Greenpoint
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Culture on the Cheap
The Shit Crawler Strikes Back!
Some of you might remember I entered a competition last month entitled Art Ate New York. Well, the curators have curated. The judges are in the process of deciding upon a winner. But it has been determined by yours truly a long ago, win or lose, that sticking Jawas in scat is WHERE IT’S AT! My reasons for the previous assertion are numerous, but one of them is you get emails like the one I got yesterday from Artists Wanted.
Congratulations! You’ve made it to the final round for the Art Ate New York competition. Do you have higher res versions of your images? We are going to be making the final decision on the winner this week, but also want to show your images to some curators and magazine editors… Also, we’d like to show your images projected at our event (!!! —Ed. Note) scheduled for Friday, October 19th. 300 dpi 8×10 is great, but any higher res size will be good… Also, if you have a web site you use to promote yourself, send that address as well.
So there have you. Of course, what would the Shit Crawler have been without the rather sculptural pile of dog shit accompanying it? Whoever you are, inconsiderate Greenpoint dog owner, please accept this humble expression of my sincerest gratitude. I couldn’t have done it without you.
And your canine companion.
Those of you who wish to behold the glory that is the Greenpoint Shit Crawler (albeit in SoHo, not in situ) will have your chance next week:
Art Ate New York: Renegade Art Show
October 19, 7:00 p.m. – 1:00 a.m.
Red Bull Gallery
40 Thompson Street (at Broome), Manhattan
Miss Heather
Gentrification Rears Its Ugly Head at Greenpoint Bodega!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Today I walked by a former haunt of mine: the bodega on Manhattan Avenue just north of Clay Street. As a former resident of Clay Street I know this bodega well (where else are you going to buy maxi pads at ten o’clock at night?). Or do I? As I found myself wondering today.
“75 CENT” for a cup of coffee!?! OUTRAGEOUS! And to think I was once a regular patron of yours, Manhattan Avenue bodega. First it’s 10 oz. cups. Next you’ll be giving people free music with their over-priced, sugar-laden coffee products*.
You disgust me.
Miss Heather
*Like You Know Who down the street.
***Newflash: 48 Box Street***
Filed under: Area 51
They are not working at 48 Box Street today. REPEAT:
THEY ARE NOT WORKING.
Thanks to a breakthrough in modern science they don’t have to. They use special self-laying bricks instead!
Miss Heather
At Last: Someone Taking on Greenpoint Vice
This person resides at 102 Norman Avenue and he isn’t putting up with any shit.
WARNING: Smoking while feeding pigeons at this location might be hazardous to your health.
And anyone planning to do, uh, anything else: take two signs ordering you to fuck off and call me in the morning. Doctor’s orders.
Miss Heather
P.S.: On inexplicably-related note those of you who choose to walk in front of the Bank of America on Manhattan Avenue should watch where you step. Otherwise you might trip over a slab of meat. That beats the shit out of a free toaster any day— though it is not remotely as enticing as watching homeless people take a shit or fornicate in the lobby of Citibank down the street!
Greenpoint Becoming More Bicycle Friendly?
Filed under: Area 51
Anyone who lives north of India Street can attest that the city has been quite busy resurfacing the streets lately. Even lowly Freeman Street got a makeover.
Being a die hard pedestrian I might be wrong, but this looks like an attempt to make this neighborhood a little more bicycle friendly. Now if only the city would make some of the bicyclists hereabouts a little friendlier by forcing them to dismount their bikes when they cross the Pulaksi Bridge.
Miss Heather
D.O.B.: Deaf (Dumb) Or Blind
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I have yet to get a response from Patricia Lancaster regarding the packet of Greenpoint development gentrification gone wrong goodies I tendered at last week’s Greenpoint mayoral meet-up. This is understandable given the workload I gave her: four sites located in a neighborhood no one (save developers, the real estate agents who profit from them and the inconvenient renters peasants who actually live here) seems to give a shit about.
Nonetheless, I feel compelled to add this to her “to do” list: 154 West Street. These guys love them some illegal weekend construction. I have noted it here and…
HERE.
The above photo was taken on Saturday, October 6 at 5:15 p.m.
Did they have a variance to work this (or any other) weekend? If the “Job Payment History” records from the Department of Building’s own web site are any indication, the answer is NO.
As we learned from this post, after hours variances can be found in the payment history for any given property. $80.00 deposit and $100.00 payment is all it takes for the Department of Buildings to sanction a developer to operate a pile driver on a Saturday.
$180.00
That’s what the peaceful enjoyment of (y)our neighborhood is worth according to the Department of Buildings.
Angry yet? You should be.
Miss Heather
Great Moments in Greenpoint Siding, Vol XI
Although I have much more field research left to do, I wanted to assure each and every one of you that I have been quite busy touring the streets of Greenpoint in search of its sidingest block. Had I known how monumental a task this was going to be I probably would not have undertaken it. But I have, goddamn it, and I will.
