Greenpoint: The Napping Spot
After reeling from yesterday’s revelation that Sotheby’s has seen fit to market a rather craptastic ‘townhouse’ in my humble neighborhood, I have managed to recompose myself. The fact they would even touch a property like this is proof-positive that ANYONE will hawk ANYTHING if the neighborhood “Greenpoint” associated with it. It’s friggin’ ridiculous.
I have been increasingly bemoaning the fact that my neighborhood is rapidly becoming a bedroom community for trustifarian kids and affluent wannabe ‘hip’ 40+ somethings. There is not the same sense of community here there once was. This depresses me to no end— and when I get the blues (like yesterday) I go for a walk.
As I was headed home from a four hour jaunt I swung by McCarren Park to use the bathroom. That’s when I saw a trio of middle-aged Polish women yammering away on a park bench. I don’t know what they were talking about (I do not speak Polish). But whatever it was it must have been pretty interesting because they didn’t seem to notice the homeless dude passed out on a mattress fifteen feet in front of them.
In fact they didn’t seem to notice his buddies either. This is understandable; being the sensible chaps they were, they opted to sleep in the shade.
New York City may be the city that never sleeps, but Greenpoint is it’s napping spot. Fuck, you’ll find people crashed out all over the goddamn place!
I for one am of the belief the above gentleman were hired by the real estate industry as a selling tool. When John Q. Fucktard outlays a ridiculous sum of money for his spiffy new condominium (on Karl Fischer Row, naturally) that ‘gritty’, ‘urban’ feel better be built right in! Even authenticity has a price nowadays— and it ain’t cheap.
That’s what I call good ol’ American entrepreneurship!