Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Crosstown Local Cavalcade Volume IX: High Society
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
A stroll around the Nassau Avenue Stop of the G has yet to disappoint yours truly. My latest sojourn there was no exception. In fact, if you happen to be a Frank Sinatra fan, I have very good news.
There’s a rather sizable cache of his films to be had on the Smith-9th bound platform. Maybe this person finally converted his (or her collection) over to DVD? I cannot profess of being a big fan of good ol’ Blue Eyes. But that’s okay, there is still ample entertainment to be had for your $2.00 fare.
You can sell your soul.
While I’m on the subject of bloodsuckers, if you are so inclined please drink responsibly.
For only $3.00 more you can get a super-sized side order of cancer to go.
Above all, while you’re patronizing the Crosstown Local be sure to observe proper subway safety. Accidents can or will happen if you don’t.
Please keep your barn door closed gents.
Miss Heather
Pay Phone Pop Quiz
Question: Other than reading the signs how can you tell the following pay phone is not located in Greenpoint?
The answer should be obvious to any Greenpointer worth his salt: if it was someone would be rummaging through the bag dangling from the receiver. After checking the change slot for any errant quarters, naturally.
Miss Heather
48 Box Street Keeps On Trucking
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Despite a Stop Work Order* and expired permits 48 Box Street is coming along quite nicely.
February 2008
January 2008
October 2007
Yeah, the Department of Buildings is totally on top of this situation.
October 2007
That Stop Work Order really did the trick. Seriously.
August 2007
Unfortunately the folks at 48 Box Street do not take the Department of Buildings. Seriously.
Way to go Ms. Lancaster! I hope you will see fit to feature this shit heap of intransigence (yours and theirs) on your curricula vitae.
Hugs,
Miss Heather
P.S.: Check out the open ECB violations for this site, they’re a hoot!
*Issued April 7, 2007.
Go Go Greenpoint!
As I was coming home from doing a little grocery shopping this morning I picked up a copy of the Greenpoint Courier. Boy, am I glad I did. Not only did our former porter make it to the paper, but he got top billing to boot!
In the crime blotter, that is. Current and soon-to-be Green Street residents (you hear me out there, 110 Green?) will be pleased to know that Mr. Castano (presumably sans the aforementioned alleged “metal object”) is out of the hoosegow and has resumed loitering at the above-mentioned intersection.
It just goes to show that Greenpoint is indeed gentrifying at an alarming rate: just a few years ago we could only afford to punch people with empty fists.
Miss Heather
P.S.: A New York Shitty reader and commenter, Donjii, just brought this gem from Metro New York to my attention.
Burning incense was singeing the bedsheets, he said. “There was feces all over him, and he started fighting me”
You can always count on the good ol’ Greenpoint Hotel to keep it real in the Garden Spot!
Booklyn
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I recently made the acquaintance of a very nice woman named Rebecca who works for this organization. I have long wanted to learn what Booklyn was about. After voicing my interest via email she was more than happy to indulge my curiosity by taking me on a little tour. My conclusion: this place is pretty damned neat. Follows are some highlights.
Booklyn is an artist-run non-profit organization. Established in 1999, it facilities are open to the public Tuesday evenings from 6:30 – 8:30 p.m. The first Tuesday of each month is dedicated to “Open Salon Night”. At these events they feature artist’s books from their rather extensive and quirky collection (like this frightfully clever pop-up book entitled The Slapdown). In addition you, the public, are encouraged to bring in your own artists books to share with fellow Booklyn goers.
Following Tuesdays are dedicated to workshops where you can get hands on experience with the various aspects of bookmaking. Those engaged in their own bookmaking projects can also use their guillotine (above at left) and their bookbinding equipment free of charge.
Among Booklyn’s numerous projects (which include not only bookmaking, but also letter press and printmaking) is the Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) People’s Republic of Paper. Partnering with former servicemen (and presumably, women) uniforms are shredded into pulp which in turn is turned into paper. Onto this paper each troop’s portrait is then screen printed. One of these portraits can be seen above to the far left.
They also have a number of really cool books for sale. Scream at the Librarian (above) was by far my favorite:
An instant cult classic, Scream at the Librarian sucks you into the flop house grime of downtown Los Angeles at a time when it was abandoned by all but the terminally desperate. The Screamer, Mr. Brain Damage, The Devil . . . these are just a few of the unforgettable characters that people Rane’s real-life accounts from deep within the stacks of a library which had become a refuge for squatters, drug addicts, and the mentally deranged.
Be advised that you need not be a librarian to appreciate this book. Anyone who has the pleasure of working with the general public will be able to relate. I for one found “The Racist” and “Tourette’s Syndrome” of particular interest. I had honestly not given the matter any thought, but I now understand that a chap with Tourette’s Syndrome may very well be a librarian’s worst nightmare. Why not swing by Booklyn tonight, purchase a copy and read for yourself?
Booklyn
37 Greenpoint Avenue, Floor 4
Brooklyn, New York 11222
(718) 383-9621
staff (at) booklyn (dot) org
Oh yeah, they also have nifty t-shirts for sale.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Photo du Jour: When It Rains We Pour
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
One of these days I am finally going to get around to building a time capsule. The contents of this vessel will be things quintessentially Greenpoint. The purpose of this exercise is to preserve the glory that is the Garden Spot of the Universe before it is rendered utterly soulless (like its more popular sister to the south).
That said, it simply doesn’t get much more Greenpoint than a busted up umbrella filled with empty wine bottles and jarred herring propped against a parking meter on a late Sunday morning. Yes sir, this must have been one hell of a party.
