Friday, February 26, 2010

Vinci's: "I'll take Manhattan in a garbage bag with Latin written on it that says 'it's hard to give a shit these days.'"

Vinci's is literally the shittiest pizzeria I've been to thus far. Excuse the easy joke, but seriously, take a look at that awning. There is a line between being unconcerned with convention regarding personal odor or clothing-dirtiness and being so filthy you get a butt rash and footrot and people are like, "Dude, come on! This isn't even about 'Fuck Society' anymore, this is about your own health!" I have lived on both sides of that line, and trust me, there is nothing punk about having a yeast infection on your taint. And much like scaly grundle-skin is not the whole of the problem, but symptomatic of the colony of Candida Yeast festering within, so too, Vinci's doodie-strewn awning hinted at greater ills lurking behind the doors.

Here are my notes on this stupid slice, verbatim:
• Weirdness. What's going on?
• I hate this pizza.
• I am so mad right now.
• "This slice is shittier than that awning." -Wes

Perhaps a reader can help me elucidate the following: there is a certain type of chicken slice that has been frequently dumpsterable for the past ten years, at least. From Woodlawn to Wall Street, Flatbush to Fluahing, I have found these slices wherever pizza is tossed away like rubbish. I imagine it so ubiquitously inhabits the trash because it is universally loathed yet cooked anyone. Someone lobbying for this pizza has pretty heavy influence, so I'm guessing it's part of a Freemason plot of some sort. Regardless of Masonic plotting, this pizza is characterized by a floppy consistency, orange color and a slightly vinegary flavor. Luckily they had a pie at Vinci's so here is a visual aid:

Whatever it's called, the plain slice at Vinci's had the same horrible flavor. Wes, who is a cook, said that it tasted like they accidentally poured the wrong spices into the sauce, but despite both of our well-trained tongues, we couldn't figure out what the hell the flavor was. No matter. The fact remains that Vinci's is a blemish on the face of the pizza community and if you want to remain proactive in maintaining our community's dignity, stay away!


Vinci's - $2.50
1122 1st Avenue
New York, NY 10065

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Sutton Pizzeria: "Some people, they like to go out dancing, and other peoples, they have to work."

Sutton Pizzeria is a weird twilight zone of awesomeness and awkwardness. While I was in there I felt at once entirely drawn to it's idiosyncratic charm with every fiber of my being, and at once repulsed by it's peculiarity and foul odor, much like the way many of my potential sexual partners must feel. The source of both the aforementioned odor and the ~strange vibes~ was easy enough to pinpoint: old people. Some people love them, some people fear them, but not unlike being in a room entirely full of children or teenagers, being surrounded by my grandparents peers is going to be strange. Not necessarily bad, but strange. And Sutton Pizzeria is no exception.

Upon entering The establishment, Wes and I were immediately confronted by an older gentleman much more concerned with his Racing Form than serving us our pizza. We headed to the back, filled with silent people diligently eating, to try our slice. The silence was oppressive. Wes and I soon realized that everybody in the place was watching a horse race on the television, including a crossing guard who didn't seem to have ordered any food and who was eating some kind of curry out of a tupperware container. I felt like I had entered the lead-in to a Charles Bukowski story, and I love it. Being a local yokel, and a total wuss who doesn't like sports, I was unfamiliar with the phenomenon of regional team sports bars until very recently. My friend Garrit goes to some bar in Park Slope or something to watch SF Giants games and it fascinates me. People get together and form relationships, despite huge differences in social class or whatever, because of a shared affinity for a Baseball Team? It's like how Caroline is getting all involved in the Bee Keeping Community. Like, really, there's a fucking Bee Keeping Community?!!? I mean, I think it rules, but sometimes it seems so Shockingly Specific to me. Is there any interest that more than one person has in this town where they don't meet up somewhere?! Remember the people that used to sit around at Alt.Coffee and make art out of metrocards?!!!>?!! Why am I getting so worked up over this?!!!?!?!?!?!?!?! Whatever, you get my point, right? In the case of Sutton Pizzeria, the commonality seems to be not interacting with each other. And horse racing.

This slice is not done justice by the photograph above, as I think my camera is sensitive to desperation. But listen, this was a good slice of pizza. It was warm and hearty, filling but not heavy. All the ingredients were top notch. I hesitate to say this slice was made with care, but it was certainly made expertly if you catch the distinction. The only thing that knocks it down to Good slice from Great slice is that the crust was kind of weird. Totally undercooked and awkward and kind of just like, not that good. I don't know how to rectify the crust with the rest of the slice, because everything else was STELLAR.

