Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
A little piece of Green Street scenery…
for all you hip urban professionals out there who cannot afford Manhattan digs. Be advised that the developer’s rendering of 110 Green Street does not do justice to the scenic views your $400,000+ will buy. So in the interest of making an informed decision, I want to share a little slice of Green Street point life I spied yesterday afternoon with you.
I shit you not, this dude was asleep (passed out?) as the pile driver (seen behind the tree in the above photo) continued its aural assault on everyone who has the misfortune of living within earshot of it. Which (from what I can tell) is pretty much anywhere within a 3-4 block radius, myself included. All you homebuyers better take note, as this dude is clearly very serious about getting first whack at this great real estate opportunity.
And oh yeah, be sure to practice safe sex while you wait! 111 Green Street is already feeling the magic, how about you?
Miss Heather
P.S.: For those of you who may wonder why I have a ‘thing’ for 110 Green, read on. Just over a week ago I told my upstairs neighbor, who I will call Yessenia a (fan-fucking-tabulous) Puerto Rican woman who has resided in my building much longer than myself, about Magic’s— uh— magic. Her question was “So how are the people here going to afford it?”
To wit I said:
They can’t. This 130 unit condominium building is (per the developer) directed towards affluent young families who cannot afford to buy in Manhattan.
Which brings me to this. I knocked around this site (albeit lackadaisically) and no mention of 110 Green was to be found. I think revitalizing ‘inner cities’ and ‘under-served communities’ is a good cause. The fly in my proverbial ointment is though Greenpoint may be ‘under-served’ it is NOT ‘inner-city’— or to use the common moniker nowadays: ‘blighted’.
The crimes committed against my (otherwise very vibrant) community are countless and I doubt the culprits (READ: Exxon-Mobil, our elected officials, et. al.) will ever be held accountable. A 130 unit ‘luxury’ condominium building on Green Street is not going to change this. Much less encourage ‘diversity’. “Yessenia” put it perfectly when she told me the following Puerto Rican proverb:
The last one at the table is the first one to eat.
Earvin “Magic” Johnson’s financing ‘urban renewal’ in Greenpoint is facilitating (to bastardize Clarence Thomas) minority removal.
Bon appetit, Magic!
Greenpoint likes to throw them some D’s
Yesterday evening after meeting a buddy of mine for dinner, my husband and I decided to walk home. This seemingly insignificant decision netted me a real prize.
I found this trace of turd terrorism in the barren no man’s land between north Williamsburg and Greenpoint: Berry at N. 11th Street. Moving forward, I would like to suggest that this poster be used as the demarcation point between the two ‘hoods because throwing one’s (or someone else’s) “D’s” into another person’s face is exclusively a Greenpoint avocation. While anthropologists fret over our simian brethren’s ability to make tools, we are furiously throwing the fiercest fucking D’s on the East Coast! Long live the Devolution!
Miss Heather
P.S.: Although dung throwing is perfectly acceptable, be advised that Greenpoint has an explicit anti-fart policy, so mind your fucking manners.
Brownfinger
As I was parsing through my inbox this week I came across a compelling question from one of my commentors. Dupreciate’s email read as follows.
While we’re chattin, I was wondering if you’ve seen this short/doc series yet:
http://www.vbs.tv/shows/index.php?show=Toxic%20Brooklyn
Has less to do with dog poop and more with crude oil – interested in your take on the ordeal.
While I could have answered his question in two or three sentences, I was feeling chatty and contemplative this particular morning. As a result, “Dupreciate” got a two to three paragraph missive that eventually degenerated into a balf-baked Socialist/sociological rant to savor over his lunch hour. While far from perfect, I believe this tome merits sharing. Here it is, in all its abject glory…
Hey, I just watched episode #2 of this series and got the general gist. Although I do not make it very explicit on my blog, I am appalled by all the irresponsible development going on both in Williamsburg and Greenpoint. Although the previous sentence may sound like some vague bullshit statement, I chose my words (READ: irresponsible) very carefully, as it encompasses a variety of very troublesome issues, not just the oil spill. Here are a few of them:
Simply put, the practice of trusting the developers police themselves needs to stop. If Scarano and the number of properties damaged by shoddy construction practices (like 106 Green Street) does not attest to the need for strong government intervention, nothing does.
