So Long Jeffrey Marsh

photo: cabaretjeffrey on flickr

Walking my son to summer camp in the neighbourhood early this morning, we passed by an open box of cds with several strewn on the sidewalk - all the same album and hot off the press. I wanted to stop and take a photo, but I was running late as it was. As I rushed home in the downpour on the way home from work, I saw that the box was still there, still full, and now sopping wet. Lucky for me, Big Joe had actually picked up one of the cds to listen to.

It was called 'Wood + Water' and the musician's name was 'Jeffrey Marsh.' Big Joe and I both wondered why someone would abandon an entire box of their own cds. It reminded Big Joe of a story he read in the zine 'Cometbus,' in which some guy created a zine, photocopied a box full, then after having little success selling them he moved out and left them behind. The roommate who took his place, found the box, and being a natural salesperson, sold the lot, making a nice chunk of change. Big Joe thought that maybe Magnifico could sell the cds as he's always trying to sell us one thing or another. He's been trying to sell me a bootleg copy of 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' for a while now. Only his bootleg copies are the absolute worst, made by someone with a cheap video camera at a movie theater. You can barely hear anything and there's always someone walking in front of the camera on their way to the bathroom. Last week he tried to sell Big Joe some clear plastic recycling bags. When Big Joe wasn't interested, Magnifico got mad, "You're cheap!" he grumbled. He's always calling Big Joe cheap. Mostly because Big Joe won't give him money when he asks for it.

As for the cd, it was melodic and crooning and neither Big Joe nor I were inclined to give it a second listen. But that's just us. According to his website, Jeffrey Marsh performs at Joe's Pub, so he must have a following. Jeffrey's twitter reveals that as of today, he's no longer a Bed-Stuyer, he's now a Manhattanite.

Michael Jackson: A True Legend, Now a T-shirt

Available at Broadway's sidewalk merchants.

I remember standing on the sidelines in my high school gymnasium, waiting in vain for a boy to ask me to dance, as the video for Thriller played on the overhead screen. My uncle, a gay airline steward in the seventies, had given me a doorsize poster of the Jackson Five which overshadowed everything else in my bedroom. Michael Jackson was genius. And clearly hurting. All that plastic surgery and scandal. Poor man. And if reports from his nanny are true, what a tragic ending. Rest in Peace.

Today's Local News: Buskers Come to Myrtle Subway Station

In the five years I've lived in Bed-Stuy, there's always been musicians on the J,M,Z trains. Not as frequently as some other trains, like the Q, but often enough that to see a trio of Mexicans singing with guitars on one's commute home, is not a wondrous occurrence. However in the last week, in the Myrtle Station I nearly tripped over a skinny white boy happily strumming a stringed instrument, possibly a banjo, with his open case at his feet. This busker was standing, of all places, at the foot of the stairs by the doors in between the token booth and the passageway to the trains. At evening rush hour, no less. It seems he could not have picked a more awkward place and time to play his music and annoy the crowds of exhausted rush hour commuters trying to get home as quickly as possible. I haven't seen him since, possibly he was trampled underfoot. I wouldn't have been surprised. Not only was he noticeable for his bad positioning but he was also the first busker I'd ever seen at our station.

And then today, the old Chinese man pictured above was playing his stringed instrument, not all that well, but this time in the open air, obstructing no one, on a calm weekend. For some reason this filled me with great joy. Or perhaps I was already filled with great joy. So I got out a dollar and had Little Joe deposit it in his instrument case.

Then this evening, we were struck by the vibrant, enormous rainbow in the sky. Also the first I'd seen, it seems, in my 15 years in New York. This has to be a sign. Of great changes, all for the better.

Brooklyn weather: Balmy and Colourful.

Is Bed-Stuy's Bad Rep Still Valid?

Female soldier of the National Revolutionary Army.

I received this email today:

I came across your blog a few weeks back. I am considering moving to Bed Stuy, specifically, the block where C-town supermarket is located. I am a Chinese girl in my late 20's and I will be living by myself. Would it be safe for me? Which part/streets in Bed Stuy should I avoid? Any info would be greatly appreciated.

In the past, questions about the safety of our neighbourhood annoyed me to no end. I generally felt that if you had to ask, then no, Bed-Stuy wasn't safe for you. But like any neighbourhood there are parts where it is quite safe to walk, and parts where you don't go after dark. But I hesitate to name the latter because I don't really like giving our hood any more bad press. And areas change, have changed, a lot in the last couple of years, even while I've been writing this blog. And besides, I've got to get up early for my new job tomorrow (I love saying that!) and need to get some sleep.

So I'm opening this up to my readers, newbies and longtimers. Where in Bed-Stuy do you live and how 'safe' would you say it was? Also how do you feel about people who ask you how safe the neighbourhood is? And for my own personal interest, has the safety level of your part of the hood gotten better or worse with gentrification?

A Working Life

Readers have raised a few questions since my last post:

Will you keep blogging?

As long as I can although, admittedly, timewise, it's already a strain. Maybe as one reader suggested, it will shift from 6 days a week to only weekends. Time will tell.

Give us some details about your new job.

