With the passing of Burritoville, enjoy this erotic prose-poem in memorium, by Asha Veal. An excerpt: "My mind masturbates to the memory of a giant burrito. Mystical Frisco! I want to scream his name. That beige skinned lovah’ used to have me panting. Fronted like he came from South of the Border, but really was made in Queens. The whole-wheat warmness. Rice and beans stank sticky, all steamed up between tortilla folds." [Slice]
The Donnell Library, in its transformation into a $220 million luxury hotel, has pretty much "checked out"--here's a photo from reader BaHa showing the sad and sorry state:
Tin Pan Alley on its last legs, as a swirl of development envelops 28th Street and Broadway. [Curbed]
Check out the "best damned Halloween display" in NYC. [NYS]
Celebrate a spooky Halloween at the Merchant's House.
"Oval Lifestyle associates" really sounds like something out of Soylent Green. [SLL]
Enjoy this photo gallery of sad, mad, and all-around extremely upset Wall Street traders. [Gawker]
Wall Street bull's got blue balls. [Gothamist]