The weekend was fairly eventful, and awfully hot. Reoccurring events during the weekend included: outdoor concerts, bike riding, and car crashes a few feet from our apartment.Friday after work, there was a downpour of near-Biblical proportions. I had my umbrella, but it was obvious that it wouldn't have done much against the deluge. So I stood against a wall with some co-workers, under an awning, and waited for the rain to subside. It didn't. After watching several large cockroaches climb up the wall I was leaning on, trying to escape the rain, I decided to make a mad dash for it. I ran to the 1-2 train, which I never take home, but was the closest train. As predicted, I was soaking wet when I got there.
In the evening, neighbor Ms. Charming Melodee and I walked around for a while looking for something to do. After deciding on getting a drink, we walked around most of Park Slope. First we stopped by the Buttermilk bar, the new bar opened by the owners of Great Lakes, on 16th street on 5th Ave. They're really taking over this town. Or at least, this borough. Or at least the neighborhood. It's their 4th bar in the Park Slope/Carroll Gardens vicinity. Anyway, Buttermilk is named after the Buttermilk Channel, which is the waterway between Brooklyn and Governor's Island. I thought I'd throw that in, because "Buttermilk" sounds kind of stupid otherwise. When we got there, we took a look in and decided it was far too bright inside. We were both looking for something danker. So we walked down 5th ave, eventually landing at Great Lakes, where I'd figured we'd end up anyway.
For some reason when I ordered our drinks, I became distracted and forgot to get my change. The bartender gave me the next drink for free, but it still annoyed me that I'd been that careless. After a drink or two and after Miss Charming Melodee's songs played on the jukebox, we got out of there. We'd talked earlier in the evening about going on a little bike ride, but it was still wet from the rain. It'd cleared up by the time we left the Lakes, so we walked back home and picked up the bikes. She had a Huffy "Sweet Thunder" that she'd bought in the fall. It was the same bike Doug Connolly's sister had, so it brought back considerable memories. I remember having to ride the Sweet Thunder on a few occasions when we were short a bike or two. It kind of made me wish I had my old Predator freestyle bike.
Anyway, we rode around most of Park Slope, up to the Park where she and her roommate had planted a tree that was in their apartment for many months. They'd picked it out of the garbage last fall, and to my knowledge it had been dead for many, many months, and was sitting in the hallway. So we went up and saw the dead tree they spent time planting. It had fallen over, due to the fact that they only dug a hole about 6 inches deep. Luckily, the tree was dead anyway. That whole endeavor seemed earnestly absurd.
We sped down to 5th ave., stopping for a while in the Key Food parking lot, where I tried to show her how to pop a wheelie. I rode the Sweet Thunder for a while, until it threw me off. The bike is cursed. Then over to the playground on 5th and 3rd street. There was a very large water fountain spewing. Isn't there a drought on? So we rode through the fountain, then had a swing on the swings. On our way home, crossing 4th st. and 8th ave., a car coming down 4th was waiting for us to cross so he could pull onto 8th ave. I rushed ahead, thinking Miss CM was right behind me. So I get a few feet down the sidewalk, and I hear this girl scream. I turn around, and I see a car speeding down 8th Ave, and plow right into the car that had pulled out after Ms. CM crossed the street. The scream came from the girl in the passenger seat of the car doing the hitting. Thougt that car wasn't at fault. It was pretty exciting thought, what with the screeching brakes and collision and sounds of metal hitting metal and broken glass. I told Ms. CM she probably caused the accident. She decided her bike was cursed. Anyway, it was pretty muggy out, and the bike riding became unpleasant.The next day was the Siren Music Festival on Coney Island. Miss Charming Melodee and I discussed possibly going, since we both wanted to see many of the bands playing, but didn't want to deal with the heat and crowds. In the end we just decided to go. On the train, there was this fat little butterball running around, hugging his mother every chance he got. Boy, fat kids sure do love their moms. It was a little odd. He seemed to be past the age where it's ok to be that attached to your mom. I think they were Russian, not that that has anything to do with it. Or does it? There were also a few very humorous mustaches on the train. In fact, the entire day was filled with funny mustaches. I took a picture of a guy who looked a lot like Dave Grohl, but looked more like a rat than Dave Grohl.
The little butterball, just happy to be alive. And his momma.When we got there, it wasn't very crowded at all, but it was terribly hot. I really wanted to see The Shins, because I haven't been able to stop listening to, humming, or whistling the song "New Slang." In fact, I'm listening to it right now. Most of the other bands were of the new garage band variety that's sweeping the nation. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Von Bondies, etc. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs were pretty good, but it was too hot to stand there, and Miss Charming Melodee couldn't see at all, so we didn't stick around. We actually spent more time doing Coney Island things than watching the music. We rode the Cyclone, which is always enjoyable. The carnie working the ride asked me if I spoke English, because I wouldn't move down the line. I said "I'm sorry, what language did you say?" because I'm smart like that. And then he got all pissed off and said he'd kick me off the ride. So I zipped it.
