The Columbian Cartel

It would appear that my post about 37 North Henry Street hit a nerve. You know, when I reread the previously-mentioned post the following day there was a brief moment when I thought to myself:

Perhaps I was a little harsh?

Now it has become apparent I wasn’t. What’s more, this less-than-professional piece of correspondence serves as proof they are paying attention. Even on a Saturday night —which is when I received this turd. Now if I could only manage to piss off all the spammers pitching me penis enhancement pills, I’d be all aces.

Fortunately, I also received a very nice (and very funny) email from the Co-Pastor of the Greenpoint Reformed Church. As the following excerpt indicates, she too has been under siege by the Columbian Cartel. She writes:

Dear Miss Heather,

First off, thank you for the wonderful public service you provide with your blog. You make me proud to call myself a Greenpointer. Of course, some of the locals may call me other things…

I write to you today with an idea. For years, we here at the one-time smallest church in North Brooklyn, have been a part of the autumn-migration pattern of the Columbia University Journalism School student. Originally a novel experience, it has grown to become a minor nuisance. Jesus, of course, commands us to welcome the stranger, so it is difficult to refuse to sit down with a clueless fresh off the U-haul grad student. Nonetheless, it does take a significant amount of time and often ends with being misquoted at that. I gather that as our neighborhood-webdiva-extraordinare you, too, have become a part of this graduate school rite of passage.

Now, on to the idea…last week my clergy colleagues (yes, there are actually four mainline Protestant clergy in GP, though you might not have imagined this) and I gathered for coffee and discussed the fact that each of us had spent significant time that week with one or more j-school kids. Perhaps, we thought, we could organize one giant meeting of all of us with all of the j-students and then be done with them for the year. Seeing as you are now a part of this illustrious group of Greenpointers targeted for interviews, perhaps you would like to join us as we organize such an event. I’m not sure it would benefit us to do it this year, perhaps we’re already interviewed out, but we might definitely manage to get it done for next year. Any thoughts?

Thanks again for keeping tabs on the neighborhood.

WOW… and thanks! You know a situation is totally out of control when church leaders convene to discuss it. Imagine that: the Garden Spot’s very own Council of Trent. Who knows, maybe an Auto de Fe will be next? Get out your marshmallows, fellow Greenpointers! It’s time to roast us some heretics!

Miss Heather

A Resident of Freeman Street Speaks Out About Trash

As some of you may remember, earlier this month I wrote about 100 Freeman Street receiving a ticket for having excessive debris on their sidewalk. Well, it would appear that bottle(s), cigarette pack, newspaper(s) and over-grown tree pits are not the only things you’ll find strewn there. “Local” writes:

Though you’d recently been unimpressed with the trash left outside 100 Freeman St. — any resident or neighbor can assure you that building’s so-called maintenance earns whatever fines it gets — here’s what one could find left out on the curb there Saturday.

Romeo and Pukiet were spotted around 8 am, lying in puddles of their own puke, undisturbed by a steady rain and later by a police siren. Finally the cops got them up and they trudged arm in arm toward Manhattan Ave., when Pukiet stopped to dirty up the block once more (her man, no doubt a fantastic date) continued walking.

Ironically enough, I spent a considerable amount of time talking to the Co-Pastor of the Greenpoint Reformed Church last night. She wanted my take on what social problems her organization should target. Drug abuse (heroin) and alcoholism were discussed. I told her long-term residents were not the only ones afflicted; I have seen 20-somethings nodding off on my block numerous times. It is a very, very disturbing sight. Most people ignore such “trash” in the hopes it’ll go away. It doesn’t.

Such is the “hip neighborhood” that is Greenpoint, folks. When you move to New York Shitty’s next luxury Condoland be sure not to share needles or asphyxiate in your own vomit!

I honestly don’t know whether I should laugh or cry.

Miss Heather

P.S.: I was also furnished with a photo of this woman vomiting but have elected not to post it. It is pretty clear she has enough problems already.

New Waterfront Park on Newtown Creek

Located adjacent to Greenpoint’s very own sewage treatment plant (at Provost Street and Paidge Avenue), here it is! Those of you who are interested in checking it out firsthand will be able to do so at the official opening September 29 from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. More details about my Newtown Creek experience to come, I’m pooped!

Miss Heather

P.S.: Those of you who want a sneak peek at the less savory aspects of Newtown Creek (which are forthcoming) check out the set of photos I have started assembling on Flickr.

Weekend Construction Site Du Jour: 90 Guernsey Street

First off, I’d like to thank my fellow Greenpointer(s) and 11222-er for getting the word out about yesterday’s fund raiser at the library. While I’ll never know for certain if we helped with the tremendous turnout I beheld, I did overhear an employee say that it went much better than expected.

