BALD PUNK

Stories

White Fire

(Front Street – Photo by Bald Punk) After a winter’s evening spent imbibing beer with the b’hoys, I slipped out of Jeremy’s Ale House onto the cobbled Front Street with a kick in my step. Only now do I realize that a presence was waiting for me. Without body or visible shape, he followed me to the subway on Fulton and Broadway. At... [Read more of this story]

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Forces of Heaven and Hell . . .

(Photos by Bald Punk – Birds Leaving Tompkins Square Park) I can’t get the eyes of a demon named Old Seven out of my head. At all hours of the day and night I can see him staring at me from Avenue A in the East Village. I confided in a clairvoyant known as Benny, “the cigar store Indian.” He said Old Seven merely left an imprint on Avenue... [Read more of this story]

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The Eyes on Avenue A

At night on the streets of NYC I’ve been hearing ghostly music. It usually doesn’t rise above the typical city noise. Mostly it’s a solo piano, brass or stringed instrument playing. In the times it catches my ear, I find myself envisioning a lonely ghost in a back alley honing his craft. If I had any fears over the music,... [Read more of this story]

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Music of the Night

  (U2 – “Hands That Built America” – Music Video by Bald Punk) From the moment we stepped outside our Upper Manhattan apartment, I was in a bad way. The pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) knew it. They kept shooting glances at me when my lady friend(LF) wasn’t looking. They tried to mock concern, which, I’m... [Read more of this story]

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Dreaming of Lincoln

(Abraham Lincoln) I met this kid who looked like Abraham Lincoln. I’m still referring to him as a kid even though he was a junior in college and 6’4.” Fresh-faced with an uncanny presence, he said his name was Alexander and that his nickname was Buddy. I called him Alex. It wasn’t until our second meeting when I caught him off-guard with a... [Read more of this story]

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A Stranger No More . . .

Last weekend I met this emo kid who wasn’t so much a kid. Very tall and gaunt, with the look of a man twice his age, my guess is that he was either a college freshman or a runaway. Our conversation lasted a few minutes, and with all the spiritual activity in NYC, I should have forgotten about him. But his face continues to surface in my memory. I’m... [Read more of this story]

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THE FIRST MISTAKE

As a rule I avoid talking to strangers, and my guard goes up when they talk to me. The most an interloper will get out of muah is a furrowed brow or at best, a grumble. Yesterday I not only broke my rule, I initiated a conversation. And now I find myself unable to get the stranger’s face out of my head–who actually was a kid, not much older... [Read more of this story]

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The Elephant and the Looking Glass

(Central Park photos by Bald Punk) Under twilight skies I climbed into a horse-drawn carriage, bowed my head below the half-canopy and plopped down in the rear seat. Not a second later the driver snapped the reins and gave a curt whistle. The horse snorted, sending up a plume of smoke. The carriage jutted forward to the steady clop of hooves, shaking... [Read more of this story]

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Barnum in Central Park

(Photos by Bald Punk – Central Park W & 72nd St)  I could retrace my steps to this morning and point out little signs that indicated something otherworldly lay in my path. Not that what ensued was earth-shattering. I had another encounter with a ghost. Yet it’s interesting to note how sometimes when I have such a meeting, I find that I’m... [Read more of this story]

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