Contrary to some people's perception about my blog, I try to keep my private life exactly that. The details I chose to share on this blog are chosen extremely carefully. And one thing that I feel is important, is not to write about my current job. However, changing careers means that I can now write freely about my previous job as a life model for a fashion drawing class. And I have much to tell.

But now, I'm exhausted. The deal is signed sealed and delivered, so to speak. If I didn't have it on paper in front me with a set of the keys to the office I'd think I was dreaming. So off to bed.

And good luck to all of you who are still unemployed. Be persistent. Keep your mind open as opportunities can come via the least expected direction. If anything, I hope my story encourages others to follow their dreams. They can come true.

Breaking News: Struggling Family Gets Off Food Stamps

This seems nothing short of miraculous. I was interning once a week for a couple of months to change careers to do something I really wanted to do that would bring in a good income. Of course I had issues over being a 40 year old intern, but I got over that fast - and enjoyed my internship. And then miracle of miracles, a job came up that the person I was interning for forwarded to me, and even though I didn't have as much experience as the other person they were considering, they offered me the job. Full-time! Although I haven't signed anything yet, I feel a little like when you're pregnant in the first trimester and you're not supposed to tell anyone, just in case... But I can't help myself. Good-bye food stamps. Good-bye Medicaid. Good-bye waitressing career. No longer any need to hang my head in unemployed shame. (Not that there's any need for any unemployed person to hang their head in shame - but I did all the same.) Hello work in an artistic field, that's creative and pays decently. Hurray, hurray, hurray!

Big Joe and Little Joe bought me some gorgeous yellow flowers to celebrate and made me a wonderful card - the cover is above. It couldn't be more appropriate. I feel just like that cowgirl on the horse. Yee haw!

Homeowners Resource Expo

This just in...

CIBS Asset Building Network

FREE Homeowners Resource Expo

Medgar Evers College, Brooklyn

Saturday, June, 27, 2009 – 10:00 AM

Disseminating Facts about President Obama’s

‘Make Your Home Affordable Program’ … and More

EVENT: Brooklyn, NY—On Saturday, June 27 beginning at 10:00 AM, the Coalition for the Improvement of Bedford-Stuyvesant (CIBS) will hold a FREE Homeowners Resource Expo at Medgar Evers College located at 1650 Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn, NY. The Expo will highlight the collaborative efforts of Bedford-Stuyvesant organizations assisting local residents to gain the financial tools and services needed to deal with heavy debt burdens including mortgage foreclosure. The symposium will place a special emphasis on the Obama Administration’s ‘Make Your Home Affordable Program’.

Ann Tripp, WBLS on Air Journalist, will moderate the Resource Expo. Elected officials who will be in attendance are Assemblywoman Annette Robinson, Councilman Albert Vann and additional representatives from state and city government.

WHERE: Medgar Evers College located at 1650 Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn

WHEN: Saturday, June 27th from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm

WHY: In this economic climate, many homeowners are now facing foreclosures or have fallen deeply behind on their mortgage. Unfortunately, these same owners also fallen prey to predatory lenders, who offer loans with interest rates so high that they are almost impossible to pay. In addition, some unscrupulous individuals offer to “help” homeowners with financial problems by offering to buy the deed to their home. Owners should immediately BEWARE OF SUCH OFFERS!

There are better and more affordable means of assistance for homeowners. Non-profit member organizations of the CIBS Asset Building Network provide services for free or low-cost. The Homeowner Resource Expo will have on hand mortgage lenders, foreclosure intervention counselors, and legal representatives to discuss with homeowners, in private, one-on-one work out sessions, available options including loan incentives provided by the Obama Administration’s ‘Make Your Home Affordable Program’.

WHO: Councilmember Al Vann and CIBS Asset Building Network Members in Alphabetical order: Bedford-Stuyvesant Restoration Corporation, Brooklyn Federal Credit Union, Bridge Street Development, Pratt Area Community Council, Neighborhood Housing Services of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Long Life Info and Referral, and Bedford-Stuyvesant Legal Services. Other partners include: Medgar Evers College, Chase Bank and HSBC Bank.

For further information, call Barfield Public Relations, Inc. 917-620-1311 / 212-736-0404 and or (718) 732-8027 or email Monserrate_Nunez@nhsnyc.org At Neighborhood Housing Services of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Inc. – **

A Little Bit Racist

One chink and six honkys.
(a photo of my seventh birthday party in North Vancouver, originally posted on my other blog, Sinkek)

We got back from Connecticut late last night, after Little Joe and I went up there after school on Friday, to see the completed mural that Big Joe did with an organization that helps people "recovering from prolonged mental illness." I've always thought of Connecticut as being really white, and as 99% of the people taking Metro North up with us on Friday evening were exactly that - I figured I was right. But Big Joe corrected me as soon as arrived. Plus, in town I did see several black people and a couple of Asian women with white men.

So today as I had missed two days of blogging, just I was wondering what to rant about, I discovered this review of my blog by someone named Trisha Lynn, who writes, "I find her reality to be a little different than mine. I can't help but feel that she's being just a little bit racist sometimes, though." Trisha Lynn, who is clearly not a racist, describes herself as "a cute Filipina who is moving away from Harlem." What the 'moving away from Harlem' part signifies I have no idea. But as she isn't black I have to say it sounds a little bit racist.

