Consider moving to the 'burgs?
At first, Williamsburg at night felt like Lower East Side of fifteen years ago. Only clean, sanitized, sterile. Unlike needles that would sprinkle Tompkins Square Park’s baseball diamond fifteen years ago. As fog from East River rolled in and dimmed the lightsof seafood restaurants on Wythe, I got a distinct feeling that I am in Sunset District in SF. A lively mural down the street made Williamsburg look like South Street in Philly. Like a ghost it has no face of its own, Williamsburg does not even reflect in the East River:
Williamsburg is nothing but a pile of regurgitated misplaced youth of yesterday.
This is not Shepard Fairey's decal, it’s the work of his posse:
Shepard Fairey is in interior design now:
And look what decalers did to Radiohead’s bear:
At least Williamsburg, as a true rebel, is not afraid to speak truth to power:
Maybe this is not Williamsburg’s fault. Maybe it’s me getting older. My veins are enlarged and fibble, so I can see them in blue light leading to the green room.
And what’s up with VIP? What happened to “I am with the band?” Williamsburg does not reflect on me. Everything here is a ghost.
Williamsburg is nothing but a pile of regurgitated misplaced youth of yesterday.
This is not Shepard Fairey's decal, it’s the work of his posse:
Shepard Fairey is in interior design now:
And look what decalers did to Radiohead’s bear:
At least Williamsburg, as a true rebel, is not afraid to speak truth to power:
Maybe this is not Williamsburg’s fault. Maybe it’s me getting older. My veins are enlarged and fibble, so I can see them in blue light leading to the green room.
And what’s up with VIP? What happened to “I am with the band?” Williamsburg does not reflect on me. Everything here is a ghost.