The International Toy Center

If Tom Hanks's man-child character in Big had stayed in the toy industry much longer, chances are he'd have eventually ended up inside the regal building known as the International Toy Center next door to Manhattan's Madison Square Park and the famous Flatiron Building. 

For decades 200 Fifth Avenue was the site of the annual North American International Toy Fair and housed all the big toy companies like a Voltron of toy makers, including Tonka, Hasbro and Mattel. The building's rise to prominence after WWII coincided with the country's growing toy manufacturing industry, but before its present-day facade was constructed in 1909, the same address held the Fifth Avenue Hotel, a swanky and expensive (it cost up to $2.50 a night) destination for everyone from Mark Twain to Boss Tweed.

Toy manufacturers moved out of the building over the years as the industry struggled and cheaper rent was found elsewhere. New owners took over the building in 2011 to develop luxury condo apartments while somewhere in New Jersey a boy named Josh Baskin cried because losing toys is sad and he probably missed his hot older girlfriend. 

Holy Crap, People Are Walking Around Again

But I guess that's what happens when it stops being so cold that your nose hairs freeze. 

Venice's Carnival

Flashback time!

Last month was Venice's annual Carnival, which is a bedazzled costume party that started in the 13th century as a way to let nobles and commoners break free from the caste system by anonymously partying together behind masks. The party died during the late 18th century when French troops took over the city but Venice's tourism board brought it back in 1979 and now swarms of visitors travel from around the world to join in the celebration.

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I went there in 2010 and I can still remember the chill that hung in the air as my dad and I wound our way (me pretending to be in an Assassin's Creed game) through the narrow cobblestone paths to St. Mark's Square. Dozens of photographers would gather at the nearby docks to take photos of the sunrise and the church of San Giorgio Maggiore in the distance.

Our local guide was Silvano Candeo, who has photographed Venice's Carnival for many years and knew all the corners and canals (and best pizza places) hidden away from the hundreds of thirsty photographers prowling the streets. Just as important, Silvano knew many of the people who like to dress up in masks and elaborate costumes (whom we creatively called "Masks"). Like a colorful train we'd walk from photo shoot to photo shoot throughout the city, with the Masks in front and us photographers trailing behind. Last would be the inevitable passers-by who wanted to see what we were up to next.

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One of the most desired shots was to capture a Mask in front of a passing gondola. It's not as easy as it looks because Venice is basically half canal and it's not at all uncommon to accidentally to step into a waterway while composing your photo. And look, I got the photo so it was all worth it in the end.

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My favorite part of the day was when afternoon settled into evening. We'd wrap up our final photo shoot before sunset then we (or possibly just me) would stuff our faces with pizza and an espresso. By the time we'd step back outside, more people would be in costumes and the street vendors would light up their carts so each plaza and walkway felt like a different room in the same sprawling party.

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In the early 16th century, 16,000 people were believed to work in Venice's Arsenale and were able to build a ship in a single day. Boats aren't built there anymore, and in fact it's not usually accessible to the public but the area is opened up during Carnival. We spent a while photographing Masks there, but it wasn't long before we hurried off to find less crowded backdrops.

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It's hard to imagine a place like Burano existing without seeing photos of it. Our guide explained to us that the kaleidoscope of colors were used by the island's fisherman to tell their houses apart while they were sailing back with the day's haul. Apparently that might be more folklore than truth, though the local government does require all neighboring houses to have different colors. I kept a sharp eye out for any slip ups, but Burano checked out OK -- this time.

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Snow Day, Cold Day

Usually I hightail it back to my apartment when snow starts falling, but today I took a stroll down the East River Park. I saw the fattest squirrel there, shivering on a gnarled tree branch. I felt sorry for the little guy, but apparently shivering and being fat are how squirrels deal with winter weather. At least the squirrel had an excuse for chilling outside. I don't know what was going through the heads of the people I saw running and playing football. Though I guess I can't really say anything because I was the weirdo lurking in the snow with a camera. 

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Chinatown Lunar New Year Parade 2015

My friend Shelley showed me the trick to ordering dim sum. You have to hunt down the cart with the food you want and then just grab that sucker and haul it back to your table like one of those fishes that people catch by hand. This was especially useful last weekend where it was ass to jowel in our restaurant because of the Chinatown Lunar New Year Parade. It was the same way on the streets. I made eye contact with a guy on a float who was tossing tubes that shoot out confetti, but a girl with Richard Sherman skills stole the tube out of my hand before I could secure it. The going rate for those tubes is $3 by the way, which I know because I had to buy mine. Who wants to fire it off with me? 

