"The Lower East Side is divided largely between those who don't remember the 1970s and those who wish they didn't."
On the train up to the Lower East Side to DJ a New Year's Eve party thrown by one of the richest men in America, K and I talk about heliskiing and make up names for gourmet-sounding fast food dishes like a 12-Piece Value Oysters or a (Wendy's) Dave's Hot 'N Juicy 1/3rd lb. Diamond Encrusted Salmon. On the platform at Jay Street, I panic about my playlists because I'm not sure if I have enough New Year's Eve-type music for a crowd invited by one of the richest men in America, so I make a supplementary On-The-Go playlist on my iPod while K types an email draft on her [...]
For reasons complicated and uninteresting, I found myself driving a car around the Lower East Side yesterday morning, looking for a parking spot. Stopped at a red light at Canal and Eldridge, singing along with Soundgarden's "Fell On Black Days," which Matt Pinfield was playing on 101.9, I saw a man walking down the street carrying an axe. It was a large axe, not a hatchet. He held it in both hands, handle across his chest, the wide, sharp wedge of it's blade glinting in the sunshine on an otherwise normal day.
"Our apartment was a railroad flat—a long room running from the windows in the front to a small bedroom and a bathroom in the back. I slept on a mattress, under the windowsill in the front overlooking Ludlow. We burned crates and furniture in the fireplace to keep warm. There was no heat in the winter other than the gas stove. Tony and I lived on what we could afford—mostly canned stew and milkshakes. Across the street in the morning, you could hear kids from the nearby high school singing doo-wop in the doorway there. Other kids threw rocks at us because they thought we looked like the Beatles. [...]
Are you up on Moonstrips? They are a delicious type of snack food that I have been enjoying of late. Before I go any further, I should stop and tell you: Moonstrips are a type of matzo. I stole some of them from the company that makes them recently. Sort of. I’ll explain the stealing part more later.
Moonstrips are matzos but they are not plain and tasteless and cardboardy. They are delicious. (And, okay, maybe just a little cardboardy? But not in a terribly off-putting way.) Do you like everything bagels? Of course you do. You live in New York. Or somewhere else. You love everything bagels. They [...]
"Hackers, concealed behind fanciful aliases on the Internet, often appropriate larger-than-life dimensions. In reality, other than in physical proportions, Sabu seemed considerably smaller than life. A defensive-lineman-size man known as Booby, he was raising the two young children of his imprisoned aunt in a public housing project. Court documents showed that Mr. Monsegur, 28, paid bills with stolen credit cards and dabbled in drug sales." —Do You think Richard Price has called Willam Gibson and asked him to collaborate on a slightly fictionalized version of the story of Hector Xavier Monsegur, a.k.a. "Sabu," yet?
"Yours truly has survived quite well all these years without the slightest notion of who Lady Gaga, was, and this blessed state of affairs could continue to her and my mutual satisfaction, I'm sure, if not for my friend Jeff, who used to attend services at the Stanton Street Shul. Far more attuned to pop culture than I am, Jeff discovered that a new biography of Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta (Lady Gaga for short), titled Poker Face, is about to come out and that she and I, and all of you, really, are closely related in Kevin Bacon fashion…" -Yori Yanover, editor and publisher of the Lower East Side's [...]