"If a young Oliver Twist lived in Brooklyn in 2013, he would probably go to the Brooklyn Porridge Co., a Park Slope pop-up specializing in 'whole grain porridges.'"
The first reports early last week told the story of a disgruntled young man who had been kicked out of a band called the Yellow Dogs, a band of Iranian expatriates. The man, traumatized by his exile and enraged at his friends, the story went, killed his former bandmates before killing himself.
"Iranian 'murdered bandmates' after group ousted him," read the New York Post headline. "Rafie betrayed his bandmates, stealing money and equipment last year," that story went. "Rafie was kicked out of the group, but on Monday returned with a vengeance." A source told the Post that Rafie shouted, "something like, 'Why did you bring me over here [...]
"The band is planning to introduce New Yorkers to their new double-album… with a pair of scantily publicized concerts, played under a false name, in a former sheet-metal and plastics factory in an industrial pocket of Brooklyn with enough room for just 3,000 people."
Those of you who believe that the best view of Brooklyn is from anywhere else will appreciate this video and its preview of 'All Day,' a digital art thing that "lets viewers virtually fly over Brooklyn thanks to photographs that were shot from rooftops around the borough. The work will play on the giant outdoor oculus at the Barclays Center," which I guess is where those of you who are okay with the view of Brooklyn from within that borough can go to see it, starting today.
"Williamsburg died long ago. I put the exact date before Zebulon closed, before Savalas closed, before the unbelievably shitty Brooklyn Bowl opened, way back when the life-changingly awesome Jelly Pool Parties ended. Dunkin changes nothing."
"As Ms. Waldman nursed a bourbon with a splash of soda on ice, the nearby tables filled up with girls in their summer dresses and boys in their graphic tees. The growing conversational murmur was punctuated by the loud burst of gunning motorcycles and muffler-free cars from the unseen Atlantic Avenue…. At a neighboring table, a young man was reading a trade paperback, filtering out the surrounding buzz and abandoning it when a friend appeared."