If these very people cannot be trusted to erect a building that is in compliance with building code and zoning laws, why the fuck should we expect them to give a damn about the environmental hazards that may or may not be present underneath them? Soil testing (as I understand it) is not mandatory. It should be. Petroleum is not the only toxin that we should be concerned about. For example, there was once a Paris Green manufacturer near McCarren Park. I do not expect you to know what “Paris Green†is, so I will tell you: it is a very toxic paint that was popular during the Victorian era. If my memory serves me correctly, arsenic is one of its by-products. Or it was cyanide? I do not remember which.
If you want to scare yourself shitless, go through the Brooklyn Daily Eagle archives and run a search on all the industrial accidents that have occurred in the north Brooklyn area. Mind you, that’s only what merited reporting. This does not include 150 years+ of surreptitious illegal dumping.
About a year ago I read an interesting book about how the slums in Detroit came into existence. Although there were a number of city-specific factors at play (like the demise of the American auto industry), there are others that I find relevant to what is going on not only in North Brooklyn, but in NYC at large. I am talking about the destruction/neglect of affordable rental property. One of the biggest mistakes Detroit made was its (over)development of properties for sale at the expense of rental property. They let the inner city decay as the ‘burbs flourished.
I strongly suspect the ‘luxury housing’ that is being built here is going to make slums flourish as well. Once you render a neighborhood prohibitively expensive to the middle class (which is the backbone of Manhattan’s workforce— and I consider any family whose yearly income is $45,000 – $100,000 as being ‘middle class’), they move further out. This completely undermines the purpose of rent-stabilization— which is largely responsible for PREVENTING New York City from becoming another Detroit. Pardon my pinko thinking, but once a city begins to neglect the core of its worker-force, a whole lotta bad is going to follow.
Speaking for myself, the properties that have been razed in my ‘nabe have facilitated crime. About ¼ of my block has ceased to exist, and the result is my having to shoo junkies from hanging out on my stoop. Magic Johnson’s condos are not going to fix this social problem. If anything, it is only going to make it worse. I find it impossible to believe that they are going to dredge up 130 families to buy into this monstrousity. So, the property (and many others like it) will probably have high vacancy rates. High vacancy rates = high crime.
All the while, the working class and elderly (who sorely need housing and add value to the neighborhood at large) are being driven out in droves. This is more than a little depressing. My husband and I often wonder if/when we’ll be next. I hope this long-winded socialist tome has given you a clear picture of my take on this subject.
H
I am neither a city planner nor an economist, but it doesn’t take a so-called expert to recognize the rapacious land speculation that is going on in north Brooklyn (or all of Brooklyn, for that matter). Not unlike the barons of industry before them, these land jobbers are squeezing our neighborhood down to the last dollar, quality of life (or inadequate infrastructure) be damned. Thus, the finger buildings will continue rise until it is no longer in the developer’s financial interest to build them.
Even Williamsburg’s canines have caught ‘finger fever’. I guess the real estate there has gotten so expensive, even the dogs have to maximize their air rights.
I found this ‘Turdhenge’ at 111 N. 4th Street. Note the mezzanine on the turd to the right. Not to be outdone, Greenpoint has also gotten high-rise hysteria. As I noticed at 200 Franklin Street yesterday.
I wonder if this ‘product’ is part of the new waterfront (re-zoning) I have heard so much about?
Miss Heather
My neighbor is hilarious
Today I was showing my mother a few blogs I like to read, including one written by my upstairs neighbor HQ. This man has the cutest fucking dog in all of Greenpoint (and perhaps in all the world): Magellan. I wanted my mother to see a photo of him.
Pretty damn cute, huh? Well, apparently under this cute exterior lies the mind of a mischievious little shit.
The above photo is a little taste of the goodness featured in this post. Do read it. It is very, very funny.
Miss Heather
Photo Credit: HQ
Doppeldung
I have been crazy busy of late. Not only do I have my Forgotten-NY post to draft, dog shit to document, kitty cats to capture and the endemic insanity that permeates my existence to moderate, but I have also had to do all the previous while entertaining a series of family members who have decided to pay our fine city, the one and only New York Shitty, a visit. Mayor Bloomberg should give me a kickback for all the tourism revenue I have generated. Seriously.
It has long been my desire to erect a shitcam so I can document the gradual deterioration of an errant piece of dog poo. Perhaps this will come to pass someday but in the meantime I have tracked the progress one pile of shit— and its ‘staying power’ is somewhat disquieting.
Exhibit A
69 Second Avenue, Manhattan
March 25, 2007
3:30 p.m.