But before I go any further, let's go over the definition of 'racism.' From the Merriam Webster Dictionary:

rac·ism

Pronunciation:

\ˈrā-ˌsi-zəm also -ˌshi-\

Function:

noun

Date:

1933

1 : a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race

Going by this definition, would I define myself as racist? No. I do not believe that any race is 'superior' to another, nor that race determines anything except the skin colour and physical characteristics of one's child. But I do write about race, or actually more about the colour of people's skin that I see, constantly. Growing up yellow in an all white suburb, from a young age I was acutely aware of my colour, and everyone else's. And then I moved with my white partner to Bed-Stuy - a neighbourhood that identifies itself as mostly black, to a street that, five years ago, didn't have any white people living on it. The black kids who used to live in the house on the corner sometimes jokingly pretended to speak 'Chinese' to me as I walked past. Are they racist? Magnifico, a black man who lives a few doors down, became really angry, well, angrier than usual, when Big Joe's dad came to visit and was walking down the street admiring the brownstones, because he assumed that Big Joe's dad was a real estate developer. Is he racist? When my white friend attends AA meetings in our hood and is the only white person there - the others won't talk to him beyond the initial greetings even though he's been to their meetings several times, and he's tried to start conversations with them. Are they racist? The Chinese side of our street never interacts with what used to be the black side of the street and vice versa, while the newer white residents on our block largely seem to interact no one but their white friends. Is everyone a racist?

We moved to New York, and decided to stay and bring up a family here for a number of reasons. One main reason was the diversity of the city. We'd both grown up in largely white suburbs and didn't want our kid growing up surrounded by people of one colour, one background. We both love the fact that people on the street, on the train, and in our son's school, come from all corners of the world, speak a multitude of languages, have different colour skins, have varying customs and religions and accents. We revel in it. And I write about it. I just write about what I see and hear as objectively as possible. But I'm not a journalist. I prefer juicy memoirs to dry biographies. Am I irreverent and occasionally snarky? Yes. I enjoy a good story, whether I'm reading it or telling it. And I filter what I see through my own experience. Whether I'm writing about the paranoid white pothead or the angry spitting black woman on the train - I try to be as clear about what I heard and saw as possible and let the reader form their own conclusions. The only other option, as I see it, would be not to mention anyone's colour including my own. But that seems deceptive. Besides if readers thought I was black, with my subject matter, I'd get a different kind of hate mail.

In addition to my talking about the colour of people's skin, I discuss their clothes, their hair, their mannerisms, their style, their tattoos and piercings, the perfume they wear, their accents, their apparent age, their apparent economic backgrounds, their moods, what they talk about and how they say it. It all interests me. I'm fascinated by people in general, with all their flaws and brilliant points of light. I will admit that I do have some preconceptions of people, largely upon the way they dress. I'm working on that. So here it is, the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the black, white, brown, yellow of my experience in my corner of New York. Oh, and for more about the R word, here's oreo author, Malcolm Gladwell's, definition of a racist and the extended dialogue that results.

Hoop Dreams

On the M train home from picking up my son from school, a black boy around nine or ten years old came on our car and made an announcement on how he was asking for donations to help his basketball team get new supplies. I never know whether people on the subway, whether they be kids or adults, are really asking for money for the causes they claim. But it's not just the subway panhandlers I'm not so sure about - I also wonder if the money donated to charities just goes into the pockets of the people in charge. So I don't give anything, except to musicians if I think they're good. Besides, never having had much money I've always chosen to give of my time. Since I was fifteen, I've volunteered at food banks, soup kitchens, prepared food for homebound people with AIDS, read to the blind, mentored kids from homeless shelters, tutored low income kids in East Harlem, taught photography at low income schools, and delivered meals to homebound senior citizens.

Big Joe gives money to just about anyone who asks. He figures that if they're asking, they need it, he doesn't care what their reasons are.

Once, a skinny black man stopped me on the way home late one rainy night in Park Slope, giving me a long hard luck story about needing money to get his AIDS medication. He was even crying. He promised to pay me back and gave me his name and address. I offered to get the medication for him, but he told me the drugstore that carried his prescription was in another neighbourhood. So I gave him a hug and ten bucks. Needless to say, the name and address were fake. And years ago I used to give money to homeless people on the street, but a number of times the homeless men used that opportunity to make lewd comments to me. So that was the end of that. But today I got to thinking about the popularity of basketball in our hood and the sad state of the basketball hoops on Bed-Stuy's streets. And it makes me wonder if I should have given this kid some money after all. Or even better, to start a fundraiser to replace the milk crates in our hood with actual hoops. Because the need is clearly there, subway scammers or no.