One interesting finding I have made thus far is the Garden Spot’s current predilection for stucco. In fact, I will go so far as to predict that stucco will supplant siding as one of Greenpoint’s distinguishing characteristics (alongside the Belvedere Dynasty, naturally) in the not-so-far-off future. Does this bother me? Not in the least. Especially if it means we’ll be seeing more houses like this one.
I saw this house while riding the B43 bus home yesterday. I was immediately captivated. As an artist I cannot fathom why someone would put pumpkin orange and mint green stucco together. Fortunately, this was not my decision to make: clearly the owner of this house (and the wizards at Katosy Stucco) thought these two colors went together swimmingly. And I have to confess, it’s growing on me.
Great job, guys! I mean this in all sincerity.
Miss Heather
The BARC Dog Parade Cometh!
I have been so busy preparing my costume* I almost forgot to remind everyone that BARC’s Dog Parade is next weekend. Being the fashion conscious woman I am, I even procured a very special accessory for the occasion.
Nothing says “I am a Greenpointer” better than donning a Gulf War issue gas mask.
Attendees and would-be marchers can get all the details about this upcoming event by clicking here.
Miss Heather
P.S.: What would a dog parade announcement be without a piquant pile of Greenpoint poop to go with it? From Kent Avenue (just south of Pop’s) I present to you…
Puffed for your Pleasure!
*This includes fashioning breast-gear resembling digester tanks from Greenpoint’s favorite waste treatment plant. I’ll be the 17th Ward’s very own Valkyrie!
Mr. Heather the Handyman
Filed under: Area 51
I recently received an email from someone who not only heaped praise upon my person, but also that of Mr. Heather, It read as follows:
You are an incredible photographer, you’re intelligent, funny, and your cool husband likes trains!
ADOPT ME!
Mystified as to why anyone would call my husband “cool” (I can think of at least 25 reasons off the top of my head why he is not), I wrote back.
Thank you, but my husband is *NOT* cool. He is a colossal dork who works on the computer for hours on end with no clothes on.
The above reply may sound mean-spirited to some but I assure you that was not my intent. I was simply being honest. It hurts me as much to see the aforementioned activity as it hurt you, dear readers, to read about it. Probably more.
The previous having been said, Mr. Heather does have his moments. They are usually had at the most inopportune times regarding subject matter considered odd to most —but he does have them. In fact, he had one this weekend. At 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning after six hours of watching Zero Mostel movies and drinking sangria, to be precise.
Truth be told I should have gone to bed much earlier. But after being on my feet for over eight hours (and interfacing with the public in all its idiotic glory) knocking back wine and singing along to “Spring Time for Hitler” was therapeutic. It was fun, to be perfectly honest. Besides, had I not stayed up so late I would have missed Mr. Heather’s latest “special moment”.
My husband has a Rain Man type quality to him. He is the king of non-sequitors. Or at least I tell myself this when he asks me questions like the following while I am rummaging around the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning:
So how do you like your new toy?
Me: Um, it’s okay. It vibrates too much so I do not turn it on.
Mr. Heather: I could put a resistor in it. That might fix your problem.
Me (mouth hanging open): ???
My puzzled expression netted me a five minute lecture about electricity. It was all stuff I had learned in high school. Or I think I did, anyway. Twenty years later at three in the morning is not the time to quiz me on such matters.
I have given his offer much thought and I think I am going to let the mister pimp out my vibrator. The entertainment value alone is worth it. If he is successful, I may very well pimp out my husband’s services to others who are experiencing similar problems. It would not only be a public service, but it might also prove to be a nice source of supplemental income.
Living with a colossal dork is hardly sexy, but sometimes it’s damned convenient.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg’s Three Third Streets
Filed under: Williamsburg
This weekend was a 48 hour crash course in extremes. One minute I am screaming at my husband via cell phone about how Verb has the shittiest customer service on the planet (unless of course you are cool enough to deserve better— and I wasn’t). The next I discover something wonderful and completely unexpected: like what I found at the intersection of Berry and North 6 Street Saturday afternoon.
I have read that Bedford Avenue, Berry Street, Wythe Avenue, etc., were once numerically named, e.g.; Fourth Street, Third Street and Second Street respectively. This was the first time I have actually seen physical evidence of it outside of old maps. Here is a section from a map of the Village of Williamsburgh from 1850 showing the old system. I have annotated it with a few contemporary street names to make it easier to get one’s bearings.
Williamsburg once had (for example) three “3rd Streets”: 3rd Street, 3rd Street and South 3rd Street. Not unlike how the television show Newhart had Larry, Darryl and Darryl. Pretty damned confusing if you ask me. This is why I wish to give a big New York Shitty salute to the unsung hero who named Greenpoint’s northernmost streets alphabetically. I can honestly say the Garden Spot is the only place I have never gotten lost.
Miss Heather
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