Sutton Pizzeria - $2.50
1140 1st Avenue
New York, NY 10065

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Pizza Park: "Remember that the city is a funny place, something like a circus or a sewer. And just remember different people have peculiar tastes."

Pizza Park is like a tiny oasis of Coney Island aesthetics in the barren wasteland of dull, Lenox Hill architecture. As we approached the place, I realized that, pizza-wise, the day I was about to spend eating pizza with Wesley Davis was going to be the diametric opposite of the day I spent eating pizza with Blake Schwarzenbach, inasmuch as every pizzeria Blake and I went to was a weird, totally mediocre, shithole with no character, whereas Wes and I seemed to be off to such a good start! While waiting for my slice, I noticed that this place had one of the weirdest looking Taco Slices I have ever seen. I am not really big on this sort of shit, usually, but I kind of wanted to try it. 1 2

We got our slice and headed over to the window to eat it. (Wes jokingly pointed to the Church across the street and said, "What do you think that building is?" "Oh, that? That's a Church. You can tell because of that round ornamental window on the front. It symbolizes a butthole." "I think I remember that from Catholic school. Is that God's butthole?" "St. John's butthole." Perhaps this actually doesn't translate to text very well.) There were half a dozen latina teens discussing their outrage at John Mayer's racist weiner sitting at the table next to us, the radio was playing Fantasy by Mariah Carey, and the pizza guys gave me attitude for taking pictures of their weird taco slices. To put it plain and true, I was in love with this place and I hoped the pizza would match up to its surroundings.

Sadly, I was somewhat let down. This was nearly a case of Mt. Carmel levels of disappointment, too. Everything about this slice, the cheese, the sauce, the ratios, was great. The crust was perfect! And yet somehow, even with a perfect crust, the dough beneath the slice was terribly substandard. Like, it actually tasted like the dough hadn't leavened properly, but that's obviously not the case because the crust was so good. The problem was, it was too dense and there was no "give" to any of the bites. It was like biting into corrugated cardboard. Total bummer times.

I'll still come back here, though. I'm gonna get really stoned and then eat that taco slice and then sneak into Cop Out.

Pizza Park - $2.50
1233 1st Avenue
New York, NY 10065

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

East Side Brick Oven Pizza: "Do you like comedy?"

Literally a minute before I was supposed to leave to meet my friend Wes to eat pizza I got a text from him, in response to the two I had sent earlier, that said, "I'm up! Ok. Pizza. Yes." I politely suggested we meet a little later, since he had just awakened, and then I still managed to be late in meeting him. Wes and I know each other because he dates my best friend and sister from another mister, Marcia. She is a really important lady who many people hold dear and as such, Wes has been threatened a number of times by drunk, practical strangers, most famously my Whiskey Teacher from Chattanooga, who, as he shook Wes' hand said under his breath, "listen, if I catch wind that you hurt this girl I'll drive up the 15 hours from Tennessee and whoop your ass, by God."

What separates the Wes from the Chads is that rather than reading the situation as, "gosh, this girl I'm seeing sure is friends with a bunch of erratic alcoholics," he realized it meant, "oh boy, people sure do love this lady! She must be something special." Or something. Do you follow? I haven't quite had enough coffee yet today to write coherent English. What I am trying to say is this: Wesley Davis is a man of unquestionably good character, the Osmium of Men, which in layperson speak translates to The Solidest of Dudes.

After keeping him waiting by the Zapatista hot dog salesman outside Hunter College, we trooped Eastward to have a casual encounter with a couple of slices over at East Side Brick Oven Pizza. When we got there, we each ordered our own slice because we are HUNGRY GUYS. The pizzaman put them in the oven as one massively wide slice, threw two plates like frisbees onto the counter, where they landed perfectly, flopped the double slice out of the oven onto the plates and then bisected it perfectly with the pizza slicer. All of this happened so quickly and fluidly that I thought this guy might be a ninja!

After the rad display of awesomeness, I was ready to love this place. The slice was not INCREDIBLE, but it was SOLIDLY GOOD. The crust was cooked impeccably, the cheese was decent, the ratios were great. The sauce was a tiny bit sweet, but such is life, right? Because this slice totally satisfied me, which is hard. I would totally come back here. In fact, I have to be in this neighborhood later tonight for a damn job and maybe on the way in I'll get a slice.

