Filed under: Williamsburg
This Saturday, August 23, the Williamsburg Church will be conducting blood drive from 10:00 a.m. – 3:00 p.m. on or near Jackson Street (between Humboldt and Graham Avenue or Graham Avenue at Jackson Street, it has not been decided). Those of you who are interested in donating blood should hop on the B43 or take the L train to Graham Avenue, head towards Skillman and “look for the New York Blood Services bus”. I have been assured they will use more conventional methods of drawing blood than the one depicted in this post.
Filed under: Williamsburg
From South 5th Street.
Filed under: Asshole, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Long Island City, Other Shit, Queens, Williamsburg
I learned a funny thing yesterday. A “friend” will invite you on a boat ride of Newtown Creek. He will later even laud the photographs and the footage you shot. That is, until some person at Channel 13 (who hired said boat and seems to think all the intellectual/creative property gathered from it is his) raises a stink:
Iâ€™m glad you enjoyed the trip on Newtown Creek the other day. Iâ€™m not sure if we officially met but I know you talked to my associate Daniel. Iâ€™m writing because I was checking out your blog and I noticed youâ€™d posted several videos of the trip. I donâ€™t mean to be any sort of stickler but it makes me a little uncomfortable to have other people reporting on the same thing which I hired a boat to capture. I donâ€™t have any problem with you posting photos or stories about the trip but the video just happens to be exactly why we were there and sort of crosses lines of exclusivity. So, let me profusely apologize for having to ask but I would really appreciate it if you would take the videos down.
So, my other question would be how you knew about the trip. I didnâ€™t have any problem with people coming out with us as long as they were out of the way but no one told me we should be expecting guests so I donâ€™t really know how that came about.
Anyway, sorry again. If youâ€™d like to chat about it, feel free to give me a call or email back.
I’m not a chatty kind of gal. Just ask my parents. I rarely answer the phone, much less pick it up and call some condescending chap who wants to “chat” about why my seven minutes of film footage does not undermine his “vision”.
Dear old dad taught me a few things about anger management, albeit accidentally. One of them was I can channel anger in a constructive manner whose effect, in turn, is actually quite the opposite: destructive. Call what I am about to do passive/aggressive or one of life’s little ethical loopholes and/or gray areas. Call it whatever you want. Sure, I yanked the “video” showcasing said “exclusive material” —and I replaced it with another one. This. Now I am bringing back the original.
Pa Heather, this one goes out to you. You know better than anyone that no one can make me shut up.
P.S.: I’m not taking this one down. If the peeps at Channel 13 have some special interest in publicly humiliating my husband (or training him to recycle correctly) I want a piece of the action. Simple as that.
I strongly suspect this will become a regular feature on New York Shitty. “This” being my predilection for picking up weird crap off the street and taking it home. That said, here’s urban artifact #1:
Someone is going to live.
With a little help from 100 disposable vinyl gloves.
Filed under: Williamsburg
From Kent Avenue.
P.S.: If you want to see some real live kitties behaving badly click here to check out Bindi and Bento. Their hijinks are certain to make you laugh.
Filed under: Area 51
and if grim reaper doesn’t finish the job, the stench from the port-o-let (located across the street) most assuredly will. This tome sort of reminds me of Allan Ginsberg’s Howl.
UPDATE: Per the folks over at Daily Intel this quote is from St. Theresa of Avila. She must have been a pretty interesting (if seriously repressed) lady. She was even purported to levitate on more than one occasion. Sound familiar?
One thing a lot of people do not seem to know is Newtown Creek once had a number of islands. What you are seeing in the above photograph is the vestige of one of them: Furman Island. It is now a part of Queens, but if one looks through the online archives of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle (as I have) one will quickly discern it was a vibrant part of this largely industrial (and very aromatic) waterway.
Did you know that Furman Island even helped to prevent a malaria outbreak?!? I didn’t until I read an article from the August 2, 1894 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle entitled Calls It Cologne Gulch: Vivid Portrayal Of The Evils Along Newtown Creek. In this piece an intrepid reporter from none other than Harper’s Weekly goes to Newtown Creek to get the scoop on the poop from a local. Here is an excerpt:
Those of you who have the time really should read this lengthy (4000+ words) article in its entirety. My favorite part is about the “egg factory”. What was the egg factory, you ask? Click here and read for yourself! Be advised you may not want to do so over lunch…
My modest proposal for a little pubic public art in McCarren Park has proven to be surprisingly popular. I don’t know why. I suppose people are into that sort of thing. More importantly I enjoyed doing it— so I have decided to do a series of public art project proposals for New York Shitty. Today’s target: Long Island City.
This is the Pepsi Cola sign which graces Long Island City’s waterfront. It has been moved because it was interfering with development. More accurately, it blocked the “view” the pampered peeps who are buying into the Long Island City lifestyle so desperately desire. Good for them.
This is Gantry Park. Note the lack of people. Sort of strange for an unseasonably cool Sunday afternoon in August. Maybe piers, plant life and Pepsi signs do not appeal to the Long Island City demographic? What will it take to entice Long Island Cityslickers to enjoy the waterfront parks my neighborhood so sorely lacks? I know: ART! But from whom?
Paul McCarthy! Who else?!?
What’s more my proposal* has an additional benefit: it gives Manhattan an eyeful as well!
*This is parody. If you live in Long Island City and are angered by the thought of an inflatable sow blocking your view of Manhattan, think about this: at least you get to look at her face.
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From the Queens-bound platform of the G at Greenpoint Avenue.
I have a confession to make: I’m a bit grumpy today. Those of you who have sent me emails and have not gotten a reply, it’s nothing personal. I am simply not in the mood to talk to anyone.
The reasons I am cantankerous are triple fold:
- Despite my hyper-vigilant slathering of 35 SPF sunblock, I missed a spot yesterday and got burned. It’s a small area mind you, but it is located in an irritating as hell location: the back of my neck.
- I cleaned out the refrigerator today. Disgusting as usual.
- I beheld the following in the bathroom while executing point #2.
The Mister and I have gotten into some interesting arguments discussions about his habit of throwing plastic bottles into the bathroom trash can. Here’s an excerpt from one such dialog from last weekend.
Miss Heather: Man, do not throw the (excised)ing plastic bottles away in the bathroom garbage can!
Mr. Heather: I didn’t throw them away.
Miss Heather: ?
Mr. Heather: I placed them there until we bag the recycling.
There are a couple faults with the logic Mr. Heather chose to employ, but I will leave the more apparent one for you to mull over. Rather, I would like to deconstruct the following sentence to illustrate the other:
I put them there until we YOU bag up the recycling.
I will readily admit I am not the most tidy person in the world— but I am not the filthiest either. For this reason I do not like picking through a basket teeming with dirty Q-tips and the usual niceties to be found IN A BATHROOM GARBAGE CAN to place plastic bottles in the recycling bag. A bag, I will remind you, that is only LOCATED FOUR FEET AWAY.
Such a task adds fuel to my ire. Especially when bending over makes the top I am wearing rub against my sunburn, creating a sensation not unlike someone using 24 grit sandpaper on my person. Very unpleasant indeed!
The way I see it I can either deprogram my husband of this habit, wear a Hazmat suit every time I go outdoors or wage war against global warming. The first is futile and the second is impractical so I will direct my attention to the latter most.
This is Long Island City. Note the numerous condominiums and the fleet of Fresh Direct trucks which (undoubtedly) service their culinary needs. I made a rather interesting discovery yesterday during my trip up shit creek. One which I would like to share with you here.
I have never patronized Fresh Direct nor do I ever intend to. After learning about their labor practices last year there is no way in hell I am giving this business any of my hard-earned money. What is wrong with simply buying groceries from a grocery store or a produce stand like a normal person? It’s probably better for the environment.