Bed-Stuy in the News - 6/10 - 6/17

Daoud Abeid and Rasu Jilani use social networking sites to promote their Brooklyn fashion company, Coup D’etat, and compete with much larger designers.
Photo: Showalter for NY Daily News

Often I feel like I have no idea what's going on in my own backyard. In case you don't either, here's a round up of the local news this past week (for the latest on local events check out Bed-Stuy Blog):

June 17, 2009 - Bed-Stuy residents Daoud Abeid and Rasu Jilani of the Brooklyn fashion company, Coup D’etat, discuss their social networking business strategy...NY Daily News

June 16, 2009 - Food and wine tasting benefit at St. John’s Bread and Life soup kitchen on June 24th...NY Times

June 14, 2009 - Condo turned into homeless shelter on Park Ave....NY Daily News

June 13, 2009 - Cash strapped Catholic school scheduled to close may become charter school...NY Daily News

June 13, 2009 - Student shot and killed in gang crossfire at Elk's Plaza Club...NY Daily News

June 12, 2009 - Housing counselor at the Pratt Area Community Council helps local residents with their mortgage problems...NY Times

June 10, 2009 - Couple argue over who stabbed who...NY Post

Pothole Hell

Anyone who drives or bikes or even walks down Broadway leading to the Williamsburg Bridge is aware of the horrendous condition of this street. Potholes and fissures abound - and as we don't have a car - our experience with Broadway has been mostly by bike and by foot. As if biking down this street wasn't already a deathwish - with the deafening noise from the trains overhead and speeding cars who don't believe in sharing this extremely narrow stretch of asphalt with anything so lowly as a non-toxic two wheeler. I've only biked on Broadway a handful of times but there were many moments during those rides that I had to swerve to avoid a pothole and nearly got swiped by an SUV. And just try navigating across this street by foot or with a stroller - I'm surprised more people don't trip in a pothole and get struck down by an impatient vehicle. While it never ceases to amaze me that the intersection next to Woodhull hospital, in addition to being one of the most cracked and pothole ridden parts of Broadway, doesn't even have a wheelchair ramp at the crosswalk. A few years ago, one of our previous roommates actually had a bike accident in front of the hospital. Which, of course, if you're going to have an accident is not a bad place to be.

According to the NY Post, in January of this year, Bloomberg acknowledged that Brooklyn has the "largest number of reported potholes of any borough," and had a photo op in Sheepshead Bay to start off their "their annual pothole filling campaign." I guess he forgot about Broadway though. He claims that in 2002 potholes were filled within a month of being reported but a NYC Comptroller's report from the same year says it took an average of 73 days for them to fill a pothole in Brooklyn. In 2009, Bloomberg says that if you see a pothole, you're supposed to call 311, and that they'll fill them within three days. Really? Yeah right. And Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are real too. We've called 311 about the trash in our playgrounds and about getting trash cans put on the corners of our trash strew neighbourhood - but so far, nothing.

The NY Daily News reported in May this year, that "potholes on two Belt Parkway bridges are so bad they slow traffic to a standstill and cause frequent flat tires." Potholes are so prevalent in New York that there's even attorneys who specialize in 'pothole accidents.' In the meantime, we'll continue biking the long way around. What's an extra 15 minutes travel time compared to instant death by pothole?

Incidentally, in non pothole related news, in 2005, an article in the NY Daily News said that the intersection of Broadway and Myrtle where we take the train everyday, a woman was "mowed down" by a dump truck and killed. This was the first death at this intersection even though Transportation Alternatives reported that "45 pedestrians have been struck by vehicles at the intersection since 1996."

Fight or Flight?

Recently some white newcomers to our block, were gay bashed in front of their brownstone at 9:30 at night. Not surprisingly, they're moving out. I find this even more disturbing than the increase in local muggings that have occurred over the last year or so. Sure, these guys dressed flamboyantly - Big Joe noticed one of them strolling down the street in a pair of hot pink short shorts the other day. But just like a woman who dresses provocatively is not asking to be raped, neither is a lesbian, gay or transgender person asking to get beat up for dressing up. Interestingly, if you look at Bed-Stuy apartment shares on Craigslist, you'll discover that at least half the people who've recently moved to the neighbourhood are gay. Bed-Stuy is the new Chelsea. The new Hell's Kitchen. So what's the answer? Self defense classes? Dressing like a homeboy?

One small solution for one night of the week is the Right Rides program, which is currently offering 'Safe Walk':

Safe Walk is a free service made possible by bike patrol volunteers. Patrols are teams of two or more volunteers who ride their own bikes, wear designated RightRides/Safe Walk Patrol vests, and safely escort callers by walking them to their destination.

Safe Walk is offered to anyone in Bed-Stuy on Friday nights from 11pm-2am. Their dispatch number is: (866) 977- WALK (9255). They're also looking for more volunteers who own bikes.

Lost Pooch - "TANK"

Another lost dog with a killer name - only the naming of this dog doesn't seem in the least ironic considering he's a boxer/rottweiler mix. And considering the breed, the name, the lack of any cutesy collar or sentimental add-ons to this notice, the fact that the owner lives in Canarsie, I'm willing to bet that "Tank" did not belong to a hipster. This is not to say that he is any less loved or missed.

Books on the J,M,Z - 7

10 Shades of Green: Architecture and the Natural World - Peter Buchanan - read by skinny white guy with pomaded hair, pointy boots and gold-rimmed sunglasses. This book is about an exhibit from 2000 that documents 13 sustainably designed projects. From Young Architects Forum:

As designers of the built environment and specifiers of materials, we have an impact—good or bad—on the health of the planet. Yet Buchanan writes that architects still don’t seem to be aware that “the construction and operation of buildings is responsible for nearly half the energy consumed by developed countries.” He thinks that we have some difficult changes to make as a profession and as a culture to live within our means ecologically, which is as true now as it was when he wrote the essay in 2000.