East Side Brick Oven Pizza - $2.75
1159 3rd Avenue
New York, NY 10065

Friday, February 19, 2010

Pastafina: "Pastafina Pizza is made in San Antonio, with fresh vegetables and spices, by people who know what Pastafina Pizza should taste like."

I ran into a friend of mine on the train yesterday, and we inevitably talked about Slice Harvester, as I was on my way to eat pizza with my close friend Wesley Davis. Amongst his total and abject honesty (buddy: how many slices have you eaten anyway? me: probably around 200. buddy: I'm disguh... you disgust me.) he leveled a harsh criticism. Quoth (paraphrasingly), "Is the Blake you're talking about this week Blake Schwarzenbach? People will probably care about that and it may behoove you to harp on it a little more." As an answer to his ridiculous question, I guess I should specify that, no, when I refer to "Blake" in these entries I'm not referring to Blake Schwarzenbach. I'm referring to William Blake, who's corpse I dug up and reanimated.

The entire afternoon walking around, Blake was pontificating and prophesying totally wild impending doom. I figured it was just remnants from all the time he spent hanging around Milton coupled with the culture shock of being reanimated into New York City, 2010. But it turns out he was just talking about Pastafina.

The slice here tasted like jarred salsa. Seriously. I kept thinking of those Pace Chunky Salsa commercials from my youth and a chorus of cowboys in my head shouted "NEW YORK CITY?!?!" every time I took a bite. At some point during the eating of this slice Blake's jaw finally rotted off and he was unable to provide me with a verbal critique, but he did draw me a picture of how eating this slice made him feel:

It also bears noting that when I left this place, after Blake and I went our separate ways, I totally barfed all over the sidewalk.


Pastafina - $2.50
876 Lexington Avenue
New York, NY 10065


Tonight I will be doing a very short reading at a Rock Concert at Shea Stadium featuring many old friends of mine's wonderful bands and projects. The show starts at 8pm, and it probably costs like, $5-7, I would imagine? All the bands are great, so you should totally come check it out. Shea Stadium is located at 20 Meadows Street, Brooklyn NY 11206. L train to Grand, I think, though I'll ride my bike there because I'm not a poser.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Mariella: "A return to New York."

For Blake and I, walking into Mariella Pizza was a symbolic return to New York. Just walking through the doors we could tell we were entering a Real Pizzeria. I'm not making the most astute observations this week, because as you may remember from my initial post regarding mine and Blake's pizza Monday, I was moderately drunk, because I love the Super Bowl. But there was a severe and crucial difference in ~vibes~ between Mariella and the other pizzerias we ate at. I was in tune with it because my third eye is a pizza pie, and Blake was in tune with it because he's from the West Coast and I'm pretty sure his parents are hippies so he spends a lot of time inadvertently communing with the world around him. Which is probably why he spends most of his free time locked up in a sound proof booth in his house!

This slice was not to die for, but compared to the crappy slices we'd been having it was a fucking delight. Nothing out of the ordinary here, decent cheese, not too much sauce, not quite crispy enough but pretty crispy nonetheless. The only real drawback of this slice was that the crust was super dry and not as fluffy as I like, but otherwise, it was a totally decent bite to eat and so far, hands down the best slice near Hunter College.

Mariella Pizza - $2.25
965 Lexington Avenue
New York, NY 10021

Monday, February 15, 2010

La Crosta: "'Gourmet Pizza' huh?"

Initially I was a little skeptical when I saw the phrase "gourmet pizzeria" on the awning of La Crosta, but it was quickly clear that it was an empty platitude. There was a certain banality about this pizzeria, and a destitute resignation in it's employees, that made me think of Samuel Beckett. My friend Andy, who's new zine Folk is probably available from The Thugs by now, wrote an essay not too long ago likening pizza to pornography.

