Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
New York Shitty Day Starter: I Want My Money
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Lest I have not made this clear I am rather fond of the proprietor of Brooklyn11211. He is a very intelligent person. He has an eye for architectural goodness and possesses a brand of acerbic wit I adore. But we occasionally disagree— make that more often than not nowadays— regarding the 2005 rezone. And rezone 2.0. The 2005 rezone in north Greenpoint is a total and utter failure. Derelict properties, vacant lots and “nondos” pepper my landscape.
Needless to say I found it interesting when my colleague, Brooklyn11211, recently conversed with Jake Mooney of the New York Times and relayed a far more optimistic view of Greenpoint than I possess. What would I know? I only live here and have the pleasure of living on the same block with one of gentrification’s most notorious failures: The Viridian. Sure, I was never fond of the bus depots running 24/7/365 which preceded this faux Modernist turd. But after that “public nuisance” was razed and Magic’s folly commenced Ms. Jacob’s eyes ceased to exist. And my block got seedy.
Now that Magic Johnson (and his funky bunch have declared bankruptcy) and his heap of shit (110 Green Street, AKA the Viridian) is derelict my block has become much more lively. CASE IN POINT:
This delightful footage I shot at 1:00 this morning.
My colleague in Williamsburg and Jake Mooney can talk up Greenpoint all they want. The previous is my reality. And I suspect over the summer it is only going to get worse.
Toodles!
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Recession Watch: Yet Another One Bites The Dust
In news of the hardly surprising variety (as I imagine the market for high end furnishings is next to nonexistent in Greenpoint nowadays— if indeed it ever existed at all) Green & West Furniture, which opened last autumn at 190 West Street, has closed shop.
Miss Heather
Lost In Greenpoint: Tina Turner
You know, every now and then
I think you might like to hear something from New York ShittyNice and easy
But there’s just one thing
You see, I never ever do nothingNice and easy
I always do it nice and rough
So I’m gonna take the beginning of this postAnd do it easy
Then I’m gonna do the finish rough
This is the way I do lost cat named Tina Turner proud!
This weekend I had dinner with some good friends of mine at Casanova Restaurant. Located on the Garden Spot of the Universe’s answer to the Champs-Élysées (READ: 388 McGuinness Boulevard), it has been my observation that many will not give this sorely underrated eating and drinking establishment a whirl. This is a shame: the food is good, the price is right, the service gracious, the wait staff courteous and the rear dining room is fabulously decadent.
What does my previous effusive endorsement of an Italian restaurant have to do with a lost cat, you ask? My answer is very simple: pleasant surroundings are conducive to enjoyable conversations. And enjoyable conversation was the main course this particular evening. Upon hearing one person’s encounter with a “rat-sized” tea cup chihuahua named “Vinny” we aired our respective opinions about pet names. One person present said he was amused by pets who have “human” names ( “Vinny”).
I told him I found pets named after inanimate objects fascinating. Especially food: “Tortilla”, “Chocolate”, “Pickles” (who I was told was dumber than a bag of hammers) and Uni, my very own calico, are examples to name a few. When I adopted Uni from her college student “parents” (who were, not surprisingly, Japanese) they said I could change her name. I didn’t want to: it suited her purrrfectly.
For better or worse what we are trained to answer to is not our decision to make. Speaking for myself my mother picked “Heather” for me because she thought it was “unique”. 30-odd years of hindsight (and being mistaken for any one of another “Heathers”) proved her wrong. But I digress.
What’s in a name? Well, in this case, quite a bit.
If anyone has seen Miss Turner please contact her person at the above-listed phone number or email address. And before you judge this pet owner for his choice of pet names I’d like to remind you I have a cat named Frances. As in Frances Farmer.
She has always been “cantankerous”, this I will confess. Shortly after I had her spayed— 15 years ago— I decided to go out of town for the weekend. When I came back home she hissed at me, climbed atop my pile of laundry, looked me in the eye and took a shit. As a senior kittizen she has slowed down considerably— but Miss Frances (AKA: “Stinky”) gets her digs in when she feels like: two weeks ago she pissed on Mister Heather’s head. While he was sleeping, no less.
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet?
— Williams Shakespeare
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: Shadow Play
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From Green Street.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: Ellis G.
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From Green Street.
Miss Heather
Happy Mother’s Day From The Viridian!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I do not qualify as a mother per se but as the keeper of five cats and husband I felt entitled to take the day easy. In fact, I did nothing whatsoever— and you know what? It felt good! My neighbors, conversely, were anything but layabouts. Wishing to make the most of today’s most opportune break from the recent onslaught of stormy weather they rolled out the barbecue grill, popped open a few brewskis and played a rousing round (or nine) of “toss the pylon”.
Courtesy of Greenpoint’s good friend, Magic Johnson.
The rules of the game seem simple enough: you toss pylons.
In the street.
On your neighbor’s sidewalk.
And even at your neighbor’s window! Given Mr. Johnson’s interest in physical fitness I have little doubt he’ll be pleased as punch to know the neighborhood youths also joined in the fun.
What better gift could a child possibly give his mother on her special day than a memento of one of the most misguided developments in north Brooklyn? Arguably the only more fitting memorial I can think of would be a tee shirt:
Magic Johnson built a luxury condo and all I got was this lousy pylon.
Miss Heather
Greenpoint Photos Du Jour: What Is Wrong With This Picture?
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
During his stay at Chez Shitty my father got to witness firsthand the hilarity that is life in Greenpoint. Upon arriving he beheld the barricaded glory that is 110 Green Street and, appropriately enough, shortly before he departed we got a few chuckles courtesy of the following.
What is wrong with this picture? If you guessed the giant nondo to the left you are only half correct. If you look a little more closely you’ll notice…
this traffic sign. Note the direction the of the cars parked on this block. Now note the orientation of this sign. Now factor in that Green is a one way street and you get the idea.
For those of you who are not in the know there is a stop sign located on this block within eyeshot of the above-depicted sign.
Unfortunately it is located in the opposite direction. Whoops. It just goes to show there is no job, however small, this city cannot manage to bungle. Given that our municipal guardians had a 50/50 chance of getting it right this is no small feat. Way to go guys.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: Sweet Victory
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
After I won the hat contest this evening (at tbd and gave props to Pa Heather— who was present— and to whom I dedicated the bottle of Maker’s Mark I won while wearing this) I encountered this select piece of street seating in front of the Viridian on the way home.
This one’s for you, Bob.*
Miss Heather
*You are gone— but not forgotten.
HEADS UP!
IDT Energy is canvassing Greenpoint today in search of more victims clients. I caught the above gentleman attempting to swindle a woman at 12:21 p.m. on Green Street. Those of you who are approached by these people take note: they are NOT employees of Con Edison. They will NOT save you money. They want to rip you off and will use deceptive sales practices to do it. To learn more about what IDT and other so-called “energy providers” are up to click here.
Miss Heather
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