Interesting. We've often thought about turning our brownstone into an eco hut of sorts with solar power, a sustainable roof garden, a bicycle powered washing machine, and sawdust toilets. But thinking about it is as far as we've gotten.

Trust Me - Jeff Abbott - read by gum-chomping Latina with blonde hair in cornrows. Amazon.com's product description reads, "On the new digital battlefront in the war on terror, one man will learn to negotiate the extremely thin line between unconditional trust and unspeakable betrayal." Hmm. Exciting and over the top. Good beach or toilet reading.

Buddha: A Story of Enlightenment - Deepak Chopra - read by white guy with red hair. From Chopra's website: "Deepak Chopra, the preeminent voice of Eastern philosophy in the West, now offers his remarkable insights on the inspiring life of one of the world's most important figures - the Buddha." There was a time in my twenties when I was a huge Deepak Chopra fan and purchased and read every one of his books. Although now I can't recall a single word.

God's Solutions For Your Life - pamphlet read by older Latina with puffy white sneakers. Sounds good, where do I pick this up? Or is this something those skinny white guys with the buzzed hair and pressed suits hand out on subway trains?

In A Cold Sweat - Roy Glenn - read by Latina with double pierced ears wearing four big gold hoop earrings. From Google Books: "In this latest installment in the Mike Black Saga, underworld kingpin Mike Black, still grieving over the brutal murder of his wife, must choose between destroying the people responsible for her death and being a father to his infant daughter." Dramatic, although possibly too upsetting for the beach.

The Cosmic Serpent DNA and the Origins of Knowledge - Jeremy Narby - read by white girl with glasses and two bags of groceries from Whole Foods. From a Q&A with Jeremy Narby by Todd Stewart:

Could you sum up your book "The Cosmic Serpent, DNA and the Origins of Knowledge"?

Research indicates that shamans access an intelligence, which they say is nature's, and which gives them information that has stunning correspondences with molecular biology.

Say what? Definitely not beach or toilet reading. The kind of thing I might have once read to expand my mind. Although these days my mind is so exhausted that expansion is limited.

Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets - David Simon - read by white boy in dirty khakis who dropped a dime bag of weed at his feet, and started visibly sweating as he quickly tried to surreptitiously retrieve it. From an interview with the author on Reason OnLine: "The product of 12 months immersed in the Baltimore homicide unit, it was quickly acclaimed as a classic of contemporary journalism and soon inspired a TV series, NBC's Homicide: Life on the Street (1993-1999)." Very interesting. I just might pick this one up (hey, if it's good enough for a dirty white pothead, it's good enough for me.)

The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand - read by white boy with button down shirt, tie and sweater vest, black and white striped socks and shiny black patent leather shoes. From the Ayn Rand Bookstore: "An intransigently independent architect refuses to compromise his standards in work and in life. The Fountainhead is an uncompromising examination of the virtue of individualism." Another one of those books I read in my twenties, attempting to improve my mind, and expand my horizons.

Watchmen - Alan Moore (Author), Dave Gibbons (Illustrator) and John Higgins (colorist) - read by Latino hipster with 60's beatnik goatee and plaid vans. This is a classic 12 issue graphic novel, from Wikipedia:

Watchmen takes place in an alternate history United States where superheroes emerged in the 1940s and 1960s, helping the United States to win the Vietnam War. The country is edging closer to a nuclear war with the Soviet Union, freelance costumed vigilantes have been outlawed and most costumed superheroes are in retirement or working for the government. The story focuses on the personal development and struggles of the protagonists as an investigation into the murder of a government sponsored superhero pulls them out of retirement.

It was made into a recent film, a fact that the author, Alan Moore, is not too pleased about. From an interview with the L.A. Times:

"I find film in its modern form to be quite bullying," Moore told me during an hour-long phone call from his home in England. "It spoon-feeds us, which has the effect of watering down our collective cultural imagination. It is as if we are freshly hatched birds looking up with our mouths open waiting for Hollywood to feed us more regurgitated worms. The 'Watchmen' film sounds like more regurgitated worms. I for one am sick of worms. Can't we get something else? Perhaps some takeout? Even Chinese worms would be a nice change."

I find his vitriolic opinion to be far more interesting than the description on Wikipedia and makes me want to check this comic book out.

Black Cat - V.C. Andrews - read by a black woman with hair tied back in a chic bun and mid calf pointy boots. From the Complete V.C. Andrews Library:

Living a life of lies under the thumb of her widowed, spiritually-obsessed mother, Celeste has been forced to take on the identity of her dead twin brother, Noble. She's almost forgotten what it's like to be Celeste -- except for the one thing that keeps her sane: caring for her darling daughter, Baby Celeste. But when Celeste's mother marries a kindly neighbor, a new breed of poisonous secrets and vicious enemies will force Celeste to do what she must -- to survive the darkness....

Whoa. Even more bathroom/beach reading. The list is endless! I grew into puberty with V.C. Andrews and her Flowers in the Attic series, which every girl in my Catholic elementary school read. What I remember most from those books were the erotic scenes of incest between the brother and sister. In fact I think that was what I liked best about the series. See what religious oppression can do to a person?

Faces in the Neighbourhood

Garden Helpers

Sunshine and love.

Axe wielding gnomes.