Now if there's one thing I learned from college, it's that a smart person can write a persuasive sounding academic critique about ANYTHING and make it sound good with the inclusion of a few out of context passages from Baudrillard or Lacan. Andy compares pizza to pornography in a way that I found somewhat offensive, but also totally clever and entertaining.
The definition of pornography can be extended to encompass any object with which its user engages into a type of experience that is qualitatively less fulfilling than the experience it is aimed towards. This leads us to question what is the experience we are deferring in food when we consume something with no lasting gratification, and what kind of meal do we really hunger for? With fast food we lose the ritual of “Setting the table” as a group. Everything packaged and ready to eat, utensils included, there is no room for anything new between those that eat together. The problem is not just that the meal is reduced largely to utility, but the meaning packaged with it is similary cheapened. Pornography and fast food both remain chiefly instrumental, but in attempting to replace the experience of a communal meal or sexual communion with another person, the tacked on meaning has come to define our approach to that which it is used as a desperate replacement. At a point, the desire for a pizza experience supercedes that of the desire for actual food. When we impact this sad fact back to sex it demonstrates how a culture may be simultaneously well-fed and starving.
While I can sort of agree with the thesis here, that reducing food to utility removes agency and community orientation from people's lives, I have a fairly different relationship with both pizza and pornography than Andy does. I won't get too deep into my Personal Habits, as my mother reads this blog and other readers got up in arms a few months ago when I talked about taking a dump, but I will say that though it is not often, when I utilize pornography as a tool for helping me jerk my dick off, it is usually qualitatively pretty rad! Videos of people fucking each other and enjoying it are kind of cool sometimes!

And I really disagree that pizza is a food that removes the communal aspect of sharing a meal with other folks. If anything, the Pizza Party is one of the most festive and community oriented activities! Claiming that a food that's divided into easy to share segments for the express purpose of sharing with others contributes to alienation or detracts from a sense of community is ridiculous! Pizza builds community. Remember the words of the late Howard Zinn, "the road to a better tomorrow is paved with pizza."

All this stuff aside, though, the pizza at La Crosta was so unrelentingly mediocre and boring that I feel like I've gained some insight into where poor Andy may have been coming from. I don't recall having ever eaten pizza with the fellow, and maybe, just maybe, all the pizza he eats is as bad as the pizza at La Crosta. If that's the case I can see where he's coming from and I'll have to take him to Gino's pronto. And then we should probably stop by Babeland and get him some decent porn!

La Crosta - $2.50
436 East 72nd Street
New York, NY 10021


So, the zine is done, the release party happened and was amazing and I'm starting to get it into some stores. Slice Harvester zines are currently available at: Book Thug Nation, Whisk, Desert Island, and Academy Records Annex. I will update this list as the days go by and more places start carrying it. I think this week or some time next week I'm gonna drop by a few places in Manhattan. If anyone has suggestions on stores that sell zines, let me know in the comments.

My friend Jacob Berendes emailed me a while ago to share an old G.I. Joe Yearbook comic he scanned in which Serpentor explains the origin of Tiny Pizzas to Dr. Mindbender.

Finally, in pizza ephemera news, the new-ish Jay Electronica single, "Exhibit C" that has been all over Hot 97 lately begins with this fantastic triplet: "When I was sleeping on the train / Sleeping on Meserole Ave out in the rain / Without even a single slice of pizza to my name." And the Just Blaze beat samples one of my favorite Billy Stewart songs!

Friday, February 12, 2010

Manhattan Brick Oven Pizza & Grill: "This pizza is making me stupid."

Manhattan Brick Oven Pizza & Grill
, or Manbrivenpig as it's known among the community of mediocre pizza fans, is the dullest most boring place ever. For all the shit I talked about the Upper West Side, it is like the Castro compared to the barren, cultural wasteland around Hunter College.

The slice here was certainly noticeably better than the last two, but that's not really saying much. Permit me to go on a little tirade here, okay? When I see a sign that says "Brick Oven Pizza" I expect Neapolitan style, super thin crust, gourmet fancy shit. Which, as I may or may not have said, is totally fine by me, even really awesome. Like, if I am out at some shmancy eatery enjoying civilized society and before I get my awesome fucking bowl of garlicky mussels everyone at the table splits a little, crispy, delicious pizza, that is probably rad. However, this here internet site is called Slice Harvester, by God, not Pie Harvester. I am here to give you the rundown on what is going on in the world of the On-The-Go Street Slice. Which is only to say, whatever my feelings are about Neapolitan/Brick Oven pizza, it generally falls outside the realm of my expertise. But that doesn't mean I don't know what it fucking looks like! Do you think I'm some Midwestern Barbarian*? Now, considering the image that most people associate with "Brick Oven Pizza", this slice was a bunch of bullshit. It was just a way less substantial, totally mediocre NY Street Slice. And now, I was admittedly still drunk when I was in this place, but if I remember correctly, they didn't even have a brick oven! They just had a regular pizza oven with a brick wall right next to it to look like the side of the damn thing. I'm probably wrong about that, but if not it is some incredibly sheisty shit.

