Friday, January 13, 2006


Some of those little things that didn't seem right to my uncitified self have over time become alright. Not just alright. Good, somehow.

  • The grocery delivery guy has no reservations about stepping into my studio after dropping off my order to look at what I'm painting. Same goes for the locksmith, the plumber, and the UPS guy. Except for the locksmith who called me goth and spooky, I have enjoyed the honest opinions and apt critiques of these otherwise strangers.
  • The laundry guy (who is the sweetest man in my life) pushes a makeshift cart for his rounds around the neighborhood all day. He waves to everyone while he pushes a dishwasher-sized box constructed of 2 x 4's mounted with bungee and c-clamps to an old wheelchair. The community's laundry, Armani to Ann Taylor, hangs and swings from a raised horizontally mounted broomstick. At first, I thought this was very unprofessional. I thought he must be hurting for business if he can't afford a proper cart. Now I know, this is a proper cart.
  • The mailman sorts the mail at Dragon Garden every single day while he leisurely lunches on sloppy, saucy, Chinese food. I used to believe the USPS would catch him cheekily dining there in the window, reading peoples' magazines, licking his fingers. Now I know the USPS is just happy if the mail gets delivered, sauce-dribbled or otherwise.
  • The neighbors above me rearrange their furniture every single evening. I don't know who these people are, but they are never content with the placement of that sofa. They are also easily startled and drop fistfuls of hardware (I think) and pennies (I think.) And marbles (I'm certain.) Would you put up with that? I used to wonder if I would. Now I feel nervous when I haven't heard something drop for a while. And yes, I start wondering if the jazz guy downstairs is doing ok if I don't feel that guitar through my feet for some time (although the days when I planned to take the self-produced jazz CD he gave us when he came up to complain about our noise one day, and play it at full volume and on 'repeat', while I take the kids to Utah for a spell are close enough to still taste.)
  • I was confused (if not slightly excited) about the number of people I could see at any given time in various stages of undress out my windows and through theirs when we first moved into this building. Now I know. New Yorkers don't care if people see them naked. My 19 year-old nephew visiting from Colorado was at once pleased and disgusted when one evening, while we sat around and talked, Dan told him he could probably see a naked lady out the back window if he wanted. Indeed. Not ready for her closeup, perhaps, but genuinely naked. At this point, I'm sure you've guessed where I am personally on this one.
I lean toward being New Yorker in this case.


Anonymous BIG Mike said...

All of those things are probably happening all around me all of the time. But we have space. That's the biggest difference that I can see between the US and Australia. We have 20 million people spread out over 2.9 million square miles. New York has 20 million people packed into just 47,000 square miles.

With everyone that tightly packed, you can't help but see things and hear things and smell things that go unnoticed in Australia.

But we still love everything American. We go to all the same places you do, mostly just the help GWB blow stuff up

2:56 PM  
Anonymous matt said...

is that you blogging? you guys must really crank the heat up in there.

6:19 PM  
Blogger ZinniaSoCA said...

I hope you are writing a book about your Brooklyn experiences and that you will let me know when it's published. It's "another world" for me and I am loving the vicarious experience.

I think your paintings are brilliant, expressive, haunting, deep, disquieting, edgy, moving, intense, eerie, mysterious, abstruse, profound... but I sure wouldn't describe them as "goth," although that may as close as you can get in locksmith parlance.



9:15 PM  
Anonymous dug said...

i live in draper, and i can see naked people too. although i have to use a telescope.

turns out almost nobody is ready for their closeup.

11:15 AM  
Blogger newbrooklyner said...

Mike, NYC is jam-packed. The contradiction about the Big City is that everything is so small. Furniture, aisles, even the people. Smaller.

No, matt. That is the lady whose building backs up to my building. I think she writes for the Post.

MuMo, no book. The blog is it. Thanks for all the words about my stuff. You are the most supportive person I've never met. I am happy for you to live vicariously through me because you save a lot of rent money that way.

dug, the telescope moves accidental sightings up a notch to stalking.
Binoculars are ok though.

1:21 PM  
Blogger Adriana Velez said...

Funny -- I draw the line with people I know, though. The other day when my neighbor threw her Christmas tree off the roof and I brought Jasper to the window to look at how it had gotten caught in the tree out front I realized I was just in my bra...and my neighbor's daughter and nanny were down on the street waving. I prefer exhibitionism to strangers.

Also, someone once complained to me that people in the Slope treat the neighborhood like it's an extension of their living room, strolling about wearing anything. And I said what are you talking about? This neighborhood IS and extension of our livingrooms.

11:16 PM  
Anonymous Rocky said...

Did your 19-old nephew go to the back window? Because he's been a little loopy since his return. And he REALLY wants to go back to the city. Now I get it.

7:20 AM  

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