Angels and farming hogs wearing overalls.

Part of Bed-Stuy's Musical History - Charlie's Records

When we passed this music store on Fulton Street, I was entranced by the window, and my gut told me that there was more to this place than met the eye. As any Caribbean and/or hip hop music lover could probably tell you, turns out this famous record shop was started by the music producer Rawlston Charles. From Caribbean Beat:

Charles was born in Tobago, moving to Trinidad when he was 15. Shortly after that, he migrated to the United States, where he got involved in the automobile business, repairing, buying and selling cars. The transition from this lucrative enterprise to the shaky ground of the music arena came gradually and quite by chance. Nowhere in his plans did Charles ever intend to become involved with the recording industry—the closest he had ever come to musical activities had been as a member of the church choir during his teens.

“I arrived in New York on December 12, 1967, and got into the auto business, which was going very well. I ended up in this music thing after going out to parties in the 1960s and hardly hearing any calypso. In fact you weren’t hearing any of it at all, and I became disturbed and very annoyed over this, because I could not understand how Trinis could be socialising and we are not hearing our music being played. The Jamaicans would walk with their own music and give to the DJ to play, but it was very hard to even get calypso in those times.”

Charles had travelled to the US with his copy of Kitchener’s 1967 album. He began to add to his calypso collection, and would take his records with him whenever he went liming or partying on weekends. Eventually he started to DJ at these events and things just took off.

“I don’t even know why I walked onto the plane with that Kitchener album under my arm. I was young at the time and did not really listen to much calypso, but I took up that album and brought it to America with me, not knowing at the time that it was probably a symbol of what my calling would be.”

It was very hard to get calypso records, but as a DJ Charles would not play any other music. Calypso records also cost more, as they had to be imported into the US.So Charles opened his own record store, on July 4,1972, and the next year he began to travel back to Trinidad to make contact with calypsonians and bandleaders, get their music and take it back to the States. Next he became an executive producer and started Charlie’s Records. The first production on the label was an album entitled Labor Day in Brooklyn with Mano Marcellin—which didn’t even sell 100 copies. This did not stop Charles, who admitted that at the time he knew nothing of the music business, so he set out to get it right by connecting with the right people.

Not only is Rawlston a music producer but he housed up and coming musicians - not unlike George Whitman of the English bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, has been doing for young writers in Paris since the 1950's:

“I fixed up a building I owned and put in rooms with all amenities, calling the place Calypso House and inviting the calypsonians to stay there at no charge—not only those who recorded on the label, but any calypsonian seeking lodging.”
Charles built and opened his recording studio in 1984. It was used not only by calypso and soca artistes, but also some of the biggest names in the East Coast hip-hop fraternity, such as Dougie Fresh, Slick Rick, and RUN-DMC.

He continued to do what he could for his community, in 1995 the NY Daily News reported that Rawlston asked "Caribbean singers and musicans to cut a benefit album called "We are the Caribbean," to "help their (Caribbean) countrymen recover from the devastation left in the wake of Hurricane Luis." And there are more articles too numerous to mention about Rawlston's continued patronage and generosity. Next time we pass by I'll have to pop in and take a look inside, and maybe even be lucky enough to have a chat with the famous Rawlston Charles.

Mind Your Manners or Swine Flu Fear

Stained glass window - Myrtle Ave. subway station on the J,M,Z

So the other day Little Joe and I were taking the J train to Queens to see the community mural that Big Joe had just completed. It was raining and the train was filled with dripping, steamy commuters on their way home to Brooklyn and Queens after a long day's work in Manhattan. Luckily my son and I had scored seats and were quietly enjoying the ride. I love the J,M,Z because it's above ground and you actually get to see parts of Brooklyn and Queens you'd never see otherwise.

Suddenly the voice of a shrunken, nearly toothless, black woman, wearing a gold lame shirt and a red wool blazer, rose above the clanking of the train and the low murmur of other people's conversations. She sat across from us and was speaking loudly to someone on our side of the train, who was hidden from view by our fellow seatmates.

4 a.m. I'm up getting ready for work. 4 A.M. 5 a.m. I'm getting the bus. You sleeping. Maybe at 6 a.m. you turning over. 6 a.m. I'm already at work. 6 A.M. THAT'S NO JOKE. I take the train this morning and a homeboy's sitting there (she pointed at the seat to her left). He's talking to his friends and coughing. And he doesn't cover his mouth! And all these people on the train, they don't say nothing! I tell him he better cover his mouth. And he says, 'We got a bonafide crazy woman here.' And I say, 'That's right I'm crazy, you better cover your mouth.' (Then she turned to the two black children sitting to her right and said, 'Cover your ears.' She pointed at their mother who was standing and laughing, and said louder, 'Cover their ears!' which their mother half- heartedly told them to do) So I say, 'You better cover your mouth or I'M GONNA CUT OFF YOUR DICK AND FRY IT UP FOR DINNER!' (she screamed out this last part spraying saliva across the aisle) When I was a child I learned my manners real fast. I was beat every day with a belt, with a switch. I knew to cover my mouth when I had to cough.

