CityStories

Attention Carmen Sanchez. Your ID has been found.

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 22:00:05 -0500

Attention Carmen Sanchez. Your ID has been found.

First flowers blooming at Brooklyn Botanic.

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 10:30:00 -0500

First flowers blooming at Brooklyn Botanic.

Secret park, between BK Botanic Gardens and the library. Lots of...

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 10:00:06 -0500

Secret park, between BK Botanic Gardens and the library. Lots of dogs.

nyccouncil: 2/23/12 Broadway and 77th Street Council Member...

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 09:27:11 -0500

nyccouncil:

2/23/12

Broadway and 77th Street

Council Member Gale Brewer is greeted by the owner of Big Nick’s restaurant during the 50th anniversary celebration of this Upper West Side eatery.

Photo Credit: William Alatriste

Ah! I walked by last night around 8:30 and there was a line a block long. I was so confused-“this place is cool and all but if I wanted to wait in line for an hour for a burger, I’d go to Shake Shack.”

Take a bow

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 22:28:00 -0500

Just a few moments after I walked out of the church, ashes on my forehead, a woman with two children in tow stopped me in my path and yelled out to the kids, “Take a bow!”

I turned to see what she might be referring to but there was no one else there. Was she bowing to my ashes? I know New York is a secular place, but surely running into someone who celebrates this holiday isn’t that unusual.

Then she pointed at the empty storefront behind us, curtseyed, and motioned to the kids. “H&H. The great bagel place. It used to be here.”

“Oh!” I sputtered, realizing I was still looking at her and her bewildered kids. “Yeah, it was pretty great. I miss it.”

She nodded at me. “It’s too bad it’s gone.”

We both kept looking at each other for an awkward moment too long before she put her hand behind one of the boy’s backs and gently pushed him to keep walking.

"I’ve done it on the subway and at the Museum of Modern Art, in Prospect Park, Tompkins Square Park..."

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 13:00:05 -0500

“

I’ve done it on the subway and at the Museum of Modern Art, in Prospect Park, Tompkins Square Park and leaning against the locked gate of Gramercy Park.

If you live in New York, you’re bound to end up crying in public eventually; there just aren’t enough private places. Just the other day I saw someone doing it on West 12th Street. A tall woman in a beret, with a curtain of reddish hair, she had tears streaming down her cheeks. She wasn’t on the phone, wasn’t accompanied by a man, or a mom or even a dog. She wasn’t beautiful, the way a lot of people in New York are, but I couldn’t look away.

”

- Look at Me, I’m Crying - NYTimes (via rachelinbrooklyn)

{From the draft file … }

It isn’t just that there aren’t enough private places. In New York, you are inches from numerous people most of the time. The routines of daily life — getting to work, eating, exercising, running errands — all involve being physically close to lot of strangers.

As a defense to all that closeness, New York teaches you to create a bubble for yourself. When I step off an airplane in NYC, the change is immediate. (Absent conscious attempts to behave differently) I revert from curiously engaging with my surroundings to zipping through, eyes straight ahead, anticipating and reacting to the next obstacle in my path. It’s what distinguishes the tourists from the New Yorkers. Go to Times Square and observe; you’ll spot the New Yorkers by their apparent obliviousness to anything but people and objects getting in their way.

And because of that bubble, New York rids you of shame. The boundary between what you would do in private and what you would do in public blurs. You feel freedom to do things in public that you might have previously reserved mostly for private — crying, applying makeup, kissing. Safe in your bubble, it’s almost like no one sees or hears.

And so, rid of shame, when, while waiting for your order at Five Guys in the middle of Manhattan on a Saturday evening, you learn that your grandmother will likely die in the next few days, you will tear up at Five Guys in the middle of Manhattan on a Saturday evening.

And when the tears prompt an untapped well of emotion about your grandma’s passing, you will allow the tears to progress to sobs, until there is mascara all over your face.

And when the bathroom has a line, you will prop your mirror on the NesCafe Iced Tea dispenser next to the napkins and salt packets and straws and wipe off the makeup.

And if someone approaches the NesCafe Iced Tea dispenser to procure some tea while you are still wiping off the makeup, you will acknowledge them, if at all, with a glare that says, “Can’t you see I’m using this right now?”

Nobody to front of Modell’s in record time. If only we...

Fri, 17 Feb 2012 14:29:08 -0500

Nobody to front of Modell’s in record time. If only we could put that kind of efficiency into pressing world problems.

Consuming Washington Avenue

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 13:00:05 -0500

Consuming Washington Avenue :

neighborhoodr-prospectheights:

super excited that there has been recent buzz on our ‘hoods influx of food and drink spots. there’s so much to enjoy around here!