After leaving, Lisa Vallez and I bantered while strolling along Nassau Avenue. At Guernsey Street we parted ways; she to continue her trek to BARC, me to make a long-anticipated (and very needed) journey home. Rounding the corner I heard the ping-pang of hammers. A veritable anvil chorus of elves were feverishly engaged in constructing (yet) another non-contextual Post Modernist building with ginormous balconies..

Sure, you don’t see any men at work in the above photo. You didn’t have to. The noise they were making (and this includes copious amounts of profanity) could be heard distinctly down the block. Even I was impressed with their mastery of the latter. I took notes.

Come on in, sit a spell!

Variance permits are pretty easy to spot. They look like this. Click on the above image and see if can find one.

Miss Heather

Fire Down Below

A reader of New York Shitty, Astral resident and all-around very nice woman, Rowan, gave me her take on the bedbuggery going down there. She writes:

Personally, I haven’t experienced the bedbug problem (knock on wood!), but I also haven’t been living there that long – only since March 2007. I do see furniture and mattresses that are left out front with warnings about bug infestations, usually in front of 74, but that’s something you probably see, too.

This evening as I was walking to Casa Mon Amour something in front of the 74 India Street entrance of the Astral caught my eye

I honestly didn’t know bedbugs could (or would care to) infest such an item. What a pain in the ass (pun intended). Obviously I need to read Bedbuggers more thoroughly— and often.

As should the person who saw fit to rummage through these bags of clothing placed precariously (and tellingly) close to the above-infested chair.

What’s that burning sensation you’re feeling down there? It’s Greenpoint!

Miss Heather

P.S.: I’d like to give the fine folks at Bedbugger a hearty helping of thanks on behalf of a good friend of mine who just discovered she has some unwanted roommates. She really enjoyed reading your site— she only wishes she didn’t have to. Nothing personal.

Bloody Marys For The Masses!

As an old(er)-school Greenpointer, I try to refrain from grousing about the recent wave of 20-somethings moving here. Sure many of them are aggravating— but who wasn’t when he (or she) was that age? Seriously. Occasionally the ingenuity some of my newer neighbors possess even impresses me. Like today.

I found this flyer at Greenpoint Avenue and Franklin Street. Any Greenpointer worth his (or her) salt will tell you this intersection (located in one of the most “vice” ridden ‘nabes in this fine Boro of Kings) is a popular venue for the al fresco consumption of alcoholic beverages.

The above photo (taken exactly a week ago at the previously-mentioned intersection) bears witness to the formidable marketing savvy of the folks at 107 Green Street. Note the party ball. A few hours after it was taken a wino seated himself in the red chair and endeavored to open a brand-spanking new fifth of vodka. The beer might have been gone, but this gent made good and damned sure the party went on! Beer is for south Brooklyn brownstone-dwelling pussies. Greenpoint keeps it real:

Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker!

But back to the most brilliant young capitalists I have ever met.

Unlike many advertisements that seem too good to be true, this one wasn’t.

To the residents of 107 Green Street:

I salute you. It is innovating thinking such as yours that makes America great. I am proud to have you as a neighbor.

Sincerely,

Miss Heather

UPDATE: I learned from the proprietress of Casa Mon Amour this evening that this Bloody Mary stand was the talk of Franklin Street. Apparently a dissatisfied quaffer complained to her that they were “cheap”. I am no Amy Vanderbilt; but I was always taught that free booze shouldn’t be dissed. To do otherwise is to breach proper Garden Spot etiquette.

The Greenpoint 100 Auction is Today!

Although I will be at work during most of the festivities, here is the itinerary I received from the co-presidents of Friends of the Greenpoint Library:

The event will begin at 11:00 a.m. Judging will be from 12:30-1:30 pm… We will be taking down names of potential buyers (3 per work) from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. Starting at 2:00 p.m. the actual sale will take place. If the first person on the list is not present, the second person on the list will have the opportunity to buy and so on.

They also need volunteers to lend a hand with the following:

Installation and set-up: 10:00 a.m. -11:00 a.m.

Refreshments table: 11:00 a.m. -2:30 p.m.

Distribution of art to buyers: 2:00 p.m. -2:30 p.m.

Break-down/clean-up: 3:00 p.m. -3:30p.m.

$25.00 is a very small price to pay for not only a work of art, but to help our local library. Besides, who wouldn’t want this hanging on his or her wall? The woman who took my contribution recognized the dude on the couch immediately; he was sleeping on her stoop that morning.

Miss Heather