You know you live in the hood when...

Many people say Bushwick is an up and coming neighborhood, I was reminded today of just how coming it really is.

Between the hours of 4:00 and 5:00 PM on a Saturday afternoon, what must have  the ghetto equivalent of the NASCAR pit crew hoisted my neighbors car on blocks and removed his wheels without a single person noticing.

I can't imagine how a group of youths could swoop into action and without a single person noticing.

Welcome to life in the hood.

Signs you live in the hood.

There are a number of things that exist in the hood that are not found other places. If you can recognize these items you will greatly enhance you chances of survival.

The bodega is the life blood of any under privileged or otherwise financially anemic neighborhood and often is the only place where a member of the community can obtain sustenance and 'nutrition'.

The bodega often offers food group much different than that found in the USDA food pyramid and often are separated by color such asa the yellow or blue food groups or by price. $.25 cent is perhaps the most often consumed food group of the bodega and includes items such as the quarter chips, water, muffin, exec.

Above a photo of the 'quarter water', generally the only form of fluid of the non alcoholic nature that is affordable by the general popular of the hood. The quarter water is generally available by color and often lack more description than that. The above featured item is comprised of water, High Frutos Corn Syrup, Citric Acid, Sodium Phosphate, FD&C Blue #1 & Sodium Benzoate (to protect flavor).

Regardless of color, the quarter water tastes exactly the same, like cough medicine.

Christmas comes twice a year.

Fourth of July is like a second christmas in the hood. People save up their money for half the year, drive on down to Pensilvania and load up on fireworks. Only problem is, they shoot them off in the street. In many places in PA this is not an issues as people have lots of space, but in brooklyn, we have a population density of ,920/mi² (according to the 2010 censes). With a population density that great, almost all building are connected by necessity to house that many people. Once one house goes up you can almost bet two or more are to follow suite in this summer heat.

So happy second Christmas to you Bushwick, you deserve it. Lets just hope you don't torch my house when blowing your wad because we all know there is no pressure in the fire cans as you are using them as a ghetto swimming pool (likely another post regarding the ghetto shower in the future, summer is still young).

Fucken 'eh Brooklyn

The Bushwick Ghetto Blaster. Down the street from my house this is a throwback to the 80's when life was not so nice in Bushwick. According to historians, during the crack epidemic of the 80's and 90's, people would torch building just to get the copper piping to recycle for their crack addiction. I am told that ever 3rd lot was empty and one in four houses was a crack den where not only could one buy their warez but also consume them.

Best find of the week, the new east river ferry service form brooklyn - queens and manhattan. Free for the next week to boot. 15 minuets form manhattan to williamsberg.



Last but not least, the Lee Burgess roof top party at 47 Tames in the East Williamsberg Industrial Complex. Found by a sheer fluke, that party was epic and apparently will be happening once a month for the rest of the summer.

Tales from the hood

The Man Who Cried Mommy.

Living in the hood you have to get use to the fact that life is different than that of your native environment, but every now and then something catches you of guard.

Every 6 weeks or so the southing sound of "MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY, MOM, MOMMY" fills the air outside my window. Upon further investigation and a sneak peak out the window or over the veranda, the perpetrator is alway the same. A late twenties to early thirties hispanic male of painfully average height and wight, lacking any significant features what so ever. I suppose it is the fact that he is so remarkable unnoticeable that I often forget my twice quarterly serenader is.

Given this day in age I am still taken aback but by the fact that a grown man will stand on the sidewalk for sometimes up an hour screaming for his mother. I often wonder what message must be of such importance that he will shamelessly stand out in the cold like a child lost in the shopping mall desperate to get her attention. If there is this much information of such great importance needling to be conveyed to her; wouldn't a cell phone be a much easer option?

Suppose I will never fully understand the little differences between myself and the natives, but if nothing else, I suppose it will continue to provide for entertainment value if nothing else.

Tales from the hood

For those who have never lived in the hood, it isnt that much different from your own neighborhood. We have our nosey neighbors, the loud guy across the street or even the lady with 100 cats.

What is different in the hood form the rest of the world is how people go about doing thing, everyday common sense things.

There are far to many of an example to rattle off in one sitting so I have decided to devote a article theme to chronicling them as I run across them.

So, whit out further adue. The first installment of Tales from the Hood.

My local chinese restaurant is quite the interesting place. It is not everyday that you come across a chinese joint with bullet proof glass, much less one who also has a "spanish" menu to bout. My curiosity must have gotten the better of me on the way home form the local ghetto mart, a popular supermarket chain that can be found in almost any hood in the north east. Anyway, after looking at the menu I decided to opt for the "Chickin Sanduwit", as I tried to order it became pretty apparent that the old chinese grandmother was unable to speak english. While her lack of english fortitude was not surprising, that fact that she then reached out in spanish to try to take my oder took me back just a little.

With my order in, I stood there and watched the lady do her kitchen magic. While my filet lay there frying, I watched the lady go though her secret recipe of fried rice. The fired rice was made not of white rice, but rather of yellow "spanish" rice mixed with about a half ounce of chinese chao sui pork; oddly delicious looking. Next she turned attention to my sandwich. After applying the layers of chicken, tomato and lettuce, the old lady then proceeded to grab a piece of american cheese. Wondering how she was to melt it, she looked at the salamander then turned away, this would not do it fast enough. Then out of no where she pivots her body and turns back to the fryer. With one hand extended she dunks the cheese in the hot fryer oil and then moves the multon dripping substance towards the sandwich, upon which she say, "queras salsa de soi?". Maybe it was the look on my face but she said no more and packet it in a bag and handed it to me. I dont think she really knew it was the fact that she had just dipped her hand in a fryer to save 10 seconds of time in the cheese melting endeavor rather than wondering what I would need soy sause for a chicken sandwich that had cough me off guard....