Then the man to whom she was talking, who had been murmuring in agreement with everything she was saying, said, "I know. I was brought up old school too. If I didn't learn my manners I got the iron rope. The IRON ROPE!" he said, and stood up to get off the train. That was when I finally saw him, he was a black man in his late thirties and his face was completely covered in long thin scars. As he exited the train, the toothless woman said, "You have a good day now!" And then for the rest of ride she was silent and stared at the floor. I was torn between feeling sympathy for this woman and the hard life she must have had and being terrified, especially after she caught me laughing and gave me the evil eye. While Little Joe just said, "That was nice what that lady said at the end. But it wasn't nice when she was yelling."

On the train back to Bed-Stuy, there was a black woman preacher striding up and down the aisle, who had this amazing warm smile as she preached her fire and brimstone sermon. Usually subway preachers make me cringe, but her delivery actually made me listen with interest.

Look what people miss when they drive to work. Yet another reason to take public transport.

You've Got Mail

PLEASE SORT MAIL INTO THE APPROPRIATE BOXES, THANKS.
Only there appears to be just one mailbox and it is sadly dented and unable to receive mail of any kind.

Fancy.

Charming, albeit rusty.

Not the most exciting visually, I just like this person's name. You can never have too much self esteem.

When we first moved in there was an unlocked metal mailbox nailed to the outside of the house. As this didn't seem too safe, Big Joe put a mail slot through the downstairs door. Only this door leads to the area under the stoop which tends to fill up with puddles when it rains and everyone's mail got rather soggy. So then Big Joe built a wooden box and it attached it to the inside of the door below the mail slot. However, whenever a largish letter or catalogue has to be inserted it refuses to go in. Our mail carrier, an older black woman who always looks tired and grumpy, is less than pleased with our mail box situation and has told us so, in no uncertain terms, on several occasions. Often when I see her half way down the block, I will sit on the stoop and wait for her to arrive so she doesn't have to struggle with our defective mailbox.

Big Joe has far too much on his plate at the moment to build a new mailbox. If I could fix this problem myself I would. But I'm not too handy with a saw, let alone a hammer and nail. I'm afraid I'm rather on the girly side in that respect. A part of my character that hasn't gone unnoticed by our four year old. Big Joe has been out of town for the past few nights and Little Joe has been unable to sleep. He says he's afraid of "bad guys breaking into our house." And that he only feels safe when "Dad's home because he has muscles." So much for all my work on not reinforcing gender stereotypes.

Meanwhile, Back in Brooklyn...

Will someone please tell me what the f#@& the people at the Department of Education (DOE) do all day? Are they all power-tripping? Do any of them have kids in the public school system? Are they on drugs? Are they enjoying this mess they've created?

Lucky for us, Little Joe got back into the charter school in Manhattan that we love. But no thanks to the DOE. And since this mess began I'd been thinking, if only I'd known before we sent in our Kindergarten applications about the new "No Out of District Kids" rule, then I'd have applied to charter schools in Brooklyn.

The Brooklyn charter school closest to our house that we applied to in 2008 for Pre-K, kept our son's name for their kindergarten lottery, and sent us a letter in April saying he didn't make the cut. Then yesterday we received another letter from them that reads as follows:

Dear Ms._______

On Wednesday April 8, ______sent you a letter informing you of the results of our admissions lottery for the 2009-10 kindergarten class. Pursuant of a change in the Charter Law two years ago, our admissions system now gives preference to students residing within the school's Department of Education school district, District 14. Therefore we hold two lotteries one for in district or preference students and another one for out of district students. During the lottery held on Tuesday April 7, 2009, your child's name was put in the in district or preference lottery based on district information from the DOE website.

We subsequently were notified by the DOE, however, that the mapping database provided as a reference for our use produced incorrect or misleading results for residents of certain zip codes and that your family does not in fact reside within the school's home district. We therefore are required to change the waitlist place for your child and will be conducting a parallel lottery to determine his or her new position....

Did y'all get that? The DOE's own mapping database gave the schools incorrect results. That's just brilliant. Why do we even have a DOE anyway?

Breaking Bike News - Lit Fuse Cyclery

So along with the hipsters to northern Bed-Stuy, comes new bars, organic food in the bodegas, lost pets, and hurray! a badly needed bike shop. We actually passed this place during the winter months and I meant to check it out, then promptly forgot about it - seeing as it was too cold for me to bike with my kid, and then with the coming of spring my raging hayfever made biking unbearable. But now - the weather has warmed up, the tree pollen is settling and this afternoon Little Joe and I had a wonderful bike ride over to Sahadi's on Atlantic for their scrumptious and cheap spanokopita. On the way back I saw that Lit Fuse Cyclery (LFC) had a sandwich board on the sidewalk and decided it was time to check the place out. Unfortunately my son had fallen asleep in the bike seat and it's nearly impossible to me to carry him up the bike shop's stairs in the bike - nor could I leave him outside Danish style. So I'm back to my usual mode of research - the internet.

