Archive for September, 2007

Protected: the worst class

September 11, 2007

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anti-labor day

September 6, 2007

In lieu of anything interesting happening to me today, a story from my roommate. Some context: I live way out in Bushwick, in an unfashionable neighborhood which is gentrifying quickly – as in, when I moved in 4 months ago, things were semi-nasty. (My second night returning to my apartment, a man walked up to me carrying one of those 2×4’s mounted on wooden axles they use to block traffic. It was slung over his shoulders. “I’m not crazy,” he informed me. “My back is in pain. I’m carrying this as penance for my sins.”) I’m no longer the only white face on the subway every night, and I’ve seen some hipster douchebag with an Andy Warhol bag prancing around – but obv. gentrification is not arriving quickly enough for shy suburban poor kids like me.

Witness: my roommate’s girlfriend (who lives two blocks down) was supposed to have some heating installed. The dude who sort-of manages the building (he’s not the super, but he hangs around, is vague about his status, and sells pot) brought in unpaid Mexican labor to install illegal heating while the super wasn’t there. Trouble was, the super was there, and he had the foresight to inspect the pipes for the heating system. Which, it was discovered, disgruntled Mexican laborers had filled with concrete – had it been installed, the building might have exploded. Lawsuits have ensued.

it’s the first day of the semester

September 4, 2007

And you know what that means. Well, you do if you’re unlucky enough to be around the NYU area:

* freshmen in sweat-pants toting expensive bags, carrying glossy cards inviting them to “party” at “the hottest club in town” and/or NYU paraphernalia advertising extracurriculars

* those assholes who stand on the corner asking “Do you like comedy?” (Soon to be followed by the Children’s International and Greenpeace people). This is all the fault of the freshmen, who are obvious, naive fresh meat.

* desperate socialization. “So, what class are you going to? Oh, that’s cool. Do you want to go to the dining hall later?” Often marked by hordes of 8 or more kids walking together from one place to another, scared of being alone for even a second.

I understand. I was a freshmen myself, not so long ago. But you know what? You’ll learn to dress properly in public one of these days (unless you’re in Stern, in which case you think it’s cool to pop your collar and saunter around in faux-expensive business attire), how to stare down those guilt-tripping sidewalk whores, and none of these people whose company you so desperately want right now will be your friends when you’re a senior. And someday, just like me, you’ll feel guilty about turning a cool area into an obnoxious campus.