Pinisi and Punks

Since moving to Brooklyn, I have not gone out nearly enough to Manhattan to discover gems of note- until recently. With my friend Nish, much adventuring was underway earlier this week. We walked around the city for hours- HOURS, and were pleasantly surprised by many different shops and such we stumbled (not literally) into. One place in particular that had a really great vibe was Pinisi Bakery that has a few locations around the city. We had some delicious cupcakes there after eating dollar pizza- health schmealth, and were very satisfied. The bakery is adorable and has couches in the back along with a bookshelf with many different titles- you can even learn Russian! The feel is reminiscent of an artist's living room, devoid of that sterile, conventional, corporate callousness of starbucks. There's original artwork on the walls and they painted the florescent lighting panels with pretty primary colors. Also, the guys working there were very friendly.
Before that we went to a small book store on 1st with a great women's studies and political theory section. Of course, I have forgotten the name of the bookstore, but when I'm not feeling completely and utterly lazy I'll look it up and post its whereabouts/website.
So, remember my aversion to the lower east side? I'm kind of over it. I had an awesome time hanging out down there so I have since changed my staunch stance (hehe) on it. Though it is filled with insensitive idiots, there is a really cool scene there as a whole. Maybe cool's not the word for it- um, interesting. Yes, there's a fascinating collective of people/ideas in the lower east side- a conflicting mass of bigotry and "liberalism." We (my friend and I) experienced this amorphous, confused reality when we were at a bar dancing around like fools. It was interesting seeing who would approach us, who stared at us in amusement and terror, and who avoided us. There was one guy in particular that was wasted and probably on numerous drugs who felt the need to tell us, "If you can't dance to rock music, then you can't dance. You have to be able to dance to every type of music." Mind you this was after the DJ (who was shitty that night) was playing bands like Empire of the Sun, Passion Pit, and even some hardcore- but mostly he played horrible 80s music that was not made to be played at a dance party. Anyway, he said this and we stared at him in disbelief, realizing he was drunk and an idiot. He then proceeded to ask us how to dance like "black people," when a hip-hop song came on. This guy was a true asshole, completely oblivious to the ignorance pouring out of his mouth. It's annoying to be in a situation like that because you really are powerless. This guy was intoxicated so no amount of reason was going to permeate that thick skull of his, we were just trying to ignore his insults and continue our fun. Luckily, as the universe would have it, he was an awful dancer and had been flailing around the dance floor like a madman, bruising himself in the process and without aid showed his ugly insides through his grotesque dancing style-buffoon. I don't like to judge people when they're dancing, but when they admit ignorance willfully I let myself go. It's funny because he swore he was lord of the dance.
It's so frustrating running into people who are so small-minded. I've been around such amazing people, I forget those foolish people exist. It was depressing. I'm over it though, there's no way I'm letting one person make me lose hope in humanity (I almost did that night haha).


I'm out.

The Bell House

On Saturday night, I dragged my friend from VA and my friend who just relocated back to Brooklyn to The Bell House for an event called
CHERYLYMPIX. According to the facebook invite I got, Cherylympix is...

CHERYL (the dance party that will ruin your life) invites you to curl your hair, hurl your disco balls, and streamline your body with an ergonomic, aerodynamic padded flesh tone luge suit. Fall face down on the skeleton track and thrust your body through hyperspace in .00000238 seconds in the direction of the Bell House for the largest compulsive compulsory competititive LIFE exhibition on this side of GoGo.

CHERYLYMPIX events commence with the traditional mannequinhand torch running, opening ceremony with 1,000 tiny native GoGo children, and the annual kozy shack eating championships. Additional events include inappropriate javelin thrusts, breath holdings, and the face smashing playoffs.


Then there was a link to this...


(yes, it was that amazing)

So my friends and I sat around my apartment for several minutes trying to figure out how the hell to get there. After realizing our trip would take an hour and a half using trusty ol MTA, we decided on a cab. We finally got there and to my dismay the bar seemed devoid of activity. Looking nervously at my two friends hoping they would forgive me for bringing them to the lamest party ever, we stepped further inside. We ordered some drinks and started heading towards the back of the bar, and that's when I saw it. The golden gates. There was an entire other room! A sigh of relief escaped my lips and my friends and I headed into the dark room with the colorful flashing lights and loud music. The venue is a great size. Not too big, but not a claustrophobic's nightmare. It's actually very beautiful inside, but you couldn't really tell with all the lights out and an innumerable amount of people grinding on each other. There's a stage right in front of you when you walk in and plenty of standing room for dancing. A bar stood towards the back wall and another was elevated left of the stage. There were couches littered around the edges of the room where one could sit and take a breather from the massive pulsing crowd.
The music was excellent: yeah yeah yeahs, cut copy, CHROMEO. Dancing was indisputable, there were no options, your feet were required to move. We danced all night!
The only negative thing I have to say about the experience was the horrible transportation. Because it was the weekend, the trains were running at unreasonable hours. After we left we had a small squabble with an asshole cab driver that insisted on running the meter without knowing how to get to our destination. My friend loudly voiced her discontent, consequently getting us thrown out of the taxi. It was one of the funniest/ most absurd things I ever witnessed. The cabby was truly a piece of work. With spirits high, and the adrenaline (amongst other things) from hours of dancing still pumping through our veins we set off to take the subway- that didn't work. We wound up even further away and elected to take a cab after a pit stop at D and D. America runs on dunkin- apparently.

Saturday night was epic, consisting of fortified wine (cisco. you know the deal)and friends. I totally recommend The Bell House ( a bar/venue) for all your entertainment needs.



I'm out.