Black Sullivan And His Girls
April 14, 2013 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Stories
(“At The Brothel,” circa 1850 – Photoshopped by Joe – Orig. below) “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” – Psalm 23:4 – Having just awoken, I leaned out the window and watered [...]
Old Dan Tucker
February 28, 2013 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Stories
(Original Jim Crow) In the eyes of the men in the brass band I could see they were smiling. They did their best to play “Jump Jim Crow” and paid little mind to the black-faced minstrel singer named old Dan Tucker. He kept coming close to knocking into them. Dancing so crazed, he looked like a fighting cock. I guzzled another glass of spiced rum, and [...]
House of Laughter
February 1, 2013 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Staten Island, Stories
(Vohezer’s House – Photo/photoshopped by Joe – Orig. below) I was on the couch in front of our *50″ LG plasma TV with my feet up, because that’s what I like to do. Guy Fieri was on TV lapping at his digits, while his eyes bulged as big as doughnuts as he tried to tell [...]
Surviving the Night
December 31, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Staten Island, Stories
(Rose and Crown Tavern in New Dorp, 1665-1854 – Photoshopped by Joe – *Orig. below) I was roaring drunk as Minna pulled me by the hand through the crowded tavern. Along with the proprietor and his wife behind the bar, we were the only ones in motion. Yet quick-moving shadows peeled up and kept disappearing from the walls. I was looking about for the source, [...]
I Am The Fire
November 26, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Stories
(Center Street in Richmond Town – Photo/photoshopped by Joe) With some trepidation of never seeing our fine oyster sloop again, we left it tied to a makeshift pier in New Dorp Beach and set out on a horse-drawn cart Jack had sent for prior to our coming to Staten Island. We headed along a wooded road surrounded by farmland that ran straight up [...]
Hurricane Sandy
November 5, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Photos, Staten Island
(Photos by Joe) Look closely at the above photo and you can see the height the water rose to on the brickwork. This house is on a section of a street that is about three to four feet higher than other sections of the neighborhood. All of these photos are from Midland Beach in Staten Island, except [...]
Hurricane Sandy – Staten Island
November 5, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Photos, Staten Island
(Photos by Dave) My brother took these photos. All are from either Midland Beach or South Beach in Staten Island. They were taken about five days after the hurricane first hit. Click here to see more Hurricane Sandy pics. Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels
My Blood Is Your Blood (Hear The Beast!)
November 5, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Stories
(Image is uncredited - Photoshopped by Joe) May 1854 – New Dorp Beach. In the same spot by the water, where I had just seen a horned creature surrounded by a blood-red mist, there now stood an old man. He was staring out across the clear bay. A lump on his right shoulder seemed to place a great weight on his back [...]
What’s In A Name?
October 7, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Stories
(“Face of Fear” – Uncredited) The voice seems to come through frozen lips, which are surrounded by atrophied muscles, sounding as if the speaker is a bloodless thing(which it is). No matter the identity it assumes, I always recognize the tone. Plus the words it chooses trigger ruminations of previous encounters… “I’m only looking out for you. I have your best interests [...]
The Light of God
September 25, 2012 by Bald Punk
Filed under Fiction, Secrets of NYC, Stories
(Catholic Priest from 1850s. Photoshopped: *see below for orig./credit) He hadn’t been drunk the first time I met him. He had a bit of gin in him, that’s all. And he was not an itinerant worker. He was a priest. It was his look that fooled me, not quite that of a souse, more of a man [...]