Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
L Train Photos Du Jour: Home Sweet Home
From the 8th Avenue bound platform at Lorimer Street.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Photo Du Jour: King Of Art
Filed under: 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
From Green Street.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Starter: I Commodify NY
Filed under: 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
My humble blog has gotten a great deal of traction over the last year. I have garnered readers as far flung as the Philippines, Japan, Australia, Germany (I’m pretty big there), Sweden, Romania and Great Britain to name a few. But what follows is, dear readers, much closer to home (READ: from my inbox) — and yet so far away.
I am increasingly finding press releases of this variety in my inbox. Exactly who in Greenpoint can and would outlay $575 for this bracelet at Bergdorf Goodman, I do not know. As for nails shot to shit by shopping bags, I am all too familiar with them: because I fill said shopping bags. For customers.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: I Just Want My Neighborhood Back
Filed under: 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
BrooklynSerpico comments (in regards to this post):
Anyone finding themselves today saying, “I Just Want My Neighborhood Back”?
http://www.deadline.com/2010/08/mtv-greenlights-pants-drama-pilot/#more-60072
I will not lie to you, dear readers: I have had a long day. On top of the errands I had planned for today (which included dropping off a print for BARC’s upcoming fundraiser— the deadline is tomorrow, by the way) I was awakened by a very unpleasant olfactory sensation. It was not Greenpoint either. Rather, one of our cats had experienced some, um, “distress” and decided to leave it in the bathtub. This, in turn, was inspected thoroughly by one of her fellow felines. Exactly which one, I do not know. But he (she?) managed to step in it and leave poopy paw prints all over our bathroom. Diarrhea is not the way I like to start my day— at least not in my own home, anyway. But I endeavored to persevere. I even got an ice cream to cheer me up. It worked. Then I went home.
When I arrived back in Greenpoint I bought groceries. This is in and of itself not problematic.
Save, of course, when you have to dodge electrical cables, “film people”, minders and various hangers on telling you where you can and cannot walk in your own neighborhood.
Pair the previous with the fact you are carrying groceries (as I was) and it becomes quite rage inducing. This post goes out to the fine folks at MTV and the Mayor’s Office of Film, Theater and Broadcasting. I suspect I speak for a number of my fellow Greenpointers when I write that it would be greatly appreciated if the latter would cut my community a little slack. Some of us actually have to live here.
Regards,
Miss (the woman in the green dress who walked by your camera willfully and deliberately picking her nose with her middle finger) Heather
P.S.: Had I felt more up to the occasion (and had a few buddies in tow) I would have pulled my usual tactic which is shouting en masse (and very enthusiastically):
Do you need any fluffers?!?
It has been my observation nothing creeps out effete film folk more than highly agitated, sweaty 30+ something women offering such “services”.
P.S. #2: As a Greenpointer I find this (which comes courtesy of Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York) grimly amusing. That’s right folks: they recruited Williamsburgers to make Greenpoint look, well, like Williamsburg.
New York Shitty Day Starter: Danger
Filed under: 11101, 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Long Island City, Long Island City Queens, Newtown Creek
From the Pulaski Bridge.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Degentrification Watch: IMBY
Filed under: 11222, Criminal Activity, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
Last winter, dear readers, Chez Shitty got it’s first bona fide gentrifier: a young woman replete with a SUV-sized stroller and a toddler to accompany it. The residents took this (along with said stroller occupying our hallway) in good humor until our new neighbor decided things needed to change in her new abode. More specifically she decided that the smoke emanating from certain apartments was— despite the manifold number of other health hazards to be had in the Garden Spot— injurious to her young un’s health. To this end she posted an anonymous sign— in the dead of winter— admonishing everyone to open their windows when they smoked. Not only was this missive poorly received (it was ripped down before I could photograph it) but her attempt at anonymity was downright comical: all the residents on my building have lived here for at least five years. Most longer. We communicate with each other when we problems arise. We do not leave notes. Suffice it to say we knew who the note came from and got a big chuckle out of it.
Now jump forward to August 29, 2010. When I left the building this was posted on the front door.
One the one hand I would be remiss if I didn’t experience more than a little schadenfreude when I read this missive. We all leave crap in the hallway— at our own risk. I tend to leave stuff I want taken (it’s been my observation that clothing and “men’s magazines” go pretty fast). One the other, I feel a little bad about this boy’s lost guitar. Not that I am going to lose any sleep over it, mind you. Straight up: if you value your property keep it in your apartment.
Miss Heather
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