Emily, Zack and Maya find Stuff on The Street
I love the industrial part of Williamsburg by the river. Yeah, there are a few condos being put in, but it still has a factory/warehouse feel to it. And sometimes you run across surprises in all this metal and concrete. Turn a corner, and there are hidden pictures on the wall:
Non-sequitur: I once went to a bike messenger party down here. It was in an old factory with huge metal doors. You’d have had no idea it was there. And I never forgot this party because a) bike messengers are truly unique individuals and b) there was a guy dressed as a hasidic jew there…the hat and curls and everything…and at first I wondered why a hasidic jew would be at a bike messenger party in a Williamsburg factory, until I noticed his gloves, which had the bones of hands printed on him….later I learned he is a famous bike dude who simply LIKES TO DRESS LIKE A HASID.
But yeah, there are surprises everywhere around here. Tonight we found a good one….a pile of stuff. Boxes. A suitcase open, the contents strewn. My theory: some guy really pissed off his girlfriend and she sought revenge.
I mean, everything. This guy’s birth certificate. Resume (he worked at The Olive Garden). Sketches. Memories. Treasured items. Stuff that meant something. Just stuff. Right there on the dirty street, in industrial Williamsburg, by the river, was his abandoned life.
And, of course, we had to go through it! (I mean, Zack and I are both writers after all…as for Emily, well, I ain’t got no excuse for her)
Zack thought this sketch looked like him
Zack took this playing card and ripped it in half. Now my BURN BROTHER and I can each carry a piece with us at all times. As he told me: If you ever need something, I will give you a name and you will show them your half of the card and all will be resolved. Okay, it didn’t make sense then and it doesn’t now. But I’m still keeping it, ‘cause he is my BURN BROTHER and I know it will bring me luck.
Yes, this seems to be a regular occurrence in Williamsburg. I was walking along the street next to the Williamsburg bride one day and came across an arresting pile of garbage. It was a neat little spot of discarded nude drawings. A few were quite explicit while others were surreal with odd colors. The artists’ empty Chinese food cartons and torn postage boxes rested in the middle and a poster reading”Fame is a DRUG” sat off to the side. Maybe this artist decided success was not for him.