Weird Things that I Do

23 04 2012

As is the fate of most New Yorkers, I end up spending a lot of time by myself.  Fortunately, I can entertain myself for hours on end with various degrees of nonsense.  With the emergence of this delicious weather and a little bit of money in my pocket (thank you, birthday and Uncle Sam) I have, of late, rekindled my long and passionate love affair with shopping.  I realize that “shopping” and “New York” conjures up cinematic images of celebrities, 5th avenue, Louis Vitton flagships and the like, so perhaps “browsing” is the more appropriate word choice.  The reality at hand is: I am a Social Worker, live in Brooklyn (read slightly cheaper borough) and come from a long line of “thrifty” types (to put it nicely).  Let’s just say that any restaurant apart from Dairy Queen, Sonic or Chili’s is referred to by my father as “yuppy.”

The past couple of Fridays I’ve had the leisurely pleasure of walking home (Ft. Greene) from work (Bed Stuy).  If you are into walkabouts and can hold your own in the “less predictable” areas of the city there are bargains, treasures and plenty of weirdness to be found.  Here are a a few gems from my recent strolls down Fulton St., some classier than others:

Family Dollar (1090 Fulton St.)–this store is like Walgreens (another fave of mine), only with more candy and $5 scented candles (God, I am turning into my mother).  I realize this is a low-budget chain, but $6.50 for a multipack box of tampax deserves some props (am I right, ladies?)

Last week I finally visited the Kelso Brewery and was disheartened to learn that they no longer offer tours but happy to learn they sell growlers of their delicious brewskis….and that the guy who works there is hot.

Walking tour side note: Capital One bank (858 Fulton St.) has no ATM fees for ING customers….but having only thirty dollars in my account made that a moot point.

The further west on Fulton, the more hipster-y bars, farm-to-table type restaurants (so predictable) and a surprising amount of bakeries.  Never one to turn down a sweet, I decided the neighborly thing to do was sample from one of these delightfully cutesy storefronts.  I settled for a giant piece of strawberry shortcake from Essential Cakes (886 Fulton St.), which hit all kinds of spots, though not surpassing the Cake Man Raven’s (708 Fulton St.) red velvet slice o’ heaven.  The Raven should be on everyone’s bucket list fo sho.

There’s a new restaurant about to open on Fulton and Classon called Alice’s Arbor.  I just like that it looks like a boat from the outside.  Am I right?

If you look just past Alice’s you’ll see a smaller, stand-alone hotel in the background.  I have a strange fascination with New York hotels (and schools and grocery stores for that matter..pretty much any institution requiring a large surface area to function).  I’m always a little surprised when I see hotels outside of Times Square.  And surprised that (warning: NYC snobbery coming out here) there are actually tourists educated enough to expand their horizons outside of said neighborhood.  At any rate, the ole’ “Pleasant Stay” looked like it had some stories to tell.  I scoured the internet hoping for at least a good ghost story, murder mystery plot or  famous-artist-in-hiding situation.  The story I found on the Clinton Hill blog was unfortunately more melancholy than murder mystery.  One commenter remarks:

“the hotel is used by cumberland hospital as a housing location for their patients who have aids”  Eyemaze.net stated something similar…that it’s an SRO/halfway house for people with HIV/AIDS.

Another factoid I found was an album by artist Vanessa Boyd entitled “Pleasant Stay Hotel.”  Though I couldn’t find any confirmation that she was inspired by the original, she does live in New York and the album cover seems oddly familiar…

Coincidence?  I think not.  I’ll leave you with this sultry little number from Ms. Boyd’s album





Keeper

20 01 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Robert Polidori in New Orleans after Katrina.  Beauty in Devastation.  Props to The Principles of Uncertainty for this new discovery.





A Very Brooklyn Christmas

25 12 2011

Oh Christmas tree
Oh Christmas tree

On gritty streets
In skinny jeans
Sagged way down low
Like any other day

Oh Christmas tree
Oh Grit-mas tree

Ain’t things supposed to be merry and bright
For just one day?

