Churchill, George Gershwin and the Vanderbilts. But it needed too much work to be livable by today’s standards and there was nary a buyer among the neighbors, though preservationists and F. Scott Fitzgerald aficionados balked at its demise. Last March, the wrecking ball struck, clearing the land for Seagate, a new, gated community of five custom $10 million to $17 million mansions.
This is such a shame.
Nothing makes people feel more comfortable than driving by their house really slowly, and taking pictures out the window of your car. Sometimes the perma-stoned college dropout lawn-care guy will glance up at you in an apprehensive manner. Of course this part is up to you, but my favorite response to this is to flip open my wallet nonchalently, as if I was one of the Men In Black, and my college ID was an FBI badge, all the while driving slowly by and staring at him over the top of my sunglasses. Somewhere in the THC soaked depth of his brain, the lawn-care guy is thinking shit, it’s the feds, I hope they don’t know about the pot garden I’ve hidden behind the rosebushes. Of course it helps to be wearing a black suit and driving a nondescript black late model sedan of domestic origin, but if you’re the kind of person who slowly drives by houses taking pictures, you already know this.
p.s. In retrospect this whole occurrence was so much creepier than I intended it to be. p.p.s. whatever
“ I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again. ”
Charles Bukowski (via elenimanganas)
