I <3 NY
Do you know why?
It does not matter, because I am going to tell you.
At the first Salvation Army we could find, somewhere in the Lower East Side, there was a commotion about some guy who wouldn't check his bag. So an employee yelled "WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM BACK HERE!!!" and there was lots of commotion, and a deaf woman with a hearing aid browsing the racks next to me asked me what was going on, and I was shamed to have no fucking clue despite having all of my senses operative and intact. Then Annie came back as the yelling continued and told me that the man had a butcher knife. I was excited. As it turned out, though, the man with the butcher knife was the clerk--- behind the counter. I've seen stores keeping baseball bats handy to fend off any evil-doers, but a butcher knife?! The dude said he wouldn't let them check his bag because the clerk had threatened to kill him. And then after the 'unruly' customer left, this big dim oafish man who was clearly of diminished capacity started talking to me about the man, who he had just hung out in the park with 15 minutes ago or something, and his name was Elijah. He kept yelling about Elijah while all this was going on, and for all I know he thought he was The Prophet. Getting threatened and kicked out of a run-down Salvation Army in the Lower East Side (I recall a similar incident with Jesus in the bible, but it might have been a Walmart). Afterwards the clerk put his butcher knife away and, shaking his head in disbelief, exclaimed "crazy people out there!"
...indeed.
In far less exciting news, we went to Barney's per Annie's request (I think it was a sort of ritual spiritual cleansing after Shawn and I made her take a cab with us to the Salvation Army in Hell's Kitchen) and on the elevator ride down I noticed the petite blond next to me was Sarah Michelle Gellar. I have spent many years harboring unnatural hatred for this woman, but when I saw her I had this perturbed sense that she was familiar, particular her strange bird nose, which distracted me so much that it distorted the rest of her face and made it look sort of warped and two-dimensional. She looks tiny on TV, but in real life she's positively minuscule. She had barely an inch or two on me. Little wretched fairy. Anyway, I didn't stare because I frankly didn't care that much, except for her nose making her face warp into one of those Magic Eye posters. I didn't eat enough today.
Other than the potential knifing, it was a dreary and fairly dull day. I hope we do this again soon when the weather is pleasant, rather than cold and dreary and rainy like those depressing days in fall where the trash blows up in little cursive gusts and falls like flat notes on the wind. I was looking for Axl Rose to stumble out of an alley at any moment in his little tuxedo. It was eerie. I think a day of this season imploded with a day of last fall.
I got some truly hideous jewelery that tops any abominable crap I've bought on my whirlwind trips to the city. I even think it's worse than the pair of plastic turquoise sunglasses encrusted with silver glitter, rubber fish and pink aquarium gravel. I bought it from a woman on the street for 20 dollars. But my new favorite place in the universe is this jewelery store called So Good Jewelery, which we're convinced deals in money laundering. Why else do you need five muscled Asian men patrolling a store full of day-glo kiddie bracelets? I spent 30 dollars in there. One would not think it possible. But I did, oh yes. And the front of it was pure tacky Jesus joy. I practically humped the pillar in the entrance. You will see why when I get a picture. It's my brain.
This is all I could find, but that pillar in the picture on the right (I don't even know what the hell is on the left) is wrapped with pink feather boa-like material and it has bright silk flowers, sparkly pins, and blinking lights embedded in it. I fondled it. A lot.
I want to write silly little things about how pretty the lights in Little Italy were (note to self: later), and how I bought a fake rosary bracelet from some Jewish ladies. I liked it because I didn't know what the picture on the charm was. When I finally realized that it was the eucharist, I stopped liking it. I just liked the fact that I was contributing to the corporate mockery and exploitation of Christ. And the iridescent beads.
I give everything I bought today 2-3 days before it falls apart, except the 12 records I bought for the covers, all of which have already fallen apart sometime within the past several decades. And a little house coat that I am going to make into a shirt. Oh: Vintage/consignment in the city = bullshit. The reason there's nothing in the Salvation Army stores is because it's picked through by little ladies running "vintage" boutiques, who spew some rhinestones and lace on a 2 dollar frock from the bargain bin and charge 300 (literally) for it. It's unbelievable, and wrong for ethical as well as logical reasons, and irritating as hell; and I must become a part of it.
Also, for any little college hipsters out there doing this damn trendy Salvation Army thing (who can help it anymore?), resist the urge to buy the children's items even though they're the cutest. And don't ever buy jackets. I limit myself to things that no one else wants or will ever buy (i.e. tattered record covers); the things that people need, and the NICE things, need to stay there for more deserving people to find if they can. After the damn Soho vultures pick its bones clean. I don't know why I wrote that, since no one will read it. No matter. Go forth and bedazzle the frumpiest, most (important: unfashionably) outdated garment you can, and slap a 300 dollar price tag in it. Some foolish little yuppy with a canvas key fob will trot up in her silly pencil heels and throw bills at you like a slobbering old white-collared strip club patron, to whom she's probably married.
