East Williamsburg Photos Du Jour: Notary Public

From Moore Street.

Miss Heather

Bushwick Carbeque Watch: Homie Don’t Play That

September 8, 2010 ·
Filed under: 11206, Bushwick, Bushwick Brooklyn, Carbecque, Criminal Activity

Today, as many of you know, did not start on a very auspicious note for yours truly. Instead of letting a little black grime set the tone for my day I looked at it this way:

It can only get better from here.

And that, it did. After doing a little cursory cleaning I met up with a very talented photographer (and fellow Greenpointer!): Noah Devereaux. We proceeded to walk from Greenpoint to Broadway Junction. It took us the better part of four hours to do this— but do it we did! We saw a lot of interesting stuff and met some very interesting people along the way. It was on Ellery Street that we stumbled upon the following: a carbeque.

There’s a lot more going on here than initially meets the eye, as you will see!

Here are a couple of shots of the front.

The interior proved to be a treasure trove of interesting items including— but not limited to:

An umbrella

An empty pack of ciggies and bottle of soda

And a lease

But the real object of interest (and what makes this carbeque truly special in my humble opinion) resides in the trunk:

Clown paraphernalia.

If this car could talk I am certain it would have quite the interesting tale to tell.

But for now we’ll have to be content with the mystery. I guess this is how they roll in Bushwick.

Miss Heather

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From The New York Shitty Photo Pool: Over Here

September 8, 2010 ·
Filed under: 11222, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic

This vision hails from Green Street and comes courtesy of autovac. On that note, dear readers, I will be leaving you for a bit. Yours truly has had a very lively morning. One which started about two hours before she would have liked with the Mister informing her that the bath tub was backed up. I surveyed the scene and sure enough it was— with some kind of black crud. It looked like English Kills blew chunks. But I digress.

I would like to take a minute to tender my sincerest gratitude to our super, Michael, for remedying this problem. The task before him required variety of (and in one case, improvised) tools and a LOT of good ol’ fashioned elbow grease. Methinks I heard him utter the word “shit” no less than three times. He also called our drain a “bitch” in Polish*. I have to confess I had to suppress a chuckle at that one— but it seemed work: shortly thereafter the drain gave up the “goods”. If you can call such stuff that. Thanks again, Michael. Now if you don’t mind I am off to purchase some Ajax. I can assure you it is sorely needed.

Miss Heather

*Over the years yours truly has, albeit very slowly, learned a little Polish. Currently my vocabulary is limited to the following:

Good morning
I do not speak Polish.
Bitch

Obviously I have a ways to go. Perhaps this will be my project for the remainder of the year? I would really like to thank Michael in his mater lingua. When I exclaimed “Hallelujah” at the sight of that muck going down the drain (where it belongs) he replied “63”. After a little more dialoging I deduced that he thought I was asking him how old he is. Failure. To. Communicate.

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