Last week someone left me a good comment about my pictures of “self-absored, shallow hipsters.” And followed it up with:

“But the fuck you care, right Coltrane? Because you pricks are young, rich, and good-looking (for the most part). So you can all go to hell.”

I appreciated the feedback and took some time to think about who I spend my time with, the fuck I don’t care, and that I should download some more John Coltrane. That’s when I realized that I hang out with a group of folks that live in the projects of East Williamsburg more than any individual “hipster” friend of mine. I’ve been working on a story about an ex-con named J. And while I’m not prepared to share that story here right now, I will post some outtakes that I’ve gathered while hanging out with J and his friends.


We spend most of our time on Stagg Street in front of the bodega. Some men talk business as an unwanted police van drives by.


Hustle the dog used to hang out on the corner with us until J gave him to his cousin because to keep in his backyard.


Mikey just got locked up for a year for copping crack for some old-timer. He’s spent 22 years of his life in prison so one more ain’t shit. He’s crazy but the gun isn’t real.


Mikey found some firecrackers.


I think Harriel got locked up too. I haven’t seen him in a month. People seem to come and go in this neighborhood a lot. He’s the goofball. Dancing to Biz Markie on the car stereo.


J’s been like a bad older brother to me. I’ve learned a lot from him over the last few months. Streetwise.


Waving at the adult short bus.


J loves this little guy but says he’s slow in the head.


They make money running a car wash with the hydrant on warm days.


Mikey boxes the tree using a sparring glove he found on the street.


This is for walking around at night. His wife carries the other side.


The socks at their local bodega are good for hunting.


J’s wife prays to this.


Santi enjoys a frosty malt beverage in the mid-morning sun.


Beer trumpet.


This is my crew. Good guys who’ve made some bad decisions.


For whatever reason, Santi has no teeth.


Good thing too because J would smack the teeth outta Santi’s head if he had any left.