It does not matter, because I am going to tell you.
At the first Salvation Army we could find, somewhere in the Lower East Side, there was a commotion about some guy who wouldn't check his bag. So an employee yelled "WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM BACK HERE!!!" and there was lots of commotion, and a deaf woman with a hearing aid browsing the racks next to me asked me what was going on, and I was shamed to have no fucking clue despite having all of my senses operative and intact. Then Annie came back as the yelling continued and told me that the man had a butcher knife. I was excited. As it turned out, though, the man with the butcher knife was the clerk--- behind the counter. I've seen stores keeping baseball bats handy to fend off any evil-doers, but a butcher knife?! The dude said he wouldn't let them check his bag because the clerk had threatened to kill him. And then after the 'unruly' customer left, this big dim oafish man who was clearly of diminished capacity started talking to me about the man, who he had just hung out in the park with 15 minutes ago or something, and his name was Elijah. He kept yelling about Elijah while all this was going on, and for all I know he thought he was The Prophet. Getting threatened and kicked out of a run-down Salvation Army in the Lower East Side (I recall a similar incident with Jesus in the bible, but it might have been a Walmart). Afterwards the clerk put his butcher knife away and, shaking his head in disbelief, exclaimed "crazy people out there!"
...indeed.
In far less exciting news, we went to Barney's per Annie's request (I think it was a sort of ritual spiritual cleansing after Shawn and I made her take a cab with us to the Salvation Army in Hell's Kitchen) and on the elevator ride down I noticed the petite blond next to me was Sarah Michelle Gellar. I have spent many years harboring unnatural hatred for this woman, but when I saw her I had this perturbed sense that she was familiar, particular her strange bird nose, which distracted me so much that it distorted the rest of her face and made it look sort of warped and two-dimensional. She looks tiny on TV, but in real life she's positively minuscule. She had barely an inch or two on me. Little wretched fairy. Anyway, I didn't stare because I frankly didn't care that much, except for her nose making her face warp into one of those Magic Eye posters. I didn't eat enough today.
Other than the potential knifing, it was a dreary and fairly dull day. I hope we do this again soon when the weather is pleasant, rather than cold and dreary and rainy like those depressing days in fall where the trash blows up in little cursive gusts and falls like flat notes on the wind. I was looking for Axl Rose to stumble out of an alley at any moment in his little tuxedo. It was eerie. I think a day of this season imploded with a day of last fall.
I got some truly hideous jewelery that tops any abominable crap I've bought on my whirlwind trips to the city. I even think it's worse than the pair of plastic turquoise sunglasses encrusted with silver glitter, rubber fish and pink aquarium gravel. I bought it from a woman on the street for 20 dollars. But my new favorite place in the universe is this jewelery store called So Good Jewelery, which we're convinced deals in money laundering. Why else do you need five muscled Asian men patrolling a store full of day-glo kiddie bracelets? I spent 30 dollars in there. One would not think it possible. But I did, oh yes. And the front of it was pure tacky Jesus joy. I practically humped the pillar in the entrance. You will see why when I get a picture. It's my brain.
This is all I could find, but that pillar in the picture on the right (I don't even know what the hell is on the left) is wrapped with pink feather boa-like material and it has bright silk flowers, sparkly pins, and blinking lights embedded in it. I fondled it. A lot.
I want to write silly little things about how pretty the lights in Little Italy were (note to self: later), and how I bought a fake rosary bracelet from some Jewish ladies. I liked it because I didn't know what the picture on the charm was. When I finally realized that it was the eucharist, I stopped liking it. I just liked the fact that I was contributing to the corporate mockery and exploitation of Christ. And the iridescent beads.
I give everything I bought today 2-3 days before it falls apart, except the 12 records I bought for the covers, all of which have already fallen apart sometime within the past several decades. And a little house coat that I am going to make into a shirt. Oh: Vintage/consignment in the city = bullshit. The reason there's nothing in the Salvation Army stores is because it's picked through by little ladies running "vintage" boutiques, who spew some rhinestones and lace on a 2 dollar frock from the bargain bin and charge 300 (literally) for it. It's unbelievable, and wrong for ethical as well as logical reasons, and irritating as hell; and I must become a part of it.
Also, for any little college hipsters out there doing this damn trendy Salvation Army thing (who can help it anymore?), resist the urge to buy the children's items even though they're the cutest. And don't ever buy jackets. I limit myself to things that no one else wants or will ever buy (i.e. tattered record covers); the things that people need, and the NICE things, need to stay there for more deserving people to find if they can. After the damn Soho vultures pick its bones clean. I don't know why I wrote that, since no one will read it. No matter. Go forth and bedazzle the frumpiest, most (important: unfashionably) outdated garment you can, and slap a 300 dollar price tag in it. Some foolish little yuppy with a canvas key fob will trot up in her silly pencil heels and throw bills at you like a slobbering old white-collared strip club patron, to whom she's probably married.