I am not the only native to feel this way. Here’s an old native New Yorker joke — Q: what’s the definition of a gentrifier? A: someone who arrived five minutes after you did.
My friend Josh Deutsch and guitarist Nico Soffiato recently played some of their duo music at Cafe Vivaldi.
“We go out there and we summons people,” Inspector McCormack said. The way to suppress violent crime, he said, was for officers to stop, question and, if necessary, frisk “the right people at the right time, the right location.”
“The right people” seems to include musician friends of mine who are simply going about their business in Brooklyn. Granted, some of them are suspiciously black and male.
Miles Davis is also buried at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, right by Duke Ellington.
For a historical view of the city, I recommend the Frank Oscar Larson photos on display at the Queens Museum of Art. He used one of these:
My sense is that these are people who can’t accept that some markets, especially financial ones, are disasters when completely unregulated – and thus find any far-fetched excuse to blame the government.
- It seems impossible to buy plain denim jeans in this city. I don’t want pre-faded, pre-scuffed, permanently wrinkled, or otherwise counterfeited jeans.
- Hipsters: please bathe. Seriously.
- The 24-hour subway beats Seattle’s Metro bus system. Going out for a late meal is much easier here in part because of the transportation infrastructure (decrepit as it is in places).
- The Strand is a great bookstore unless you are looking for design books other than those focused on graphic design.
- New Yorkers are rain wimps.
- iPods are very popular.
- I’m surprised by the number of men here who don’t know how to wear a suit. The trousers should be cuffed and the coat should not have sufficient sleeve length to double as a straight jacket. Also, wearing a t-shirt beneath your button-up shirt gives you the male equivalent of panty line.