Another Bar Cometh To Greenpoint

I have often wondered (as many of you probably have) what is going on at this space at 113 Franklin Street. Well, thanks to a tipster now I know. It is slated to be a bar called (get this) The Production Lounge. It will apparently be a “theme” establishment and will sport director’s chairs for seating. This will make six bars on Franklin Street, lest any of you are keeping count.

Miss Heather

Greenpoint Photo du Jour: Devil On Dupont

From (where else?) Dupont Street.

Miss Heather

Awareness Raising On Manhattan Avenue

I knew something was up when a group of cherubic-faced group of teens entered the junk shop and asked me if they could put up fliers. I asked what the fliers were for. “They’re regarding the Greenpoint Oil Spill” they said. Then they proceeded to ask if I knew anything about it. To wit I said “yes” on both counts, e.g.; yes, they can put up fliers and yes, I knew about the oil spill. And in true “old fuck” fashion I proceeded to tell them about my lovely cruise down Newtown Creek last fall. They humored me.

After I got off work I noticed these kids have been very busy indeed! This chalk drawing hails from the corner of Manhattan Avenue and Green Street.

This one (my personal favorite) is located just across the street.

This one can be found just down the block to the north.

And this one hails a couple blocks to the south. Curious to know more about who (or what) was behind this latest awareness raising campaign I chased down this group of teens and asked them.

Apparently they are part of a special one semester (junior?) high school program. The school is located in Westchester county, but the students hail from all over the United States.

In addition to posting fliers and doing sidewalk drawings they were distributing these nifty homemade fliers.

Which feature a handy map of the oil spill on the back! They asked me if I wanted one. I said no thanks because “I have enough shit at home already”. They thought this was very funny. One even noted that it sounded like something her mother would say. I will refrain from commenting on that.

They eventually turned the table and asked me about what I knew about the oil spill. I gave them my two cents and was very relieved to learn my answer passed their muster. They, in turn, told me what they knew about oil spills, brown fields and the like.

They told me nothing I didn’t know already (mostly via the Gowanus Lounge and Newtown Creehave to admit I was impressed.

Come to think of it, they imparted to me one piece of information that was both disturbing and very telling: most of the people they had spoken with had no idea such an oil spill existed.

Miss Heather

Greenpoint To Get More Fingers?

Earlier this week I received the following email from Lisacat. She writes:

I just heard this from my landlord who heard it from Millie the crossing guard who heard it at mass this morning. The convent, brothers house on the corner of N. Henry and the caretaker’s house on Richardson are all uninhabited now. I sure hope diocese isn’t going to sell-out to developers… such great old buildings.

This is one of the previously mentioned properties: the Brothers’ House. It can be found at the corner of North Henry and Richardson Street. If (or more likely, WHEN) this building is razed to construct some over-sized and completely out of context piece of garbage, what do you think the finished product will look like?

Will they retain the facade and build a finger behind it like Karl Fischer did with the Luminous?

Will it be razed to build a(nother) Fedders Special like this…

or this on Monitor Street?

Or will they go all fancy on us and employ a two-tone brick scheme like this beauty on Meeker?

Nice balconies.

In any case, I think I can assert one thing for certain. By the time all the (over) development dies down Greenpoint will probably have enough fingers to make a fist!

Miss Heather

Spreadin’ The Love: Greenpoint Style

I happened upon this missive (which is scrawled on the side of a warehouse in Williamsburg) while walking home from what was, in my humble opinion, THE BEST FRANK SINATRA BLOCK PARTY KNOWN TO MANKIND. Spreading the love.

While not as “touchy feely” as our friends to the south, Greenpoint does indeed sport its own special brand of “love”. And like so much sewage discharged into Newtown Creek on a rainy day, Greenpoint’s cup of love for our fellow man overflowth. Usually with a little assistance from paint pen or can of spray paint.

Who do we Greenpointers love, you ask? Damned near everyone. With a few notable exceptions of course.

Huron Street

We don’t love the police, for starters.

Newel Street

That goes double if they happen to hail from Queens. We really don’t like them.

Diamond Street

“Polocks”? Don’t like ’em.

Russell Street

“John” isn’t too popular either.

Manhattan Avenue

If you happen to be Hispanic, wealthy and gay, Greenpoint is not the place to be. Wait, scratch that. We like them. Sorry about that— it’s getting hard to keep track of all this Greenpoint “love” I am experiencing.

McGuinness Boulevard

It’s nothing personal, mind you.

Some people are just assholes.

In all seriousness folks, life is hard enough as is. Taking the time to write racist, sexist and homophobic remarks— even seemingly funny ones— on public property does not help matters. If I had one thing to say to these people it would be this:

Why not try being nice to people for a change?

Not only does this cost not so much as a dime, but everyone benefits.

Even assholes.

Miss Heather