We also went to the Sideshow by the Seashore, the freakshow exhibit on the Island. In a nutshell, I will say "What a crock." It cost 8 bucks, but we were both like "It's a once in a lifetime thing." Not in a "this is so good and it's our only chance to see it, ever," way, but in a "let's just satisfy this curiousity and we'll never have to think about it again. It was sort of interesting, but at every turn, they tried to bilk you for more money. The special exhibit they put together in a separate room, which they charged a buck for, was just a video spliced together of various freaks throughout history. Though the fire-eater was pretty impressive. However, the woman eating bugs was not.
The buxom mermaids, enticing us into the Sideshow by the Seashore. Sirens would have been more appropriate, seeing as how we were duped.We walked onto the beach for a bit, to cool off in the palm tree fountain. It was refreshing, but the heat made my wet clothes quite unpleasant when it got all humid in my pants.
While we were watching the shins, in the area to the side of the stage, a small child threw up right in front of us. It was really funny. The kid was sort of in shock, standing there with a "what's happening to me?" expression on his face. He jus stood there calmly and in shock as watermelon-colored vomit spewed from his mouth and his nose. Occasionally he would stick his hand into the stream, then look at it, trying to figure out what was going on. Kids are so dumb.
The gathered masses outside Astroland at Coney Island.
Self Portrait # 297On the train coming back, sitting right in front of us were a man and woman, and the woman had her leg spread out onto the man's lap. This also warranted a picture. Miss Charming Melodee was a bit disturbed by me taking the picture, and was even more disturbed when I told her it was for a little exhibit I wanted to put together called "Crotchfest." I thought it was funny when I took the picture, but after seeing it in a larger form on the computer screen, now I think it's hilarious. In all honesty, I believe this might be the best picture I've ever taken. Really. The expressions on their faces are absolutely priceless.
If this isn't art, I don't know what is.
So in the evening, James came over. Shortly before he arrived, there was yet another car accident on my street. We didn't see it, but we heard it from our living room and ran out to investigate. This one was even more spectacular, and much louder. There were also shouts of "You motherfucker!" As a bonus, it was yelled by a foreign man, seemingly Middle Eastern, which always makes "You motherfucker!" so much more humorous. Anyway, James and I went up to the Park to catch the concert, which was Lambchop. I'd heard Lambchop described as fucked-up country, but it didn't seem all that country to me. Or fucked up, for that matter. Though it was good show. James found it transcendent. From there the evening went downhill. Literally, I mean. We walked down the Slope from the Park to Southpaw, where Matt, Jen, and Jed said they'd be. After seeing that there was an 8 dollar cover, we figured they were not there. We met them at Matt's apartment, got all fucked up, and went to Bar Reis, which I really did not want to do. That place is now so terrible it cannot be described by words. You must experience it. When I woke up on Sunday, I didn't know what day it was, and couldn't remember where I'd been the night before.
For some reason though, I was full of energy. After doing two laps on my bike around Prospect Park, I decided to just go ride across the Brooklyn Bridge. Never done it before, always wanted to, and nothing better to do. It took me a while to figure out exactly how to get to the Bridge, and I got lost a few times riding through Carroll Gardens and Brooklyn Heights. But at least I can now cross that off my list of things I needed to do while living in New York. The bridge is pretty steep, and it was a fairly rough ride across. Though I did stop on numerous occasions to take pictures. It was pretty cool to speed down the wooden walkway and look down and see traffic underneath me. Then I rode along the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, which I'd also menat to do for quite some time now. I must say, lately nothing makes me happier than riding my bike on a nice day, listening to music. The songs along for the ride yesterday were Jimmy Eat World's "The Middle," The Shins "New Slang," Weezer's "The Good Life," Pavement's "Shoot the Singer," Belle and Sebastians "Simple Things," Modest Mouse's "All Nite Diner," and a song by my neighbor Rachel's band.
I felt like collapsing when I got home, but after a while, I wasn't tired at all. In the evening I sat in my air-conditioned room, drank cold beer, and watched "Amelie" on DVD. I still wonder how much I'd like that movie if it were an American movie instead of French. As it stands, I like it very, very much.
Empty section of the Brooklyn Heights Promenade
View of Manhattan from the Promenade. It looks almost fake. People were watching me when I was taking this picture. I was afraid they might think I was scoping out potential targets or something.
The Brooklyn Bridge, from the Manhattan side.
The arch above the Brooklyn side of the bridge.