Ranting Details

Triptych: Park Play

Umm...BIP/BON?

Where is BIP/BON?  It's in Time Out New York, that's where!!!

What is BIP/BON?  It's a reminder.  One year ago, shortly after being diagnosed with Chronic Epstein Barr Virus, I was sitting on the floor of my dark apartment doing breathing exercises in an effort to find stability in a shifting world.  I was at risk of losing my job as a professional dancer, my friends were becoming unused numbers in my phonebook, and most days I did little more than walk to a park bench to read a book, growing weaker with each page turn until I sauntered home.  I couldn’t believe a twenty-two-year-old stared back at me when I looked in the mirror; I felt like I’d aged at least that many years in the previous six months.  Despite all of the pain and confusion, with each inhale and exhale I visualized breathing in the positive, then breathing out the negative, and felt tears race down my cheeks as I shifted perspective; no matter how negative a situation may seem, there is always something positive to hold onto...even if that something is an acronym.  You know, like LMFAO or NASA.  Neither of which should be used along with BIP/BON.  It is nothing to laugh my fucking ass off about.  

When is BIP/BON?  It's anytime, as is evidenced by the totally candid photos below of complete strangers who felt so compelled by the logo emblazoned on their chest that they had to strut through Soho and start writhing against bricks.  It's a good thing I was walking by with a camera. 

Don't you want one? (Sexy models not included.) Just think what a great conversation starter you’ll have at that holiday party when someone looks at your shirt and asks, “What the hell is BIP/BON?!”  It's your new mantra; that's what it is. 

BUY YOUR BIP/BON SHIRT TODAY!!!!!

 

 

TIME OUT NEW YORK BLURB AFTER THE JUMP!!!

Baby Death Gets a Burger

When standing in line for a burger at Shake Shack (the Madison Square Park staple) there is little to do but listen to your stomach.  Each step forward through the course of an hour (which is a typical wait time) finds conversation dwindling, as salivation overtakes social grace.  That is exactly where I found myself yesterday evening, as Lauren, Michael and I decided to treat ourselves to a late night burger and shake. 

Just as we were about to board the subway I decided that the light outside was too good for me to forgo taking pictures, so I ran back to my apartment and grabbed my camera case.  Not only were we coming up with creative children's book titles ("Baby Death Gets a Burger," the first in a new "Curious George"-like adventure series featuring a baby grim reaper doing grownup activities), but we also managed to turn the park into an episode of "America's Next Top Model."  Damn these gorgeous people!

 

(This was one of my first time taking close portraits as well!  Very fun, but also challenging.) 

(Dreaming of burgers and shakes...and Baby Death.)

("But I want an Oompa-Loompa a burger now!")

("Never mind, I want to shoot a Gossip Girl ad.")

("Do you think the people care that we're repeatedly using a flash while standing in line?")

("Just wait until they check out Ranting Details, then they'll wish we had taken MORE!")

("True.  They'll see I can sing my ass off AND do American Apparel ads.")

("Whatever happened to Matt?!")

("I'm EATING MY BURGER!!!!")

("We ate so fast that we turned into fuzzy blobs!")

("Oh, nevermind.  We're still giving it. But what about Lauren?")

("Oh, she's giving "Sex and the City" poster for us.")

("I certainly am.")

("But now it's time to go home and collapse."  It's hard for them to eat burgers AND be beautiful.)