Happy New Year, everybody

Something's different. The old practice of shooting everything is beginning to change.

Searching now for some meaning in these images, whereas earlier,

I was simply looking. Looking is important. It's the first step towards finding.

The Lucky 777 deli on the corner of Throop Ave. and Van Buren St., Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, Dec. 30, 2013

Then on to Von King Park, taking the diagonal walkway towards Greene and Marcy

Next day, Dec 31,  I wake up in Windsor Terrace, and walk past this wreath made of well-worn dusty balls displayed in a window. Styrofoam, I guess.

Then on New Year's Day, after the previous midnight's fireworks in Prospect Park (large, loud, close!), I wake up, we go for a bite at the Windsor Cafe, and I take the G-train home. Past Gowanus, facing eastward. From 4th and 9th, to Smith and 9th, heading north towards Bed-Stuy.

Happy 2014!

2013 begins in its glorious, revolutionary, everydayness

 

Starlings roost in Von King Park, Bed-Stuy's best little oasis.

Looking up the stairs towards the office at the Park Slope Food Coop, and coming back down again through a veritable maze of offerings for massage therapy, hand made furniture, music lessons, pet-sitting services, and cat adoptions. I do love this place.

This unusual lamp was put on the street after the woman who owned it died. I ran into her son who explained that it reminded him too much of his mother and made his entire family sad, so they had to put it out.

My housemate put a large mirror in the hallway, positioned so that as soon as I open my bedroom door, I am confronted with myself, flaws 'n all. I've decided to accept self as is. And below, our shoes and our visitors' shoes.

Ran across this biker's club on Franklin Ave. in the neighborhood that skirts Bed-Stuy, Crown Heights and Prospect Heights. I tried to snap a shot into the club, but the scene was rowdy - lots of music, laughing and some yelling - so I failed to get the shot I wanted. Had to move on before some of the rowdy bikers came out and asked me what the hell I was doing.

Yes, I went into Dunkin' Donuts on Franklin Ave. near Fulton Street, late at night, "to find some comfort there," as Simon and Garfunkle would say. But I found this kind of decent mural instead. Workers of all stripes having their morning coffee, donuts presumably stashed in the lunch pail.

Further down the street (going north) was a building site and this is their portable toilet. Forbidding.

Further north on Franklin Ave, I took two shots of renovations in progress at a street level shop through the plate glass window. The scene exudes optimism in the face of the current economy, considering that these optimists must be using a small load of borrowed cash for starting up.

The neatest pile of paper recycling I've ever witnessed, waiting for the next day's pickup.

The neighborhood opens up as I walk to the wine shop on Franklin Ave.

A quick jog down Van Buren towards Von King Park, past the houses that all have the round gate posts

Right away -- once inside the park -- the 79th Precinct makes its presence known. Cop stands between a tree and a rock, facing the bandstand.

Lonely at the cop.

And inside the bandstand, some rappers, rapping about staying in school, but using lots of swear words nonetheless. Reassuring that rap keeps its ethics.

The audience, my neighbors.

It's someone's birthday, so they get a special notice.

 

 

Cop no. 2.

Then further on, on Lafayette Ave., there's a movie shoot. I think the movie's called 'Gun Hill,' but don't quote me on that.

The gear to bring the 'Gun Hill' to life, as it were.

Don't forget the catering services.

Blurry extra stuff.

The last of the 'Gun Hill' trailers.

At Bedford and Clifton there's a building that just can't get built. It's been almost-done for two years. Keep trying!

 

And on the lamp post, someone's missing a cat.

But not this one...one of many strays sitting on the curb next to one of many garbage bags.

A multi-tasking gate.

At the wine shop, Duchamp's bottle rack comes full circle. The guy in the shop didn't know what I was talking about, however, when I mentioned Duchamp. I've had too much art school, that's for sure.

On the way home. Just a street. My street.

Hey -- more cops. On my corner. What's the f*&#%ing problem? Oh -- lotsa guns in the neighborhood lately. Gun Hill for sure, unfortunately.

Cat sitting, in both senses of the word.