hipstomp photo essays

Monday night I got in my car and drove to Pennsylvania.

Tuesday morning I climbed into an old pickup with Mike and Shady and drove to Ohio.

As you might expect, there’s not a whole hell of a lot to see between Pennsylvania and Ohio.

Blending in is not an option. The clerk at the gas station in Bumfuck refused to return my “hello” or make eye contact, and then cursed at me when I tried to pay for the gas with Mike’s 100-dollar bill.


The next customer to enter the gas station was white. He got a friendly “hello.”

It’s no secret that I prefer the city.

But once in a while a friend asks you for a favor, so you have to do things like leave New York to help them move from Ohio to Pennsylvania in a borrowed, crappy pickup built by disgruntled workers in Detroit two decades ago.

Once we got to Columbus we stopped at a U-Haul and had a 5x8 trailer hooked up to the back.



The loading was hellish. I have no pictures of the loading because I was too busy cursing myself for saying yes when I could’ve been at home in my own bed shirtless, covered in cookie crumbs and watching “Access Hollywood” while the phone rings and rings.

We packed the trailer tighter than the six-train at rush hour. Opening the door will activate the Messy Marvin closet sequence. For safety’s sake we made the tarp lousy with ropes.

We crashed overnight at Lovanna’s. She just bought a house, you know. It’s two storeys. Lovanna’s six years my junior and she owns something that has a staircase inside it.

The drive back was even more unremarkable than the drive up, because most of it took place at around 50 miles per hour. An underpowered Dodge Dakota with a 5x8 hooked up to the back of it moves about as fast as an unmedicated Rush Limbaugh.

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I had to live out here in these small towns by the highway.

Lucky for me, I don’t have to wonder long.

Hi.

A sidewalk monster feeds a building delicious sheets of wallboard.

The shadow on the left is a moving vehicle encroaching on my photograph.
This displeases me greatly.

This is after I used my psion rays to destroy the encroaching vehicle. The occupants inside were unharmed although I was forced to teleport them to Buenos Aires. I hope they carry credit cards.

I am in love with certain types of light.
This isn’t it but I just thought I’d tell you.

If you love someone, set them free.
If you love someone but you’re a bizarre artistic freak, take photographs of them and their belongings, then tape the photos to small padlocks and shackle them to a mesh fence on Crosby Street.

HLA 37 is not fooling around.
HLA 37 will back up and fucking kill you.

For some reason, this silly picture of this stupid van has become one of my favorite photos.
I can’t describe why but it’s an insta-classic.

Welcome to the rat race.
Gentlemen, start your engines.

Don’t touch me.
Nobody touch me.