I’m torn between the thrill of living on the best block in NYC and the selfish desire to keep it on the low. For now, my sense of generosity wins out; come and visit!

Just some normal cafe chatter

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 12:15:50 -0500

Barista: So are you really into puppets?

Customer: I mean, not really _hardcore_ . . .

That subway seat dance:

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 13:00:06 -0500

1. It becomes obvious the person directly in front of me is exiting. I wait for the person to gather their bags and prepare to sit.

2. As I’m graciously allowing the former occupant to stand, a girl (literally) dashes across the train and slips into the seat. Her father nods in approval. They’re each carrying numerous plastic bags.

3. I glare at the girl, then remember the recent NY Times article about the hidden homeless and momentarily feel bad. What if she rose at 4 AM to leave her homeless shelter and attend school 3 transfers away? She should sit.

4. An additional seat opens, which I take. It is between an obese woman taking up 1.75 seats and an a small teenage girl sleeping with her head smushed against a pole, half her body tipping to the other side of the pole and toward my shoulders.

5. A woman with a heavy backpack and two additional bags — one contains a coffee mug, so even though it’s 10 PM, she’s probably been out all day — sees the .25 of a seat between myself and the obese woman. I try to move over toward the sleeping teenager to make room, but more of the sleeping teenager shifts toward me.

6. I make eye contact with the woman and shrug in apology. Our eyes dart from obese woman to sleeping woman to that tiny fraction of a seat. You could put your bags down? I say. It’s ok, she replies.

7. I make eye contact with a woman reading what looks like a smart book on the other side of the train. She surveys the situation then meets my eyes again. We both start laughing.

8. A very small woman enters the train and approaches the .25 of a seat. The obese woman moves over, freeing just enough space to sit. The woman with the backpack sighs, visibly.

9. The woman with the smart book and I meet eyes again and laugh again. The sleeping girl tilts perilously close to my lap.

10. The woman with the book gets up and the woman with the backpack gets her seat.

11. The sleeping girl wakes up with a start, then noticeably starts reading the magazine I’m reading over my shoulder. I glance up at her, her face creased with nap wrinkles, and she grins sheepishly. I fold out the magazine so she can see better. She keeps reading, then gets off at the next stop.

She just lets him try

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 17:33:54 -0500

A boy about two feet tall is walking with a woman. They pass a staircase with two metal hand rails. The boy stops and stares at the rails, then climbs onto the first step, wraps his entire little body around one rail, and pulls with all his might. The woman doesn’t scold or rush him; she just lets him try.

It only takes him a minute to cease trying to pry the rail from the cement. He unwinds from the rail, takes the woman’s hand, and they keep walking.

PSA: Housing Works Bookstore Cafe: This romantic week at Housing Works Bookstore Cafe

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 11:24:11 -0500

PSA: Housing Works Bookstore Cafe: This romantic week at Housing Works Bookstore Cafe:

OK that’s true, should have known Housing Works Bookstore Cafe could be counted on for a good time on V-day, if you know what I mean.

housingworksbookstore:

We’ve got great stuff for everyone this week. Illustration by Andrea Sparacio.

Tonight! Safe Space with James Wood and Jeremy Denk. I am so excited about this event. There is a GRAND FREAKIN’ PIANO in the middle of the store right now. Doors at 6:30, piano playing starts at 7:30….

Click through for the full schedule in non-adorable graphic form.

PSA: POWER BALLADS SING-ALONG

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 11:19:50 -0500

PSA: POWER BALLADS SING-ALONG:

This is the best NYC Valentine’s Day idea I’ve seen so far. Did I miss something better?

etceterawhatever:

Power ballads sing-along.

Pretty much my ideal valentine’s day. I have a soccer game at 9ish but maybe post-game I can take advantage of the following awesomeness:

Air Guitar Competition

Power Ballads Costume Contest (dress up as an 80’s or 90’s rock god, R&B star or badass 80’s girl)

Best “Worst Break Up” Story Contest

Prizes including a pair of tickets to The Awesome 80’s Prom at Webster Hall!

Themed drinks including the Eternal Flame, Kiss From a Rose, More Than Words, and Love Bites

Free Valentine Heart Candy!

I can’t handle how fun this sounds.

PSA!

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:00:06 -0500

All I really want is a compost open more than 1x/week so my freezer doesn’t get all crowded with old onion peels and egg shells. Granted this isn’t my borough but hopefully many of you will benefit.

