On toilet doors you sometimes see fancy graphics, stylized versions of the little dude and chick that tell us which little room to go in to do our business. I’ve seen Picasso-esque renderings, melting-egg Dali versions, etc..
Kei is a funky if kind of mad old guy I met one night on a random photo-walk through Shinjuku’s skyscraper district (West). I was on the bridge shooting pretty city lights and so was he, me with my dSLR and he with some weirdly contrived home-made compact camera.
by Michael John Grist.
I found him one mad marsh-walking night. I was out in the bogs, I don’t know why, crossing wet rivers and wading through peat mulberry patches, dashings of filth worming their way into the cuffs of my suit turn-ups, smidgeons of muck smudging up and under my fingernails.
This is where planes go when they die. Vast hulks of metal that cost millions to build, now grounded in obsolescence, taken out to the boneyard to be shot in the head like Old Yeller. Their long neat lines look a lot like the white tombs of fallen soldiers at Arlington cemetery, seemingly endless in number, waiting for the day they will be hacked open like sheet-metal pinatas to get at the valuable guts within. Fallen soldiers at a final roll call in the boneyard. The boneyard is just one part of the Mojave Air and Space Port, the same …
Raising kids is tough. Ask any parent and they’ll talk to you for hours about the hundreds of daily decisions they face in naturing and nurturing their kids into healthy little human robots.
The Juan T. Trippe Jumbo Jet was once the crown jewel of the Pan Am fleet, built in 1970 as the world’s first commercial jumbo jet. Now it’s the shabby ruin of a high-concept restaurant in Seoul, South Korea. I visited in the summer of 2009, with SY. This is the story of our explore, and the story of how such a historic plane ended up in such bizarre circumstances. Nose cone of the Juan T. Trippe I was in Korea to visit SY’s family and get to know something about her country. On our trip we visited all the …
by Michael John Grist
The first stage in the construction of New Atlantis went quietly, and the world scarcely noticed. It looked enough like a new ship or oil drilling platform on the satellite photos that no other nation would pay it too much mind.
Cinema is the American cultural export, a clearinghouse genre jam-packed with iconic images, historical rewrites, and the changing face of the Western hero.
It was my second time to visit the ruins of the Queen Chateau. It’s a bizarre abandonment, a giant soapland in the midst of a cluster of still-functioning soaplands presiding over them like the towering castle in the suburbs in Edward Scissorhands. Within its walls sex was transacted for money on a grand scale, on 6 floors of executive suites, four per floor, each kitted out with a large bath, private bar and a bed. 3 Venuses in the lobby, behind the fountain It’s a little odd to talk about going to a soapland, even one in ruins. Perhaps it’s …
by Michael Brown “I had a life once,” the trucker said pushing away the unfinished food on his plate. He downed the coffee. He ate late in diners. Slept in his truck or in motel rooms. Hazards of his occupation. “Why so sad tonight?” Cherise said, pouring another cup. “Maybe I’m thinking about my ex a little too much lately.” Truth was he could not stop himself thinking about her these days. After hauling another load of farm products from the midwest to the east coast Mack had returned to Plainsville drawn by what, he could not quite say. He …
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