St. Mark's
...e to sit on anymore and an illegal tattoo was hepatitis's cousin, and prepare to be spat on but today fashion is more than fiction and as the Zero Boys said, "Civilization's dying." "And the pope, the president and the big rock star who made a lotta money, they all got one thing in common" and I wouldn't be half surprised to learn that it's where they bought their hats; busted from the lines of Marky Mark's overpriced shops.Sub-cultural havens have sprung alive and died in old cities timelessly. While Boston had its Bradford and our freshmen swear by Danbury's Palace Walk as their home for alternative refuge, New York once housed the dirt. St. Mark's Place would smoke three packs before breakfast, yank you by your hair into the forward crush and put a boot in your mouth for snapping your gum wrong. Now a tourist's best friend, St. Mark's is at least the place to indulge in the illegal. Misplace your cardboards full of ecstasy and fall victim to one of the Village's finest McDonald's drug busts. Catch your boot in a sidewalk crack and fall face forward, greeted by a 14 gauge needle to the lip. Woops. It's raining studs and hoops now. Steer yourself into a street corner tent and wind up with a tarty butterfly on your backside. True in modern Marks you can't use your vomit as glue for the three million flyers to tack up wherever you give a damn, and any sense of individualism has been long lost by the floods of art students and Westchester commuter kids that fuel the scene's economy, and the Triads have abandoned Laundromats for a new overpriced alt. gear business called Search & Destroy, but the shopping strips run for miles. Tell a kid in the 70's that stairways wouldn't be free to sit on anymore and an illegal tattoo was hepatitis's cousin, and prepare to be spat on but today fashion is more than fiction and as the Zero Boys said, "Civilization's dying." "And the pope, the president and the big rock star who made a lotta money, they all got one thing in common" and I wouldn't be half surprised to learn that it's where they bought their hats; busted from the lines of Marky Mark's overpriced shops.Sub-cultural havens have sprung alive and died in old cities timelessly. While Boston had its Bradford and our freshmen swear by Danbury's Palace Walk as their home for alternative refuge, New York once housed the dirt. St. Mark's Place would smoke three packs before breakfast, yank you by your hair into the forward crush and put a boot in your mouth for snapping your gum wrong. Now a tourist's best friend, St. Mark's is...