Culture on the Cheap
Long Island Shitty
Perhaps it was my encounter with a subway masturbator at Queensboro Plaza (and the five hour layover at the Queens County HQ of the Transit Police needed to prosecute him)?
the crackheaded driver that plowed into me and my two buddies while crossing 46th Street (RIGHT BEFORE MY WEDDING and being told that since I didn’t go to the hospital— FOR A BRUISE ON MY ASS they wouldn’t investigate/prosecute)?
But I find the
development rampant speculation at play in Long Island City mystifying. Personal safety concerns aside, I cannot for the life of me figure out why. Quick access to Manhattan and skyline views are to be had there, but little else. For a ‘nabe that likes to market itself as being “hip” and “artistic”, it isn’t. Sure there’s P.S. 1, Silvercup Studios and a number of art galleries there, but where are the cheap digs, liquor stores, bars, and other facilitators of vice my artistic brethren crave?
Unlike Williamsburg (which had
real struggling artists in residence not too long ago), LIC appears to have made the quantum leap from being an industrial wasteland to the playground for the artsy fartsy elite. Where are the dives? Where is the quirky art supply store? Shit, where’s a fucking grocery store?
Needless to say, I was rather pleased to find the following poster at the Vernon-Jackson stop of the 7 recently.
Long Island Shitty people— they’re just like us!