An abandoned UK telephone booth in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.
The Beatards perform at the opening night party for the new Brooklyn location of Beauty Bar, in Bushwick.
• There are times where you find yourself sitting next to someone on an airplane, engaged in deep conversation, for perhaps four-plus hours, then you wait for checked luggage, still talking, and take public transportation together, still talking. But of course, never more than a first name is mentioned, and barely that much. Certainly one of you isn’t actively interested in filling a void, be it friendship or a relationship, perhaps both of you aren’t looking. No reason to exchange information, or business cards and the like. But is it idle wasted time? Is it any more significant than four hundred ten-second micro conversions in the elevator with distant employees on a Monday to Friday basis? Or does it serve more as nighttime dreams do: providing a glimpse at a different reality by effectively stepping into someone else’s shoes for a few hours while you hear a life story unlike your own?
I was hanging out with an old homeless, alcoholic guy about five years ago, and he was answering an assortment of questions I was throwing his way, about what the transient life was like, where he had been, where he was originally from, if he had family, etc. And I suppose because I can still remember the evening, conversations with people aren’t ultimately wastes of time. Sure, everything seems more immediate and relevant when you capture a bit of enthusiasm in someone (a stranger, like these examples, or even a past, serious relationship), but with time the core of the once-important conversation rots away, and there’s a shell; though it can still be chalked up to life experience on some level.
I had to model a t-shirt for a work-related email the other day.
• Thanks to Ashley for saving us (Jenn, Rebecca, and myself) some real North Carolina barbeque at her Memorial Day rooftop afternoon party. Will Hall, Mike Schlereth, DLISH, and Bethany were also in attendance, among others.
• David & Cindy hosted their annual Memorial Day Weekend grillout the other weekend in their compact and pretty back patio in Hoboken, NJ. I’m partial to the combination of aged outdoor patio tiles, aggressive ivy, and old-fashioned, large-bulb string lights during a booze-filled summer evening. One of David’s neighbors was talking about actively campaigning to save the local residential-style YMCA, among other zoning/development concerns. I met a few of Jenn’s coworkers as well: Tim and Saime.
I mean, it seems like somebody was talking about some “this food is straight garb,” drop-kicks it, then says, “snap, I just accidently stepped in it.”
• Recently Jenn introduced me to one of her friends, Rebecca, who stayed with us for a few days, on shore leave between working on ships. As a biologist, one of her tasks is to watch for whales, sea turtles, and other large aquatic life on large research vessels. She came from spending 3-4 months aboard a boat in the Gulf of Mexico, and heads out to a different ship later this week off the coast of Australia, and possibly in an additional four weeks or so, heads up to Sweden. She’s got some great stories from a few years she spent in Guatemala, plus some really intense stories from a stint in Guam. My jaw kept dropping as she was describing in great detail climbing through massive garbage piles in the middle of the night, crawling with rats, to capture and kill a certain type of invasive snake species. But that’s just one of the stories, she had a lot more to tell. Very cool girl.
• After the City Island ride (1350) a few weeks back, Jenn and I met up with Rebecca to join in on a cozy grill out over in Mr. Appalachia’s backyard in lawless Red Hook.
• This past Friday, after a quick dinner at the new Neighburrito (in the old Dash Dogs space in the Lower), we hustled over to the Brooklyn Beauty Bar grand opening out in Bushwick, meeting Marta and Pam, who was in from Chicago (via a business trip in Cairo, Egypt). After listening to the initial DJ set (somewhat Diplo in terms of rhythm and samples, somewhat Girl Talk/early Prefuse73 in terms of sampling pieces of mainstream hip-hop hooks, but never entire words, generally minimizing vocals, but with a slight dub-step influence in terms of time-signature changes and some occasional metallic-sounding beats thrown in with a sampler. Next up, a three-man hip-hop performance with a pretty classic delivery. We wandered over to Bushwick Country Club in the East Williamsburg-ish, Grand Street area, and saw a handful of known names in the Brooklyn cycling scene.
DLISH and Robin, as seen on a rooftop.
• On the subject of bikes, I scored a 1988 Centurion Dave Scott Expert Ironman with all Shimano 105 components for a very reasonable price on Craigslist, to hopefully use on some longer rides. I decided to fully embrace it’s nasty 1980s paint job from the start, and also ended up getting the thumbs up from my friends when they saw it this past weekend. I don’t have a suitable shot of the bike yet.
• This past Saturday started with an official block party on my block in South Slope, so Jenn and I made turkey burgers for a bunch of friends, met some neighbors, and then biked over to the Gowanus area to just miss very end of the Madagascar show. Hans, Cory, Jenn, Marta, and I ended up talking with and helping the artists disassemble all of the installations (including a zipline daringly strung across the canal). Once everyone had left, we rode over to Littlefield, on the other side of the canal for a handful of additional drinks, and to admire their small outdoor area. With Cory and Hans around, normal plants take on a new importance when they’re discussing short and long-term implications of their placement/existence/etc.
Is it possible to leave New York when there’s stuff like this everyday? And I don’t mean that in an elitist way, the striped socks speak for themselves.
