Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Interesting Consumer Item Part I: Grand Street
Filed under: Williamsburg
Some of you might have noticed the blogging here has been sparse and erratic of late. There are several reasons for this:
A. This “on-again-off-again” love affair April is having with winter is wreaking havoc on my person.
B. Sometimes I need a break:
- from the “Brooklyn blogosphere”
- from bloggers in general (nothing personal)
- from my own blogging so as to…
- enjoy my life by indulging my own artistic inclinations and
- savoring the work of others.
Which brings me to this…
in my “downtime” I devoured this book.* It is (and on occasion all at once) poignant, smutty and very funny. I recommend it highly. It also had a wonderful passage which I will endeavor to paraphrase here:
The way to get a man is to be perfect until you can reveal yourself for being big asshole you really are.
Jen’s probably right. But I never mastered Duplicity 101. It was not out lack of ability or training. I learned feminine wiles from the best: my tiny and insanely cute southern grandmother (who was, in fact, one of the most terrifying women I have ever met). Rather, it was my sense of honesty, abject laziness and most importantly feminism that did me in. After spending 30 years of dealing with assholes less intelligent, creative, and charismatic than myself I wanted to break the (gl)ass ceiling:
Dicks be damned…
I said to myself.
I am going to be the biggest asshole I can be!
This exercise in self-realization did wonders for my self-esteem. The same cannot be said for my dating life. Honesty is something New Yorkers (and Americans in general)Â find disquieting— what’s more, they don’t want it. In the metaphorical dating pool that is New York City I was a Baby Ruth bar mistaken for a turd.
Thankfully I met my Carl. His name is Mister Heather. When I told him about a special art project I was cooking up Thursday night he took interest. What’s more, we argued about how to do it. After acquiring the most crucial components Friday I needed we still needed one vital component to pull it all together.
We’re going to Grand Street.
I said. And they did. Have what we we looking for. Along with this:
Too bad “FuXing” doesn’t make feminine hygiene products. I’d love nothing more than to shout at my husband in my, most delicate, female time of need:
GET ME SOME FUXING PADS!
Oh, wait. I do that already.
Miss Heather
*Jen will be part of a panel discussion today starting at 2:00 p.m.:
NY Center for Independent Publishing
NY Round Table Writers’ Conference
20 West 44th Street
New York, New York 10036
To Whom It May Concern On Green Street
Filed under: 11222, Asshole, Criminal Activity, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
If you are the owner of this Honda.
And are wondering why your roof is crushed in.
It’s because the following two fucked-up hipsters decided to make out on your motor vehicle. It must have been a magical moment (or they simply hate imported cars) because our love birds also elected to jump up and down on it as well.
Repeatedly.
At 4:00 this morning.
Miss Heather
From The New York Shitty Photo Pool: Dreamcatcher
This delightful flight of fancy hails from Ainslie Street and comes courtesy of Mugsniffer who writes:
An industrialized dreamcatcher in Williamsburg.
A brave new dreamcatcher for a brave new world. Great shot!
Miss Heather
TODAY: Kites!
If you have been told to “go fly a kite” recently or simply feel inclined to do so of your own volition (and have a LOT of fun) head down to McCarren Park today! The festivities kick off at noon.
Williamsburg Kite Festival
McCarren Park
Brooklyn, New York 11222
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: Sunset
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From Quay Street.
Miss Heather
Attention All Urban Photographers & Street Art Enthusiasts
If you happen to be on River Street do not take a picture of this.
And sure as hell don’t shutterbug this.
Why, you ask? Because if you do it might result in you (and your husband) being questioned by New York’s Finest as to what you are doing. This is what happened to the Mister and I this evening.
Hello there, we see you’re taking photographs— why?
Miss Heather: I think the shadows and diagonals are visually pleasing.
We saw you take photographs of graffiti back there.
Miss Heather: Yeah, someone spray-painted the word “meat” on the wall and I found it interesting.
Because it’s sort of “beefy”?
Miss Heather: Exactly. I happen to be a vegetarian.
Seeing where this conversation was headed (nowhere good— and soon) the Mister jumped in and after some more “dialoging”, they left us to go about our business. Inasmuch as interfacing with the NYPD can be amicable it was: tense, but polite. Still the experience left me wondering:
Why?
Perhaps these chaps have been instructed to watch photographers— especially those who happen to document “graffiti”? The only logic at work here I can think of is the presumption that when people (such as myself) document this stuff it is going to somehow encourage the people responsible for it to continue their nefarious work (and, in so doing, lower everyone’s “quality of life”). I suppose this is possible. BUT…
it’s been my experience that derelict buildings (of which north Brooklyn has many— such as the one above example which is located around the corner) do more than their fair share of lowering my quality of life.
Nice, eh?
The above can be found on the front door of this Kent Street deadiface. Call me subversive, but I don’t really see how this could possibly be construed as making this building an eyesore. It has achieved that very readily on its own. Rather smashingly, I will add. One piece of street art graffiti isn’t going to make any difference; if anything the above bit of mischief adds some sorely needed “value” to this turd. It certainly makes me smile, anyway.
Speaking of which, a building doesn’t have to be old and decrepit to elicit social commentary, oh, I mean graffiti.
CASE IN POINT: Northside Piers.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Photos Du Jour: McGuinness Boulevard
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Taken April 22, 2009.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photos Du Jour: Strangelove Special
Filed under: Williamsburg
The mere act of making reference to this Kubrick film has probably dated myself. Or divulged a measure cultural literacy and nuclear anxiety my 20-something friends are blissfully ignorant of. I have long since ceased to care. Every time I’ve dated myself I have come away from the experience more self-assured than before:
- no small talk
- no “stroking” egos
- no quibbling over bar tabs— or going Dutch
- the only asshole I woke up to in the morning was my own
But I digress…
Those of you who want to experience old-school nuclear war angst should go to the intersection of Meeker and Union Avenue.
Bombs aweigh!
Le Jolie is in the “event horizon’!
Until we meet again!
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: The S & J Supply Marketing Strategy
When it comes to advertising the marketing wizards in our fair city seem to think bigger (and louder) is better. I could not disagree more. I have been deluged with enough jumbotrons advertising anything from booze to Hollywood’s latest craptastic opus to build up a certain level of resistance. Not unlike smallpox. If anyone in the advertising profession is reading this please take note:
- Going “bigger” in my mindset only shows a woeful lack of imagination on your part.
- Going “bigger” only makes me take note NOT to purchase the product you are shilling.
- Simply put, getting “in my face” only pisses me off.
- But a hand-written note on a humble piece of office paper asks me to get my face into something the ploy works smashingly.
CASE IN POINT: S & J Supply/Show Room on Union Avenue, Brooklyn 11211
As you can see there is no clear-cut indication as to what kind of wares this business is hawking.
But when confronted with marketing genius like the above I want to find out! Is this not the purpose of advertising? To pique a person’s curiosity?
Fuck Home Depot or Ace Hardware and their over-paid spin doctors! The next time I need a circular sander or the odd drill bit I’m going to S & J.
End.
Of.
Story.
Miss Heather
NYS Flickr Pool
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