Backpacking in Brooklyn

No, I didn't carry my backpack around Bklyn this weekend (though I sorta wish I did!). I had to make do with a night around a campfire. Actually, it was more like a large flowerpot with plywood burning in it. Placed in the middle of someone's concrete backyard at a house party in Prospect-Lefferts Gardens. Surrounded by people in scarves drinking whiskey and PBR and eating pie and arguing the merits of Camel Wides. I got to catch up with three writer friends of mine—Chris and CDB and Hansen—one of which met Spank Rock in the kitchen; one of which didn't know Spank Rock and, by virtue of being white and off the heezy, was promptly dubbed "Spank Rock"; and one of which promised to invite me to the East Village for pork butt tacos. It was a great late night. I've never gotten on a subway and smelled woodsmoke on my jacket before—and I even got a whiff of it this morning when I finally woke up to a brisk fall day. The only thing missing: the s'mores. OK, maybe not the only thing. In New York, though, you take open fire when you can get it.

But someone else apparently backpacked around Brooklyn: In this clip, two dudes walked from Red Hook to Greenpoint. It doesn't exactly remind me of Colorado. But I wanted to post a couple photos anyway, for nostalgia's sake. Hi, Rach!

Happy to be in the Indian Peaks:


Still Life with Chloe:


Atop Sawtooth Mountain: