Culture on the Cheap
What To Do In Ridgewood
Yesterday the Mister and I planned to take photographs. I wanted to go to Bed-Stuy, he wanted to go somewhere “different”. In the spirit of compromise (and ever since I got married I have been nothing but compromised) I made a proposition:
Let’s go to Ridgewood and Bushwick.
And that is exactly where we went. Over eight years have elapsed since I have set foot in Ridgewood. I looked at an apartment there. It was very nice— perhaps a little too nice. $1,200 a month rent for such a beautiful and large apartment was indeed VERY tempting, but I couldn’t shake the feeling this neighborhood was simply not for me and I elected to live in Greenpoint instead.
Today, February 11, 2008, with eight plus years of experience under my belt I can tell you, dear readers, why I didn’t move to Ridgewood: it is boring. Really boring. Sure there is nifty architecture and a certain Archie Bunker-esque appeal to the place, but the endless chain stores and shitty food (How can someone fuck up a grilled cheese sandwich? If your inquiring mind wants to know, go to the diner at Seneca Avenue and Woodbine Street and find out!) left me wanting.
Thankfully I found ample entertainment at the intersection of Gates and Seneca Avenue: let’s look at the barbecued minivan!
Why not watch other people savor the sight (and toxic aroma) of this carcass of excess as well!
This must have been some conflagration.
It even blew out the window of the local check cashing establishment. Wow.