My sister-in-law was in town from March 22, 2007 to March 26, 2007. When I found the above offering just south of St. Mark’s Place I had to point it out to her. She thought it was as funny as I was. We both bothered my husband to pick up those two pennies up for us. He refused. So I took a picture of them instead. A couple passersby thought this (a 30-something year old broad shooting a photo of a pile of crap while shouting, “Hey Sam, do you want a penny!?!“) was one of the funniest things they had ever seen. Go figure.
Now jump to…
Exhibit B
69 Second Avenue, Manhattan
April 13, 2007
5:30 p.m.
My mother, husband, cousin and I walked by the same spot…
and the poop and (one of) the pennies was still there!
Through rain, sleet or snow, New York Shitty delivers!
To summarize, this discovery has:
- given the phrase “tough shit” a whole new meaning. After almost 3 weeks of exposure to the elements it is still there. Perhaps our government should conduct research on this substance? The way I see it, after we manage to blow each other into oblivion (and apes evolve from man), the charred remains of the Statue of Liberty will not be our civilization’s legacy; it will be an petrified pile of dog shit. I can only hope that when the archeologists find this they interpret it as some kind of burial ritual. After the body is laid to rest, a pile of dog shit and two pennies are left to facilitate his (or her) soul’s journey into the bowels of the underworld. Sort of like Anna Nicole Smith.
- provided prima facie evidence that under the right conditions currency can be rendered so repulsive (READ: encrustated with SHIT) that not even a junkie or derelict will pick it up.
Miss Heather
Pissville
Last weekend I was feeling adventurous so I ventured across the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge to (gasp!) Queens. Below is a map indicating the area I checked out.
This disorienting no man’s land (nestled between the Long Island Expressway and Newton Creek) is known by several names. Some call it Long Island City, others say it is Sunnyside. I have created my own (very) off-color moniker for this ‘hood, as you will soon learn.
Anyone who has had Greenpoint History 101 will tell you that Neziah Bliss was the driving force behind my neighborhood’s development. In 1838 Mr. Bliss shelled out the dough to have the land surveyed. The result of this endeavor is the grid-work of streets that riddle Greenpoint to this day. As a consequence, the Bliss name is venerated here; he is Greenpoint nobility.
What a number of people do not realize is that Mr. Bliss was also responsible for development in adjoining Queens. This includes the area I perused yesterday. This parcel of land was once called ‘Blissville’ (in honor of its founder). After inspecting his namesake neighborhood I humbly recommend that it be rechristened “Pissville”. This is because it is friggin’ nasty.
If I had to describe Pissville in one sentence this would be this: take the worst features of Greenpoint and Long Island City and cram them into the armpit that is the Long Island Expressway. Pretty sexy, huh? Follows are some highlights from my Pissville experience… with PICTURES!
WELCOME TO PISSVILLE
When I reached the apex of the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge the first two businesses I laid eyes upon were two shuttered storefronts. One was clearly a bodega, the other was more ambiguous; it had an orange awning with the word “Circles†emblazoned on it. “That has got to be a titty bar†I mumbled to myself. When I got home later and googled the address (36-21 Review Avenue) I discovered that I was correct. (The previous link is NSFW — Ed. Note.)
I failed to take photo of this fine establishment, but suffice it to say that it looked like the kind of strip joint where the dancers probably wear control top thongs to keep wiggle and jiggle to a dull roar. If Medusa’s face could turn one’s person into stone— or if the god of the Old Testament could convert heathens into glorified saltlicks, the sight of this place is more than enough to give anyone (not wearing a hazmat suit) a raging case of herpes. Valtrex, anyone?
I FPUCKED YOUR MOTHER
After being greeted with the promise of tits and ass, I thought to myself: “This place has personality.”
And it is not a very nice one.
I do not wish to suggest that I find Pissville unlikeable. Even though Charles Bukowski is one of my favorite authors (to make metaphor), I sure as hell would not want him as a next door neighbor— if you know what I mean. But if you were to locate Mr. Bukowski (READ: Pissville) safely on the other side of Newtown Creek everything would be peachy keen. That way I can savor its unique charm (and/or some anonymous person’s boast of defiling my mother) whenever the mood suits me.
Kenny does not appear to be a very popular guy…
but “Joe” is clearly missed by many. May he rest in peace.
Amusingly enough, Pissville (as laden with garbage and foul language as it is) was strangely bereft of dog shit. That said, I did not go away empty handed.
Although it is not discernable in the above photo, the author of this signature shit used an inter-office memo as toilet paper. Perhaps it was a disgruntled worker from Kenny’s? This turd taco can be found at 51-26 34th Street.
And here is a little something I discovered across the street from this shit sandwich…
A BIGASS CONDOMINIUM BUILDING!