According to the blog at Portland Design Works, Damian, the owner of LFC, is a former Portland bike messenger. But even more personal details and photos of the bike shop's genesis is on Lit Fuse Cyclery's blog, aside from learning that Damian (who's white) and his lady (who looks Asian) just had a baby boy, there was this intriguing bit of history:

Abandoned chicken down-feather plant in Clinton Hill. 4 story red-brick warehouse building at 409 willoughby avenue. Mortar is turning to dust from age and abuse inside and out. Floors of massive timbers hewn from the 19th century old-growth forests of New England. These ancient forests nurtured strong and long-lasting timbers that are the back-bone of the building. Years of abuse and neglect turned this noble down feather sanitizing factory into a dangerously dusty, filthy, rat-infested, mess with dead pipes covering the ceiling; covered in feather dust and chicken lice exoskeletons and rat fecal chloroform dust. The basement was like something out of Saw with the exception that the saw movie sets were much cleaner and didn't have the sheer volume of dusty trash. In the real world when old factories are abandoned they sell the valuable heavy machinery and replace them with their trash.

All the drain pipes leaked into the basement, there is still a swamp there after we fixed most of the leaks in the plumbing. But the amazing thing was when we started to remove the garbage. It kicked up a feather/dust storm. It was like a blizzard with muddy rivers in the basement. We took several tons of metals to the scrap yard and over 90 cubic yards of dust heavy garbage. Those dumpsters aren't cheap so we squeezed every last drop out of each cubic yard.(read more...)

Also on their blog is this photo of the interior of the shop.

I have to say I was irked that they identified themselves as being located in neighbouring Clinton Hill, when they're officially in Bed-Stuy but as the borders do get re-mapped over the years - I'll forgive them that glaring error. Reviewers on Yelp.com give LFC five stars. And if being started by a Portland bike messenger isn't hipsterish enough for you, according to last.fm, there's to be a benefit BBQ at LFC on July 4th with the following hipster bands: Japanther, The Death Set, Ninjasonik, Muhammad Ali, Ghost Mall and DJ EphYou. Which of course means, they certainly won't need my endorsement with the hipster bike geeks that will be swarming the place come summer. However, I'm endorsing them all the same, even though we'll still probably keep going to our favourite bike mechanic in Bushwick (you wouldn't switch from your favourite doctor just because another one started a practice in your hood, now would you?). Welcome to the neighbourhood and congrats on your new baby.

Lit Fuse Cyclery
409 Willoughby Ave (between Spencer and Walworth)
Brooklyn, NY 11205
Tel: (347) 442-1672
Hours: Sunday-Friday 11-7
Saturday 12-8
www.litfusecyclery.com

A new bike shop, more bike lanes, what next will be coming to our hood? Radical bike locks at the train station? Check out the ones we saw during our last trip to Albuquerque, NM.

I'm not quite sure how these babies work, but they look damn secure.

*Lexie from Living in The Stuy just reminded me about Fulton Bikes for cyclists in need on the southern end of Bed-Stuy:

Fulton Bicycles
1580 Fulton St (at Marcus Garvey Blvd)
Brooklyn, NY 11213
Tel: (718) 778-2887

Recession Survival Fair

I don't know who took this shot originally, but I discovered it on New York Blog Academy from their post "Recession Breeds New Bloggers"

Queens resident, Norm Elrod, who writes the blog Jobless and Less about his struggles with unemployment, is helping out at this Bed-Stuy event for all New Yorkers in need which takes place this weekend:

The Recession Survival Fair will be a non-partisan community service event to assist Brooklyn and New York City residents in tackling the challenges springing from the economic recession. Attendees will have free access to important information and professional help on a range of relevant topics, including healthcare, food and nutrition, job search, debt and personal finance, and tenants’ rights and foreclosure. DKMS, the world's largest bone marrow donor center, will also be conducting a drive for potential donor matches. All help will be provided free of charge, although participants will also be invited to offer their own expertise to the community in exchange.

Who: Brooklyn for Barack in association with The Stuyvesant Heights Parents Association
What: Recession Survival Fair, to provide professional info and help to Brooklyn and New York City residents hurt by the economic recession
When: Saturday, June 6, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Where: Mount Lebanon Baptist Church, 230 Decatur St. (near Lewis Ave.) in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn
How: Subway: A, C to Utica Ave; Bus: B15 to Bainbridge Street; B25, B26 to Lewis Avenue; B43, B46 to MacDonough Street.

For more information, please email: continuethechange@gmail.com

Sounds worth checking out. They could also use more volunteers - email above.

Lost Canine - "Sonnet"

LOST DOG
PUG/BEAGLE MIX

Short brown hair/Small size (about 35lbs) Floppy ears
Green collar (lost tag) Lost Monday night 5/11/09 Her name is "Sonnet"
$300 REWARD
PLEASE CALL IF YOU HAVE SEEN HER

When I first moved to Bed-Stuy almost five years ago, I never saw any 'lost pet' flyers, and the only pets I ever saw were pit bulls. But in the past year with the onslaught of hipster newcomers, there's been an adjoining bevy of lost dogs and cats. Mind you, this is by the Myrtle train station on the border of Bushwick - so they may be all from Bushwick. Anyway here's another, and this dog looks awfully sweet - I hope they find her.

Cleaning Day

Car Culture - 8

This SUV club has a killer image.

And a club house to match. With many many trophies.

The disco church truck, check out those speakers.

Classic hand car wash sign.

The owner of this custom painted beauty definitely goes for the hand wash over the drive through. The license plate reads "1crzypny" (one crazy puerto rican new yorker?).

While this poor car, probably once very loved, sits in benign neglect.