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A Look Back At The 2014 NYC Marathon

Lots of people ask me if I'm a runner because I'm always shooting races for the New York Road Runners, which is funny to me because my personal distance record is 1.5 miles and I doubt that'll change until the day ManBearPig chases me. But I actually do enjoy being at races because they're a lot like parades, except instead of floats and political causes and inflatable animals, everyone is cheering for other people who are doing something very brave and very difficult. Almost everyone is pushing themselves to their physical limits. The leaders zoom by as fast as slow cars, and maybe the runners in the middle and the back of the pack run more slowly, but they're still wringing their bodies for the will and energy to keep moving and what's more is how so many of them still find the strength to smile and wave to the crowds cheering them on. It's all a little mystifying how they can do it without a ManBearPig in sight. 

This year I was stationed at 90th Street at the turn where Fifth Avenue slides into Central Park. It was cold and bright and exciting. Here are a few of my favorite photos from the 4,200 I took. Enjoy!

Woody The Pug

Last weekend I went out to Prospect Park for a photo shoot with Woody the pug puppy, one of the cutest little fellas I've had the pleasure to be pawed/licked by. He was a black blur sniffing everything around us and it wasn't until an hour later that he finally slowed down enough for his parents Shane and Joanna to cuddle him. I didn't expect to see any flying pugs, but Shane has apparently been teaching Woody how to get serious air. Here are some of my favorite photos from our session. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did taking them. 

Summer in the City

Did you know that caterpillars can sting? It's true, and my itchy red neck was not happy to learn that fact this weekend. I was talking on the phone when the bug plopped onto my neck and nuzzled/stung me until I threw it and my phone onto the pavement. And here I was telling my dad what a nice summer day it was. Caterpillars have no shame.

Tokyo

I spent a couple of weeks in Tokyo with my family last month. It's a huge place that reminded me of the crowds and energy of New York City but cleaner and with much more sophisticated toilets.

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A giant Gundam patrols Odaiba.

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The Meiji Shrine in Harajuku.

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A busy street corner in Shibuya.

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These are barrels of sake donated to the Meiji Shrine. Sadly, they are empty.

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I liked the broom this guy used to sweep the pathway to the Meiji Shrine.

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Eat Here.

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Toys are different in Akihabara.

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Mount Takao is very relaxing and I'm not even kidding it has a monkey playground. For some unfathomable reason we did not visit it.

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Our apartment in Shibuya was small but conveniently located, especially to the love hotels. I never did find out what that figure hanging over the window meant.

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If you squint you can see a group of cosplayers relaxing on a hill in Odaiba. Meanwhile, that is a giant ass Ferris wheel.

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Shoppers be shopping in Shibuya.

The Banner Saga

This past week I played The Banner Saga and it's making me excited about video game storytelling in a way that I haven't felt in a while. I used to play RPGs all the time, and they always felt like they were cast with random boys who grew into invincible warriors because saving the world and killing the bad guy was their destiny and I was just along for the ride. The Banner Saga manages to make it seem like my choices -- even the small ones where I have to decide how to deal with a drunken buffoon -- mean the difference between life and death for my band of ragtag followers.

Much of TBS's Norse mythology-laced story is told through gorgeous hand-drawn cut scenes, but it's basically the semi-random, multiple-choice questions that pop up occasionally that drew me deepest into the game's story. They're like SAT questions on how to lead a flock of survivors in a dangerous world: Do you recruit warriors that want to join your band, or do you insist they stay with the townspeople who are unlikely to survive without their swords? Accepting the warriors' help could land you powerful allies, but I turned them down because I'm a big softy and the town's leader gave me a shit ton of food as a thank you.

There's never a clear-cut right answer and even seemingly benign choices can have lethal consequences. One time, travelers gave me food in return for my warning of an approaching army. At first I was like, score! But a few days later a bunch of my followers keeled over because the food was either poisoned or Taco Bell. The setup reminds me of an older game called King of Dragon Pass, but it's easier to imagine a version of The Oregon Trail filled with grueling dilemmas and half the answers lead to deadly bouts of dysentery. That's the level that The Banner Saga plays at, and I'm all up in there. I've toyed with the idea of writing a book as all bloggery types seem to, but maybe instead I should work on a text adventure filled with moral quandaries, death and Taco Bell.

When I was freelancing full time I used to sleep really strange hours so at 9am I was often still awake after plugging away at a story all night. I’d go to the corner bodega and get a toasted bagel and OJ, and then walk back with a quiet, peaceful sense of calm that seemed to be reflected in the streets around me. Or maybe it was the city that was resting and I was simply luxuriating in the moment. Whatever the case, I’ve missed that feeling for almost a year as I’ve aggressively slept in every Saturday morning to recuperate from the work week’s splintering weight. Perhaps it’s time to take up yoga. 

An Oral History of the 2002 Western Conference Finals →

I love these oral histories, especially when they’re about my favorite team beating on the Kings. Hedo and Bibby, the Maloofs and those damn cow bells were all the worst. But it was impossible to hate on Bobby Jackson’s fearlessness; and the way Webber and Divac kept the team flowing was a thing of beauty.