I went walking past the Hasidum in Williamsburg and fell into a fever dream of fire hydrants and silent film… something about their hats fills me with Chaplin and Keaton and their women dressed from the twenties and wigs and the brick and the city and the heat and the F-15 fighter bomber and trains and Friends back from Israel and I am struck by how Religion is very much like nostalgia. It’s nice to believe in history even if no one ever seems to learn shit from it. There’s David and there’s Goliath and they are standing in the naked street waiting for the paparazzi.