File under WTF

4 train to downtown 14th street.

him: You know I just got out of prison baby.

her: Yea, I know, I missed ya. You going to stay out for good this time?

him: You know how I roll girl, take last night for instance. There was this chinese delivery guy, what can I say, right place wrong time.

her: don't you mean right place right time?

him: no it was the right place for me but the wrong time for him. I caught him slipping, took the food and ran.

What is the rate of recidivism in new york city anyway?

L train - 14th Street - Bushwick

Guy to girl:

You know I really need to get on food stamps, I spent all my money at the bar and am hungry.

bushwick quote of the day

Girl on the cell phone: No, its ok, his indictment has been put on hold for a day...

The Wall

So I seem to have been neglecting my blog after my move to the swick so here goes. There is a lot of paint, graffiti and or street art int he swick, goes with the territory i suppose. There is one wall in particular though that is a for all painters, kind of like a wall of fame. The wall on is painted on al 4 side and houses a factory of some sort in side. The wall can be found at bogard, white, boerum and ingram streets (http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&client=safari&rls=en&q=40.706913,+-73.935091&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=mlR0TJ2-EcP_lgeFmoHJCA&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&ved=0CAkQ_AU). So rather than continue to slack off I though id post some photos I took a few weeks ago to post what is currently on the wall (note it is a living breathing art piece and is ever evolving as people lay down bomber over other peoples work).

Sub woofers and the battle for reggaeton supremacy

My decent into Bushwick has been filled with many new sense sensations; sight, sound & taste a full submersion into all things Bushwick.

Today's focus is sound; in particular, that of the musical style known and loved by the natives: Reggaeton (for those of you who are unfamiliar, a video can be found here).

The ritual of listening to reggaeton involves sub woofers, in particular, custom sub woofers and high powered amps that are installed in cars. It matters not what kind of vehicle you drive, be it a 1978 datsun b210 or a 2010 lexus with spinners. The rules of engagement seem to be the same. All players must pack at least 500 watts in the trunk. Any good sound engineer worth his or her salt will tell that the bass doesn't fully develop for at least 35 feet form the source even with properly ported for the point of origin of dispersion, a fact that all participants must be unaware of. The next stage of the ritual involves participants not hearing the base in the vehicles while setting off as many car alarms of as possible.

Another possible home court rule is, rather than driving, one can opt to pull over and open all the windows, turn the radio up to 11 and then stand on either side of the car and have a conversation while shouting at the top of your voice to make sure the other players can hear you and properly engage in the conversation; albeit with a lot of whats, huhs and ques.

Ironically enough, many of the older residents do not seem to take issue with this this game, grandmothers nor school children complain. As I write this a new match has just began, granted it is only quarter after 12 on a Saturday night, leaves at least 5:45 left in this, the 3rd period.

A turn of events happened last night when the live/work art space in the building next door to me deiced to host a robot themed party with a dub step sound track complete with 18" sub woofers.

As the night drew on, the players from both the art complex and the people from the neighborhood mounted attacks one by one not to be outdone by the former. After an intense battle lasting till 6:00 am Team Reggaeton could no longer hold on after an injury resulting in a blown left woofer, I am still not sure if it was the result of a wattage to impedance miscalculation or a sharp object office sides offense by one of the men in the trunk trying to tool up the amp to push the extra oms. None the less, the natives were forced to abandon Fridays episode of battle for reggaeton.

There is no doubt in my mind that this battle will be repeated like that of civil war reenactments for years to come but the real question is, what kind of ammunition will they pack in the future?

Welcome to the Bushwick beatch!

^{The raid was called on after narcotics officers observed a drug deal in front of the Ridgewood apartment Monday afternoon. The search led cops to the white mountain, scales, and clues leading to a house in Bushwick, where officers found an AK-47 rifle, two Uzi submachine guns, five handguns, and ammo.}

So recently I moved to Bushwick in good old Brooklyn. I must admit it was quite a change from the life I was living in Manhattan. While there are still rows of tenement housing lining the streets of the swick, the swick of today is much different of the swick of the past. Granted there is no shortage of abject poverty, crime, fatherless children and drug addiction, the swick I know is something that politicians who long ago gave up on this neighborhood and perhaps even the residents would have never expected; a beacon of hope.

Today's has seen a return of diversity to the neighborhood, partly fueled by the housing boom leaving neighboring Williamsberg unaffordable for the artist who started to flock there by the prospect of cheap commercial warehouse converted into live work spaces. With this influx of new blood and the reintegration of a diverse mix people businesses and the local economy are starting to thrive.

Although the old residents are enjoying the new life and influx of spending into the neighborhood, it is hard to forget the swicks not so pleasent past. Perhaps nobody could tell the story of the fall and rise of bushwick than that of Ron Carritue as he recalls in his interview titled: Bushwick the firestorm years.

For more on the history of Bushwick, see the wikipedia entry