Let’s review:
- This ‘nabe is appointed with little more than a bodega and a titty bar.
- The sidewalks are covered with garbage.
- Someone residing here claims to have done dirty things to my mother. This dude must have the longest schlong on the east coast ‘cuz my mother resides in New Mexico. I am not sure what “pucking” is, but I bet it is something so nasty that even a crack whore charges extra for it.
- This building is not located anywhere near a subway station, and…
- under the right conditions the area probably reeks of exhaust fumes (from the L.I.E.) and the putrid stink from the waste water plant across Newton Creek.
Who do I make my check out to?
Miss Heather
Poo Bag Bandita
Today I received an email from the person responsible for installing this public poo bag dispenser. She writes:
In my defense, when I installed all the signs (03/27/07), the location of the particular sign in question only had one bike tied to it. And a cinder block slightly pushed to the side. Perhaps I should move it up the block just a tad. The other locations of the signs are at 155 Freeman St, 118 Freeman St and one at the south corner of Eagle St and Manhattan Ave. Unfortunately, the Eagle St sign had been removed sometime this week.
The one at 118 Freeman St is actually needs a new roll of bags. I guess one can only hope the bags have been used appropriately. I also vow to hold up my crusade against the shit as long as the need is there and I am financially able.
…oh yeah and I would like to share one of my favorite little gems that I have collected… I like to call it shit ‘n’ Tanqueray. Found it at the northeast corner of Franklin St And Green St about a week ago.
I wonder if this is how Tony Sinclair takes his Tanqueray?
Thanks again for the choice turdage, Poo Bag Bandita!
Miss Heather
PLEASE DEMOLISH THIS HOUSE!
These are desperate times for us Greenpointers. On the one hand, you have cool old buildings getting razed to build yet more unwanted ‘luxury housing’; on the other, you have this SHITHOLE which, in my opinion, cannot get torn down soon enough.
Anyone who has lived on this block for any appreciable period of time will tell you about the former residents of this building, 151 Green Street: a perpetually drunk old woman and her son. Although I found her practice of chaining her wheelchair(s) to the fence to prevent theft darkly amusing, the same cannot be said about the frequent visits made by EMS to collect her drunken ass. I wasn’t too big on her son’s proclivity for passing out on their stoop either. Charming.
The more observant of you (readers) will notice that there are several permits posted in the window of this property. One of them sanctions the demolition of this house. To the best of my recollection these were put up about a month ago, maybe a little longer. I remember quietly rejoicing when I got the news and have been eagerly waiting for the big day to come.
I am still waiting. In the meantime, a new (and equally dysfunctional) ‘family unit’ seems to have moved in: a trio of junkies. They have taken to lounging around on the sidewalk and passing GARGANTUAN BOWEL MOVEMENTS wherever the mood suits them. Like the one I found in front of my apartment building this morning.
They also left their ‘calling card’ on my stoop.
This has got to stop. I do not think it is either an unreasonable or a presumptuous demand to be able to exit one’s building without stepping in someone’s barf. Seriously folks, it’s fucking nasty.
Miss Heather
The Blarney Choad
Not satisfied with a mere six surveillance cameras, Magic Johnson and his crew have seen fit to add a few more.
I’m not too sure what purpose these cameras serve (aside from perhaps pissing people off— and in this regard they are working like a charm), but if they are being used as a dog shit deterrent, IT ISN’T WORKING.
Top of the mornin’ to ya Mr. Johnson!
I found this a yard away from these festive feces. Looks like the St. Paddy’s celebration is finally winding down at 106 Green Street. Sixteen days of partying: even for here that has got to set some sort of record…
Miss Heather
219 Montrose Avenue
Now that spring has arrived I have to be more careful when exiting my apartment building. This is because the usual suspects (hipsters, bums and junkies— I can no longer tell the difference) have resumed hanging out on my stoop. It takes every iota of restraint I have not to swing the hideous metal door that graces my building full force and squash these creatures like flies. If you do not shell out the ridiculous amount of money (my husband and I do in order) to live here, don’t hang out here . Simple as that.
When I was helping some friends move their cats this weekend I noticed that the fine folks who reside at 219 Montrose Avenue feel the same way about loiterers as I do. They made a nice sign to make their stance on this issue crystal fucking clear.
I for one like the juxtaposition of the plywood sign against the brand-spanking new vinyl siding. I think I will print out a nice copy of this sign, have it laminated and place it on our front door. It looks like it works.
Miss Heather
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