Manhattan Brick Oven Pizza & Grill - $2.50
300 East 72nd Street
New York, NY 10021

*This is not to say that Nato knows nothing of pizza, it's just that as I typed the phrase "Midwestern Barbarian" a clear image of his grinning mug came to mind and I JUST COULDN'T RESIST. Really some Minneapolis crustlord tribal-chinbeard End Times Oogle would probably have been more appropriate but what-ever.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Little Vincent's Pizza: "What is my fucking problem?"

Little Vincent's is a fairly unexceptional place in a fairly unexeptional neighborhood. When we were walking around, Blake, who is very familiar with that part of town from working at Hunter College, remarked, "I feel like only hospital bookkeepers and accountants live around here." I know they call the neighborhood Lenox Hill or something, but it might be more appropriately named Bartleby Heights.

This slice, unlike the last one, was not only bad, but exceptionally weird. When it came out Blake gave me a "what do you think" look, and I immediately told him it was too orange.
"But don't you sometimes want an orange slice?" he asked.
"Never. To me, orange is synonymous with cheap ingredients and weird synthetic flavors. I can't recall a single orange slice that I've loved out of the near 200 I've eaten."

It took me a while to place exactly what was going on in my mouth when I bit into this slice, but after a few shots off the mark, ("cheetos... no, no quite... doritos?!... it's closer, but still not there..."), I realized that this slice of pizza has the exact same after taste as Cheez-Its or Cheese Nips or one of those brands of horrid, square "cheese" flavored crackers. Maybe my friend Phil who only eats cheese crackers and mashed potatoes would love this slice, but Blake and I thought it was disgusting.

Little Vincent's Pizza - $2.75
1399 2nd Avenue
New York, NY 10021

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Delizia Pizza: "Get ready for a series of very lacklustre reviews."

Well, I've been 27 for, what, like 6 days now. And everyone knows that when you turn 27, you start your Saturn Returns, which is a spiritual and emotional journey where you learn all about yourself. And I learned something about myself on Sunday, which is that I apparently really love the Superbowl. Because Monday morning I woke up face down on my living room floor with my coat and boots still on and a vague recollection that James (who you may remember from his stunning pizza analysis some months ago) and Carla had carried me home from the bar. I recall thinking at the time that they were being so nice keeping me company on my walk home, but realized when I woke up fully clothed on the floor that they probably acted more out of civic duty, which is not to say it wasn't nice regardless.

Anyway, I went back to sleep because I knew I would be eating pizza with my friend Blake in a few hours and I wanted to make sure I made it to meet him. When I awoke again at 1pm, I realized in talking to my roommate that I was still quite drunk. This concerned me slightly because it occurred to me that I would have to deal with a hangover some time down the line, although that thought didn't concern me for very long because I was enjoying being drunk.

When I got out of the subway at 77th Street an hour or so later to meet Blake, I was still somewhat tipsy and told him so. "You are walking with a bit of an added swagger, aren't you?" he observed. One of the reasons I like hanging out with Blake is that I feel the need to articulate myself well and never be lazy with my vocabulary when he's around. Not in a way where he puts me on the spot or I feel nervous or anxious, but he's a smart, well-spoken guy, and draws it out of me. It is something I relish when we spend time together and that I appreciate about our friendship.

Sadly, none of that was present on Monday, because I was still drunk from the night before and he had spent days locked up in his house writing and so we were both just acting CRAZY. And though we did talk a LOT while we walked around and ate, I realize that, while all of our conversation was informative and worthwhile (I learned about the Dixie Chicks, Blake learned about Beyonce), very little of it was about pizza, as is apparent from my sparse notes.

Delizia, the first pizzeria we visited, did not help us find our Critic's Voices. Both this place and the slice they served us were both SO BORING.

My notes from this pizzeria in their entirety:
  • flimsy & sweet
  • i have nothing to say about this slice, it is terribly boring.
Luckily for us, even if the pizza wasn't good, they at least had a mural with a really detailed Lady's Ass. I wish I had taken a picture of the father and child about two feet over, because the artist spent a lot more time on this woman's ass than that baby's face.

Delizia 73 - $2.26
1374 1st Avenue
New York, NY 10021

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Figaro Pizza: "This slice sucked. I'll let Frank O'Hara handle it."

when the tears of a whole generation are assembled
they will only fill a coffee cup

Figaro - $2.50
1469 2nd Avenue
New York, NY 10075


You know how I occasionally recommend a record or a band to you idiots? Well this past Saturday was the record release party for my friends Shellshag's new record, Rumors In Disguise and it was an incredibly good time. I picked up a copy of the record and I've been flipping it back over to side 1 and starting it again every time it ends. This shit RULES. Joe Porter also pointed out that you can see a little sliver of our old band Nasty Intentions' cassette tape on the back cover.

