Now that my mother is safely on her way to the Land of Enchantment (replete with meth and trailer), I find myself woefully behind on my correspondence. Those of you who have emailed me and have yet to receive a response, it is nothing personal. I am simply all talked out right now. As I write this tome I am sipping an ice cold beer and enjoying something I have not experienced in about a week: being alone.
Anyhoo, I received the following email from my Poo Bag Dispensing Buddy:
Subject: I am sure you are aware of this…
but i had to send this to you.
im not sure when it opened since i haven’t been very detailed oriented this past week or so. i’ve been a walking zombie actually, but that is neither here nor there. (Boy, do I ever understand that! — Ed. Note) anyway, today on my way home from the garden with a cup of some delicious soup for lunch, i passed three girls walking the opposite direction. each about 12 years old or so sipping on strawberry mocha frappa-half-caff-with-whip-chinos. the girl in the middle announced, “I am like sooooo happy that we finally have a starbucks near us!”. the other girls like, totally agreed.
then this evening i had to get off the bus one stop early so could take a picture of it. I hadn’t yet seen it all lit up like this. wow.
is it odd that the brand new sign is already half burnt out?
To answer your question, my comrade in the war against caca, I am not the least bit surprised this sign is malfunctioning. I am certain you have heard of places that are reputed ‘hot spots’ for one kind of activity or another. For example, planes and people tend to disappear in the Bermuda Triangle and UFOs are fond of making visitations to Roswell and most of south Florida. I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone— human or otherwise— would want to go to the latter, but I digress.
As it happens, our neighborhood is also one such magical place. I call the unnatural phenomenon that exists here “The Greenpoint Effect”. “What is The Greenpoint Effect”, you ask? It is not very easy to describe so I will cite some examples of it ‘at work’.
- Any subway poster bearing an image of a person with his (or her) mouth open will eventually (via Sharpie Marker) have a penis inserted into it.
- Any person who moves here (by choice) is an eccentric. Anyone who lives here for an extended period of time will only become more so. This ‘nabe is not unlike a terrarium; it is a hermetic environment that enables the careful cultivation of crazy the likes of which makes our ‘nabes to the north (Long Island City) or the south (Williamsburg) wince. Or call the cops.
- Any attempt to buck the trend of endemic Greenpoint slack (READ: putting up a fancypants sign or building high-end housing) will eventually be despoiled by mishaps, graffiti or a pile of shit (human or otherwise).
I hope the previous explanation has been helpful.
That said, I overheard a particularly choice ‘review’ of our new Starbucks from a crew of pre-pubescent hoodie macs on the B61 bus yesterday afternoon.
Hoodie Mac #1: What the fuck is that shit!?!
Hoodie Mac #2: Starbucks NIGG-UH!
Out of the mouths of babes comes much wisdom. I am seriously considering making myself a tee shirt with “Starbuck’s NIGGA” emblazoned on it. Rendered in rhinestones, naturally. The way the world is going I’ll probably end up serving sugar-laden drinks to teeny boppers there for a whopping $8.00-$10.00 an hour.
Photo Credit: Erin, the Poo Bag Bandita