Ten Cent Dime

An ongoing visual essay documenting life, among other things...


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Add this to the list of things not to do hung over… go to sell clothes at the buy trade sell clothing store on a Saturday morning. I walk in to the store hung over so i’m already a little disoriented, instantly I feel a sense of displacement similar to when I woke up half an hr earlier, i’m not exactly sure of the process of the whole thing, I don’t know which counter is the sell and which is the buy. I wonder around until I work it out. 
I walk to the counter and am greeted buy a guy who looks like he’s been partying for the past 67 hours and forgot about life around 3 years ago, he makes a slight grunt ehhh “heeeeiiihhh, you can wait half an hour or we can do it now” I say “umm can we do it now” the guy says “awwwlriiiight I gueaeeessss ehhhh” I have a GIANT bag full of clothes, mostly things I haven’t warn or what i’ve bought online and are too small for me and I haven’t sent them back because i’m shit at that kind of stuff. The dude pulls out a vintage sweater i’ve had for a long long time and is in amazing condition for something older than myself. I watch he pulls it out and start rubbing it on his face he then screws up his face and throws it on the table and screams at me “I”M SAWWWII BUT I JUST CAAAANTT BUY THIS OFF YOU” i’m like um ok that cool. He screams again “SOMEBODY HAS PUT THIS IN THE DRYER IN IT’S LIFETIME, I DON’T THINK THE WASHING INSTRUCTIONS HAVE BEEN ADHERED TO” i’m like um yeah it’s about 30 years so probably but it’s in really great condition he screams again “YA LIKE LOOK SIR I JUST CAANNTT I JUST CANT BUY IT OWWFF YOWWU” i’m like ok that’s fine. He screams again “LISTEN, LISTEN, YOU CAN HEAR THE WOOL CRACK” i’m like yeah it’s it doesn’t matter if you don’t want it and he finishes with “YAA LIKE I JUST CANT SORRY” 

Add this to the list of things not to do hung over… go to sell clothes at the buy trade sell clothing store on a Saturday morning. 

I walk in to the store hung over so i’m already a little disoriented, instantly I feel a sense of displacement similar to when I woke up half an hr earlier, i’m not exactly sure of the process of the whole thing, I don’t know which counter is the sell and which is the buy. I wonder around until I work it out. 

I walk to the counter and am greeted buy a guy who looks like he’s been partying for the past 67 hours and forgot about life around 3 years ago, he makes a slight grunt ehhh “heeeeiiihhh, you can wait half an hour or we can do it now” I say “umm can we do it now” the guy says “awwwlriiiight I gueaeeessss ehhhh” I have a GIANT bag full of clothes, mostly things I haven’t warn or what i’ve bought online and are too small for me and I haven’t sent them back because i’m shit at that kind of stuff. 

The dude pulls out a vintage sweater i’ve had for a long long time and is in amazing condition for something older than myself. I watch he pulls it out and start rubbing it on his face he then screws up his face and throws it on the table and screams at me “I”M SAWWWII BUT I JUST CAAAANTT BUY THIS OFF YOU” i’m like um ok that cool. He screams again “SOMEBODY HAS PUT THIS IN THE DRYER IN IT’S LIFETIME, I DON’T THINK THE WASHING INSTRUCTIONS HAVE BEEN ADHERED TO” i’m like um yeah it’s about 30 years so probably but it’s in really great condition he screams again “YA LIKE LOOK SIR I JUST CAANNTT I JUST CANT BUY IT OWWFF YOWWU” i’m like ok that’s fine. He screams again “LISTEN, LISTEN, YOU CAN HEAR THE WOOL CRACK” i’m like yeah it’s it doesn’t matter if you don’t want it and he finishes with “YAA LIKE I JUST CANT SORRY” 

Take me back to a deserted beach with nothin to do but read a book and drink from a coconut…

Take me back to a deserted beach with nothin to do but read a book and drink from a coconut…

The battle between being healthy and being a degenerate…

The battle between being healthy and being a degenerate…

Why the fuck does everyone in New York have a broken foot?

Why the fuck does everyone in New York have a broken foot?

It seems the World Cup has become my new part time job…

It seems the World Cup has become my new part time job…