For those of you who have heard about the [small plane crash](http://www.gothamist.com/archives/2006/10/11/helicopter_cras.php) – I’m fine. Not my building, although very close by.
I [took a few pictures](http://www.flickr.com/photos/remydwd/tags/72ndstcrash/). Gawker has some [better ones](http://gawker.com/news/photos/first-photos-plane-crashes-into-manhattan-building-206915.php) – the scorch mark is unreal.
Friends, particularly those in NYC: Please come to Channel 102 on Monday.
If you are just tuning into me talking about 102 – it’s a short film competition that runs nearly every month. Up to ten television shows, of no more than five minutes in length, do their best to entertain the audience. At the end, the audience takes their ballots and votes for their five favorites. The top five survive, chosen to make another episode. The rest are canceled, never to be shown at 102 again.
Channel 102 has been the venue where a number of great, great shows have been screened. From the hilarious (Dr. Miracles, Cakey) to the silly (28 Day Slater, Cat News) to the strange and twisted (Sexual Intercourse American Style, Puppet Rapist) to the epic (Shutterbugs, Gemberling) – I could go on and on, but you can peruse the list of cancelled and failed shows on your own.
If you don’t come, there is a significant chance that Tony Carnivale will break my kneecaps. No one wants that. Tony has assured me he doesn’t *want* to break my kneecaps – but if push comes to shove, he might not have a choice. So come to the screening! I’ll be handing out ballots, taking photos, and hanging around the after party.
(I am joking. Tony is awesome and would never do anything to harm my kneecaps. I think.)
If you aren’t in the NYC area, you have a couple of options: add 102 to your MySpace, subscribe to the podcast to get new episodes, or hit the forums.
A dirty bum stretches out on 2nd Ave, making the section of sidewalk his own. The population of the East Village treats him as damage and routes around him.
He pulls out a cyan packet of tobacco and sloppily rolls a cigarette. His head relaxes on the concrete step as he lights the cigarette, closes his eyes, and takes a long drag.
He doesn’t matter to the world, and the world doesn’t matter to him.