A year ago today I had just landed in Miami on my way back from Havana and was staying on north beach for a few days, chain smoking in the sun and wondering what to do on my return to the city or, more substantially, with my life and whether the really hard life of cash stuffed pockets and beautiful women and liquor lubricated socialising was all it had been cut out to be.
Now, I still make drinks and serve food and most likely will do so for the rest of my existence but we are building what I think will be the most beautiful and interesting space in New York and I’m Honoured to be working with the people I do.
Also How many more fucking private member clubs and blank street coffees are really necessary do you know what I mean.
Oi Oi it feels like spring. I hope that maybe in another life will sit quiet and write and smoke but this one is too fast. God Everything at the Oscars was shit. Currently Walking west on bleeker. Hit me with any good restaurant names.
It’s crisper in the city and I fear short days and seasonal sicknesses and the sort of wind that slaps you like it was waiting to all year. Bless work and bless whiskey and bless women . It’s Going to be a beautiful winter
Read jack Kerouac while in Cuba and Hemingway whilst on the road across American because I’m an idiot. It does feel good to have started reading again nonetheless and of course even better taking photos doing it. Any recommendations welcome but I am a slow reader and easily distracted. In this photo I’m in New Orleans not reading but thinking of how overweight everyone there was.
