Last night in Connecticut I took part in a conversation with a 33 year old man who told me he was born in Flatbush. I started to muse about the wonders of Flatbush over the last 50 years. I could see his eyes start to drift elsewhere. So I knew to stop. I just ended with I could talk about Brooklyn forever. He laughed.
Today on the way back from Connecticut I stoped by Central Park (not in brooklyn) to see The Gates. All I can say inane. isane.
I hope they recycle that orange safron
This would never happen in Brooklyn.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Exhausted
Today, the day after a slush storm, enboldened with four hours sleep, I traversed our beautiful bourough. First this morning I took the 3 train to Rockaway, across from Vandyke projects, a little building on Mother Gaston (who was she?). An hour or so over there and then back on the 3, transfered to the 2 train at Franklin, heard the infernal calypso singer (from thesubwaytrip fame) sing not 'when the saints go marching in' but 'three little birds', and chuckled. I then got off at church, walked about 25 blocks to my next destination near Kings County Hospital. By this time I was sick of walking over piles of melted snow and puddles of melted snow I want to go home.
So afterwards I got on the B52. Or was that the B54. I got off at the junction area, where the elevated J train and C train converge. There are about five bus lines that converge there also. I had a tuna salad in bag that needed eaten about that time. Where to eat it was the question. Because I don't like to eat on public transportation. It is like eating in the bathroom. There is a three story Mcdonalds with American Flags waving all over it. (about the onlything in the neighborhood bysides a check cashing place) The good news was I could not even bring myself to step in. Across the street, next to the check cashing place is a Dunkin Donuts. I took shelter from the wet and from the stink to eat my tuna salad.
After this, back on the B54 to Vermont and Liberty. About an hour or so there.
After this I walk to the C train. Did I tell you my pants are wet up to my kneees by now. Though I go underground now, out of the wet but not out of the stink, I take the the C to the F to the N. To Astoria. I emerge in a totally different bourough (Queens) and two hours later. About a half hour there and then.
Finished. AAARRRFFF
So afterwards I got on the B52. Or was that the B54. I got off at the junction area, where the elevated J train and C train converge. There are about five bus lines that converge there also. I had a tuna salad in bag that needed eaten about that time. Where to eat it was the question. Because I don't like to eat on public transportation. It is like eating in the bathroom. There is a three story Mcdonalds with American Flags waving all over it. (about the onlything in the neighborhood bysides a check cashing place) The good news was I could not even bring myself to step in. Across the street, next to the check cashing place is a Dunkin Donuts. I took shelter from the wet and from the stink to eat my tuna salad.
After this, back on the B54 to Vermont and Liberty. About an hour or so there.
After this I walk to the C train. Did I tell you my pants are wet up to my kneees by now. Though I go underground now, out of the wet but not out of the stink, I take the the C to the F to the N. To Astoria. I emerge in a totally different bourough (Queens) and two hours later. About a half hour there and then.
Finished. AAARRRFFF
Friday, February 11, 2005
Mean
Did not mean to be mean.
"How many of ya'll seen Blue in the Face" I saw it last week and laughed till I was. I think I saw it many years ago and not appreachiated it at all. But now after living in Brooklyn For four years I could not stop laughing. It was directed by the wonderful Paul Auster. Who lives around the block from me.
"How many of ya'll seen Blue in the Face" I saw it last week and laughed till I was. I think I saw it many years ago and not appreachiated it at all. But now after living in Brooklyn For four years I could not stop laughing. It was directed by the wonderful Paul Auster. Who lives around the block from me.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Yeah its your fault noel.
Well I am back in Brooklyn. After visit my old friend Danielle in Seatle. Ralph came along.
We got a taste of the local everyday neighborhood life and a taste of the vast untouched wilderness and the lonely stretches of primative beaches.
And it all was thought provoking. After four years of living in Brooklyn how differ the city out there are. What I mean is the environmental conciousness, (sp?) the conservation. Living concously, (sp) not consuming. New Yorkers just dont give a fuck. They are too busy surviving. NYC had a recycling program but it was cut for budget reasons. It may have been reinstated but I dont know.
Even the street garbage cans have recycling bins in the North west.
After hearing that NYC has no recycling program Danielle fell into a blubbering fit of 'thats disgusting, that pathetic.' and I found myself defending New York telling her that recycling does not make sense.
But latter on when we were walking down a gorgeous strip of untouch coast line Ralph tossed his can of Fosters in it the waves. I burst out crying and swearing at him. I waded knee deep to get the can and made him swear on his life to never ever do that again.
Go figure.
We got a taste of the local everyday neighborhood life and a taste of the vast untouched wilderness and the lonely stretches of primative beaches.
And it all was thought provoking. After four years of living in Brooklyn how differ the city out there are. What I mean is the environmental conciousness, (sp?) the conservation. Living concously, (sp) not consuming. New Yorkers just dont give a fuck. They are too busy surviving. NYC had a recycling program but it was cut for budget reasons. It may have been reinstated but I dont know.
Even the street garbage cans have recycling bins in the North west.
After hearing that NYC has no recycling program Danielle fell into a blubbering fit of 'thats disgusting, that pathetic.' and I found myself defending New York telling her that recycling does not make sense.
But latter on when we were walking down a gorgeous strip of untouch coast line Ralph tossed his can of Fosters in it the waves. I burst out crying and swearing at him. I waded knee deep to get the can and made him swear on his life to never ever do that again.
Go figure.
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