Band in D.C.

Some days I applaud a good inspirational magnet, even if it is securing the object of my ire to the wall.















It wouldn't be DC without FUGAZI




Or these douche bags and their rollerblades gathering at a gas station to bulk up on some carbs in anticipation of a brisk, Sunday afternoon skate. I was previously unaware that these types of things occur naturally in daily life. I feel blessed to have witnessed it, much less photographed it.
















Stylophone. Like a Xylophone only much, much cooler.
















Today I will mostly be projecting my face onto a 30-foot-high backdrop because I can.















..And maybe tearing into these little fuckers.















When Basquiat made it big, people in New York tore down walls that bore his graffiti only to sell them to collectors. When this guy strikes it rich I can say that I was there, and saw, with my own two eyes, the Mona Lisa of crudely drawn cocks. I mean, it's like one of those Russian dolls. Somewhere in there is a really tiny, blue dick.
















you are a fucking cunt