Special Monday "Musings on Greenpoint and My Own Lost Youth" Edition
Well, we've been in the new apartment for a couple of weeks now, long enough to begin to get a feel for both the place itself and the neighborhood as a whole. I guess I'm pretty content so far, too -- as noted previously the apartment has an appealing view of Manhattan (I took the picture on the left here last night), and the neighbors seem to be pleasant and quiet. Living above a main thoroughfare, however, makes things a bit louder. Street noise -- trucks, car alarms, people hollering -- is a constant (and not, of course, unexpected), though I'd imagine it'll be less noticeable in the cooler weather when we keep the windows closed. In any event, I'm kind of getting used to it. But I like the neighborhood, although because I don't speak Polish I'm not sure what half the signs and storefronts say. I was thinking, though, of picking up a Polish phrasebook (a little one, like a tourist would buy before a trip to Warsaw or something), and maybe trying to learn a few words. You know, so I could impress the nice girls down at the donut shop when I order an iced coffee or whatever.
Speaking of local stuff, we never did get to see the music at McCarren Park last night. After errands and putting away groceries and eating leftover chana masala for dinner, we walked the few blocks down to the park, but apparently just missed the concert. Instead, we were greeted by a tsunami of hipsters, as if some mad scientist with a huge cloning machine tucked away inside the McCarren Park pool was turning loose an unholy army of slim twenty-somethings clad in chunky glasses, ironic t-shirts and artfully tousled hair. Oh well. It was a beautiful evening and the people-watching was great as we circumambulated the outskirts of the park, and I was eventually able to relive my own younger, hipper days once we returned home by popping in the DVD of We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen, which arrived just the other day via Netflix. They were one of my favorite bands when I was younger, and it's a pretty good documentary, but watching it made me feel really old -- especially when I realized that it's been over twenty years now since D. Boon (the band's singer and guitarist) died in an automobile accident. Wow.
Oh well. I'm taking today off from running, but using the extra time to jump back into full-time dissertation-writing mode after goofing off for several weeks. In any event I'll be back on the road tomorrow. Meanwhile, here are some more pictures from last week. Hope you enjoy them.
At a playground on Avenue V
Empty lot on Dumont Avenue, Brownsville