This may be a good motivator for me to finish the song I made up about dropping off my compost at the Grand Army Plaza farmers’ market last week. I call it “Brooklyn Boy at the Farmers Market.” If you remember the great hits of yesteryear, like Hipster Boy at the Gym and Every Time I Think About You it Makes Me Sneeze, you really have something to get excited about it.

scottmstringer:

Compost delivers enormous environmental benefits, increasing the nutrient content and moisture retention of soil and eliminating the need for chemical fertilizers. Composting turns food and yard waste, which make up 20% of residential waste, into something that can be used to nourish gardens that beautify our city.

If you’d like to start a composting program in your neighborhood, my office might be able to help. For the second year I am partnering with the Manhattan Solid Waste Advisory Board (SWAB) and Citizens Committee of New York City to offer grants for community, small-scale composting initiatives.

Under the program, grants of up to $750 will be awarded in 2012 to community groups to start or grow neighborhood composting programs. Groups eligible for funding include community associations, community gardens, friends of park groups, housing development organizations, nonprofits, public schools, colleges and universities, hospitals and private businesses.

Learn how to apply at my website, at mbpo.org/composting.

One small ride for this cycylist; one giant leap for bicycle - vehicle relations:

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 13:00:05 -0500

It was one of those awkward stop signs where a bike turning right has to cross in front of a car, also turning right, to stay in the bike lane. We arrived at the stop sign at the same time, and since I had to cross in front of the car, I assumed he’d go first.

I turned to look at him, but he just waved me to go. As I did, I waved back to signal a thanks.

Halfway down the block he caught up to me. “Miss!” I heard his voice yell out his rolled-down window. I stopped and turned to see. “Miss!” he called again. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no!” I said, and he cut me off before I could explain.

“I like bikes,” he said, “I respect y’all. I just want to make sure I didn’t do something wrong.”

“Oh no,” I said, “you didn’t do anything wrong! I appreciated you letting me go, and I was just waving to thank you.”

“Ok!” he replied, “good. Just making sure. I respect bikes. Y’all stay safe out there!”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s nice of you.”

And he waved goodbye and told me to take care before rolling up his window and continuing down the block.

"I used to steal t-shirts two sizes too big for me. I’d just take them, even though they were,..."

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 20:03:27 -0500

“I used to steal t-shirts two sizes too big for me. I’d just take them, even though they were, like, legit huge. I didn’t care, I didn’t have time.”

- pretentious West Village teenage boy to his clique

We tryin' to keep it quiet.

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 12:40:12 -0500

Three boys in their late teens boarded the train together. One pushed a large cart, full of crates mostly covered with cloth. Another rolled an enormous hard suitcase. One carried a cardboard pizza box, and dispersed slices once the other two were settled.

A few minutes into the ride, I saw a small white nose protrude from a space in the bottom crate, which didn’t have a lid, just another crate on top.

The nose peeked out a bit further and made a noise, drawing the attention of the one manning the cart. He leaned down and lifted the cloth, just enough to reveal about five small bodies in the crates, and whispered something to the animal.

He saw me staring and put his finger to his mouth in a “don’t say anything” symbol, then mouthed, “white rats.”

No one else seemed to notice, so I didn’t say anything, for fear I’d unleash panic in the car, and panic would only make things worse.

But someone else noticed a few minutes later and asked what they were doing.

“Shhh,” the boy said. “We tryin’ to keep it quiet.” He looked at his buddies and they all giggled.

But the next time one of the creatures stuck its nose out again, a woman right next to the cart caught sight of it. She bolted out of her seat and sprinted, screeching, to the other end of the subway car.

The rest of the passengers stared at the woman; slid over to seats further from the cart, if available; and stared at the boys, more bemused than scared or angry. The boys just laughed.

And I still wonder what was in the enormous suitcase.

adriennes: I love this ad campaign we’ve been working on at...

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 15:00:05 -0500

adriennes:

I love this ad campaign we’ve been working on at Carnegie Hall.

It’s nice to see some positive feedback about it on Flickr this week!

(image via DitMartian on Flickr)

Sounds like just my type.

tiabird: Here’s some awesome graffiti I stumbled upon in...

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 13:00:05 -0500

tiabird:

Here’s some awesome graffiti I stumbled upon in Bushwick on the way to see my friend read at the Bodega Wine Bar on Sunday.

everything about this.

I should have told that guy who wanted to end things, because I...

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 15:00:06 -0500

I should have told that guy who wanted to end things, because I was religious and he wasn’t and how would we raise our children? — after four dates! — about the benefits of religious commitment!

{Forsyth & Delancey.}