As I stumbled from the TriBeCa loft, high on peppermint schnapps and aspiration, I busted out Larry McShutterface (my camera) for a stroll. Larry and me saw some things. Strange things. Mundane things. Complementary things. Complimentary things.

So come along everybody. You. You. Yes, even you. Over there. With the flipped collar and backwards hat. You can come too. Let’s take a little photographic journey, and figure out how Larry and me see the world on schnapps. After the jump, of course.

My Canal Street art store, Pearl Paint. I don’t own the building, but I do help keep it in business. I was urinated on by a drunk vagrant in this very spot a few months ago. Ah, memories.

Without question, I am the first person to photograph this “ScrewSacer” graffilthy. Historically speaking, Sacer is the name of a guy working at Sbarro, who is in fact a real employee, but all of his wages are garnished to pay off a sizable settlement for a molestation case.

Pearl Paint, from the street, looking up. I remember taking the Fung Wah bus from Boston to explore the city, long before I came to co-own the Nets and have 11 #1 records. Oh wait, that was Jay-Z, my Bee Sting.

Zooming in, catching a tighter frame. Nearly whited out blue. Neon sign, so red, it is in fact pink. Try to paint this, and miss any hue by 1/100000th of a nano-stroke-pigmentatoration and it doesn’t make sense.

A green post in the immediate foreground, flush with the wall. Striking red windows creating a complementary contrast. These tones have a complimentary rapport; green often notes, “how striking” red is.

A SoHo cave painting, straight out of Lascaux.

Old meets new meets newer – an architectural juxtaposition.

The Benevolent and Protective Order of the Elks, now a sinister street gang tagging everything. Don’t be fooled by their hats, the Elks cannot be trusted.

Scaffolding in Manhattan. Can you believe it?

As the sun sets in SoHo, a nanny raises the children of a rich family in his/her native language.

Trump SoHo. It’s as if the sky crystallized into a modern hotel condo in the backdrop of a depression era New York.

During the magic hour of twilight, great contrast can be found in ordinary reality.

A private garden, nearly blacked out by twilight.

Fanelli Cafe, the location of a tense showdown in the classic Hells Kitchen movie entitled State of Grace.

Classic lamp post, from the era of futurist painting.

It’s not a garage, it’s a car hold. Just before Houston Street. Pronounced, “Hows-ten” for you out of towners, not, “Hew-Stun” with a twang.

Angelica Film Center, this scene is looking London. In fact, this intersection is only about half as sexy in person. Thus, the paradox of traveling based on pictures. Also, dating over the internet. Whenever you see a photo from a top-looking-down perspective, you can expect the reality doesn’t match.

If you look at the perspective of this picture, it doesn’t make any sense. Reality is abstract, thus, when you paint something, you must skew reality to make your painting feel real. It’s all about context.

Didn’t take the time to find out who made this mural, but I have always felt it is a success. Of course, there is no wheat paste or Photoshop elements, so it has no contemporary value.

Drink your coffee Peter. How does it tasteeeee Peeeettteeerrr?

I climbed onto a flower planter to catch this piece of urban chicanery. The background looks like it was a filter, but, in fact, simply represents the filter of the eye.

Tour me this bus. How do you feel about K Mart? How about orange and blue at twilight?

Spire. Clock tower. Sexy blues.

One real light post. Another phantom floating light orb.

That is not the whale that recently crushed a yacht. Art work is very different.

Imagine if the letter “B” in “Bag” was another letter or two. It could be very interesting.

Come, AS you are. AS you’ll be. Can’t use the bathroom, if you have to pee.

The square of union. Twilight. Lots of people hanging out, doing drugs, sipping beers, getting ready to make some mistakes.

W. W. Union. Union. Square. Square.