Miss Heather
Crosstown Local Cavalcade Volume VIII: Penance
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Before what we know as prisons came into being the United States penal system was comprised of penitentiaries. The prevailing principle underlying the concept of the penitentiary was to place convicts in an environment that was conducive to contemplation. Being reasonable folks (and the operative here is reason), these ne’er do wells would eventually understand the error of their ways and become model citizens ready for reintegration into decent society.
I mention the previous because I too am a penitent. But instead bars my place of contemplate runs sporadically on four measly cars. Yes, I am talking about the G train. After all, how else can one while away so much time without touching upon a little existentialist angst? Seriously?
Which brings me to this poster for Philosophy Works.
As is the case with advertisements hawking philosophy, it asks a lot questions. Little did its creator know that we G train patrons have already found the answers.
Waiting for the mighty Crosstown Local to work its way through the bowels of Brooklyn and Queens predisposes us to reassess our lifestyle choices.
Sometimes we even feel a little guilty about some of them.
But not for very long.
Miss Heather
The Snowmen of North Brooklyn
I had so much fun compiling this selection of Greenpoint snowmen I thought it would be fun to showcase some more fluffy fellas from different neighborhoods. Here we go!
Representing Greenpoint we have this cute little guy from McCarren Park.
I have no idea whatsoever what this is, but it too is from McCarren Park and I felt it was worth mentioning.
This curiously long fellow was kicking it in Bushwick.
If you happened to be walking down Marcy Avenue in Bedford Stuyvesant the odds are pretty good that your found this cheerful chap smiling at you. Speaking of the Stuy…
nothing says stone cold cool like a smoking snowman. I certainly hope he is considerate enough to dispose of his butts (or reefer leaves) responsibly.
Miss Heather
Easter Stuffed Animal Drive
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I learned about this while knocking around Manhattan Avenue Sunday afternoon. While I wasn’t aware that the Church of the Ascension’s Easter Stuffed Animal Drive had such a lengthy history, it’s not at all difficult to understand why: it is a terrific idea. Those of you wanting more information can contact Priscilla or Edith at the phone number indicated on the above flier. Inquiries can also be made in person or via email at:
Greenpoint Church of the Ascension
121 Java Street
Brooklyn, New York 11222
ascensionbrooklyn (at) gmail (dot) com
Why not give a child a much-needed reason to smile this Easter and donate a stuffed animal (or two) today?
Miss Heather
The D Word
(or Miss Heather’s Musings About The Art of the Insult)
Douche (doosh) n. (Fr. shower) 1. a. A stream of water or air applied to a bodily part or cavity for cleansing or medicinal purposes. 1. b. The application of a douche. 2. An instrument for applying a douche.
Bag (bag) n. 1. a. A usu. flexible container… *
Douche Bag (doosh bag) n. 1. A flexible container used to irrigate a woman’s vagina. 2. The insult of choice for the unimaginative.**
I recently confided my newfound hatred for this (oft employed by New York Shitty’s blogorati) epithet to a friend of mine. We despised this phrase, upon this we agreed. But the reasons for our respective distastes differed significantly. In his case, it was a matter of taste and decency. Unfettered by such concerns (after all this blog, New York Shitty, was founded on shit. Literally.) the issue (as far as my curiously eccentric world view is concerned) was one of creativity.
Sure, there was a time I invoked “douche bag”. Frequently. But once it became overused (and therefore rendered meaningless) I employed the extensive education my father provided me to come up with a replacement. Or more accurately (given Pa Heather’s predilection/gift for profanity) replacements.
- Cock sucker
- Dick head
- Fuggin’ asshole
- Homeless Boogeyman/men (courtesy of the Parks Department)
- Pig fucker (my current favorite)
All the previous are staples in my anger arsenal. When under duress the offal that finds its way out of my mouth is much more colorful. Which brings me to the point of this post: can we exercise a little more imagination when it comes to putting down our fellow men (or women) online? Please? It’s not that hard. Follows are a few insults to get your creative juices going folks.
Exhibit A: Woodbine Street, Bushwick
Calling someone “gay” is not a well constructed insult but the lack of personal hygiene angle is compelling. The essential underpinning of a good insult is to point out an aspect of your adversary that is socially undesirable. Homosexuality does not (and should not) have the stigmatizing sting it used to. New York City is the great melting pot. And in this crucible of cultures, creeds, religions, races and yes, sexual orientations, there is one thing we all have in common: noses. People who do not shower, well, STINK.
Exhibit B: Woodbine Street, Bushwick
Elijah (and his dear mother) are clearly objects of wrath on Woodbine Street.
Exhibit C: Bedford Stuyvesant
Why bother blathering about incest? Sucking pig balls is much more provocative.
Still not convinced, douche bag devotees, that your affront of choice is yesterday’s news? Maybe the following anecdote will change your ways.
This is Hana Food Deli and Grocery. It is located at 534 Metropolitan Avenue, Williamsburg. 11211. I happened to be in the area (and very hungry) so I went inside in seek of kibble.
I always preferred my douche bag on the rocks. Shaken, not stirred. Just like James Bond. A douche bag with blue cheese dressing?!? That’s just plain gross.
But I suppose a douche bag tastes pretty damned good washed down with Pabst Blue Ribbon. $7.99 a twelve pack who can argue with that?
Miss Heather
P.S.: I ordered the “Sandy-wich” which was (simply put) a vegan BLT. It wasn’t bad. That said, these guys have NOTHING on the Franklin Corner Store in good ol’ Greenpoint. Andre, his son, partners and Oreo know how to make a sandwich.
*Websters II New Riverside University University Dictionary, 1984
**Miss Heather
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