Fans of De La Vega's work will recognize this shattered dream that caught my eye on 87th Street, written on broken, soaken shards of glass. Despite the downer songs I've chosen to accompany this, I saw such beauty here--golden raindrops mirror-balling in the streetlight, hope rising out of a freakin' bag of garbage over the subway grate that some guy used to stand under as he looked up ladies' skirts. (Really, that's true, it was a couple years ago.) Seriously, remember what Nietzsche said about smashing everything and starting anew?
P.S. I took this photo with my new iPhone!
Kicked out of his band, tax evasion, handguns, ten vials of crack in 1/2 hour. Oh dude, we can hear dreams dying, dying in your beautiful voice even here:
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