In other news, I had and will have some very exciting pizza companionship this week! Yesterday I spent the day scarfing slices with my friend Blake Schwarzenbach, who I doubt you've heard of, but he's currently in a band called Forgetters with my friend Caroline who used to be in a band called Bitchin' with a lady who was married to a guy from Hot Water Music, so that makes them like, famous-by-proxy or something. Either way, it was fun. Those posts will be up starting tomorrow. And then tomorrow I'll also be going out and eating a slice or two with my friend Ernie and he is going to read my Tarot! Fun witchy times for everyone.

And finally, don't forget that I'm having a party this Friday at Book Thug Nation on N 3rd and Berry in the parochial Williamsburg section of the obscure borough of Brooklyn. It is from 8-10pm, and there's almost definitely gonna be free pizzas and also I will buy some beer or a few jugs of wine or something.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Ciao Bella Napoli: "There is an oil painting of the owner with a halo hanging above the hallway to the bathrooms."

Ciao Bella Napoli ain't bad. There's worse pizza, and there are worse place to spend your time, though it does suffer from total Olive Garden Syndrome. The people in here were nice, and for some reason the corny music was less offensive because it was Italian American crooners and not rustic Italian folk music.

The slice was totally decent, if not great. Upon hearing me take my first bite, Erick said it had a "cinematic crunch. That sounds like the sound effect of a piece of pizza crunching." And it did, because this slice was cooked pretty damn excellently. The sauce tasted ever so slightly of fresh tomatoes, which was really pleasant. The cheese was totally bland, though, which really detracted from what would have been an otherwise incredible slice.

Frank O'Hara had this to say:

and I'll be happy here and happy there, full
of tea and tears. I don't suppose I'll ever get
to Italy, but I have the terrible tundra at least.

And that's all for today, because it's my birthday, and I have other things to do.

Ciao Bella Napoli - 2.35
1477 York Avenue
Manhattan, New York, NY 10075

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

La Mia Pizza: "I want to hang out in here for hours."

When we walked into La Mia, Erick and I were confronted by what can only be described as a pervasive warmth. Not just literal warmth, because it was noticeably hotter in there than it was outdoors, but a figurative warmth. I felt comfortable. It was so comfortable in there, in fact, that one of the employees was fast asleep against the soda fridge.

Confronted by this degree of comfort, we were really hoping our slice would be decent. So I ordered one up and it looked totally great and smelled pretty damn appetizing.

This slice was absolutely not amazing, but it was totally good. Perhaps the scales were tipped by how much I enjoyed the ~vibes~ at La Mia, but I'll give you the rundown. The ingredients were all of superb and top quality. The cheese was good, the dough was cooked well, but lacked a defining crunch, the sauce was totally inoffensive but also totally unexceptional, the crust was nothing to complain about. Overall, this slice was lacking something to tip it into the realm of Totally Fucking Unbelievably Amazing Holy Shit Holy Shit Holy Shit WOW!, but rests firmly and comfortably in the realm of Damn Can't Complain That Was Satisfying.

Frank O'Hara had this to say:

yet I do not explain what
makes me so happy today

La Mia Pizza - $2.25
1488 1st Avenue
New York, NY 10075


In other news, I got a really sweet email today from a guy named Manuel who runs Tito's Pizza in East Harlem thanking me for my review of "not only [his] pizza shop... but for all pizza shops!" and informing me that Tito's has dropped their price down to $1.00 from $1.50. Hopefully the quality hasn't decreased because that slice was pretty good.

I'd also like to mention that I packaged up the first bundle of pre-release zines that are going out to all my donaters, and you only have one more week to get a zine early by donating, so if you want to remain on the cutting edge and be hipper than your neighbors, send me cash via paypal ASAP! Of course, if you don't donate you'll be able to buy one like the rest of the plebes, but you won't have the smug satisfaction of knowing that you got yours early.

And a reminder that next Friday, February 12th, I'll be having a zine release party at Book Thug Nation in Williamsburg. It's pretty exciting, because BTN is a bunch of my friends and I'm excited to have some kind of collaborative event there. Did I post this scan of the cover yet:

And by "scan" I mean "shitty camera phone picture".