But the joint on the corner
With the man whose a foreigner
Still getting’ that New York attitude
Bout chicken wings and extra sauce
And make it hot and gimme “mas”

Oh Christmas tree
Oh Bliss-less tree

No family smiles
No church service choirs
Just Popeyes and wilin’
To the speakers in your ears

Blockin’ out the world so all you hear is that
“We found love in a hopeless place”
Not my usual cup of Yuletide cheer

But ‘usual’ ain’t why I’m here
So gimme your fried and your saggy-ass jeans
And your sauce on the side
And your swag built on pride

We’ll feast on each other’s legacies
And laugh at kinks the present brings
And know we did indeed find love

On this dingiest of G trains
In this boring-est of laundry chains
On this most beautiful of holidays

Oh Christmas tree
Oh Christmas tree

You sure ain’t what you used to be





Gravity

31 10 2011

My latest and greatest…

I am grown now
But your words stake claim in me
My face hidden behind your history

How could this be?
So many years to uncover
What’s been oppressing me

I wear your woes
Like genetic code
Like boulders for a heart
Like a lineage of penance that I must perform

Your damage is deep
And your blood on my hands
Became the drumming in my chest
And the loss of breath

And the loss of voice

But I am speaking now
With trembling tremors
With sideways glances
Sucked into your gravity
But on my way out

Trapped
Your power is too much for me
Too much
too much
too much for me





What rhymes would Jesus spit?

16 08 2011

Oh man.  Such a Monday.  Tired as hell.  Actually got a seat on the train this morning, which appeared to be some sort of karmaic start to my day…..until the preaching started.  Yep, the innocent looking lady at the end of the train had to go and start telling us how much Jesus loves us (which is not such a terrible thing to hear at that early morning hour).  But those of us who are way past our subway-riding prime know good and well it never stops there.  Nope.  Then come the Bible verses and the more Bible verses and the mini-sermon and had I not known who Jesus was before that subway ride, this lady’s early morning of invasion of my quiet space would have made me want to swear him off for eternity.  If Jesus was on the downtown Q with me this morning, I’d like to think he would have given up his seat and provided me with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee.  Not distracted me from a really good book and made me wanna beat him over the head.  Just sayin….somethin to chew on.

The beautiful combination of Spotify and the new Bon Iver album have been keeping me from completely losing my shit in this post-grad school, pre-professional, present malaise of a place.  I am thankful for art and all the ways that it heals and all of the lives it takes on after its creation.  It’s like this living, breathing life form that becomes so much bigger than the artist.  In the past month I’ve heard two poets say similar things about their work.  On a panel I recently attended, Brooklyn poet Kahlil Almustafa said that he never has expectations about his art.  For him it’s always just been for his personal healing process.  And then there was this CNN article about one of my favorite rappers and poets, K’naan: “He targets no audience in his composition.  He writes songs for himself, he said, to answer his own frustrations.  Any acclaim only bolsters his notion that it’s OK to be personal in songwriting.”

True artists.  Capturing the essence of killing superwoman.


 

 





A Toast

11 08 2011

Listening to Bon Iver’s newish album on Spotify right now–one of the few things keeping me sane in this ambiguous and exhausting season.  I wish that sunny Texan cheerleader side of me would come out to say hey and that it still exists.

I would love to perform something…anything, really.  I don’t exactly know any instruments (aside from the brief elementary school stint in piano lessons.  oh, and let us not forget the recorder) but think I could.  Entertainment is in my blood and sometimes I feel like the stage is the perfect home for me–comforted in a crowd but with just enough distance between them and me.  Jealous of artists who get to pour their shit and glory out to the world every day and move others to greater things.

Here’s to the greater things.





Summer Reading: “Zami”

3 07 2011

Just finished my first non-school reading since graduation–this autobiographical gem from belated poet and activist, Audre Lorde:

Zami: A New Spelling of my Name

 

I’d heard a lot about Audre from my classmates who’ve been heavily  influenced by her writings.  The book wasn’t exactly what I expected and I still don’t know much about her civil rights work as the book stops right before that period.  However, seeing New York City through the eyes of a Black gay woman was certainly a stray from traditional visions of 1950′s America (a la “Mad Men”).  Her descriptions are luscious and the way in which she embraced herself, her city, her tragedies and her lovers is nothing short of beautiful.

On Deck: Decoded by Jay-Z and The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson








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