Here's Leighton Meister sitting in a hallway.

Just before 9/11 many writers had contemplated what they called “The End of History.” We lived in relative peace and prosperity and progress be it technological or sociological had sped up so much that keeping track of it was no longer tenable. Of course now we know that those who predict the death of history are doomed to be rocked to the core by it.

Then there are slow news days. Lately, post #OccupyWallStreet, I’m feeling a bit of a lack of history locally. Of course am I asking for trouble simply by mentioning this dearth of eventfulness? Probably.

Brooklyn news these days can be tragic on a hyper local scale(a man was shot by the police in his own home last night) or almost about the fact that nothing is happening(have your heard the Nets are a thing that will eventually happen here). What it is not in the last few weeks is world changing important cultural, political and economic shifts. Where are those stories?

The last decade Brooklyn has played a big role in the collective consciousness. Perhaps we have now entered into a period of cultural insignificance. More likely though the sky will cave in in some way or maybe something huge and good will happen.

I was biking down Grattan St. in Bushwick this morning and to my delight, my suspicions that a new joint was opening up were correct. It’s a ramen place called Shinobi, or something like that. They put up their sign the other day, which means they’ll be serving delicious treats pretty soon, probably by September, if my innate food sense is correct.

And the best thing is, I know it’s going to be delicious. Because one, hipsters won’t stand for sub-par ramen. And two, because there’s a reputation Bushwick has to maintain as emerging food center.

It started with Roberta’s. Then came Momo and The Morgan and Arancini Bros. and pretty soon, this new ramen place, which will probably be better than Momofuku, or if not, at least more local.

Oh and by the way, I’m blowing up Cain’s Tavern‘s spot, too. It’s a new bar on Wilson and George St. It’s cute and hip. What else would you expect?

My mom’s moving back to New York soon. She probably wouldn’t be able to afford (or want to live in) one of the dumpy Manhattan studios in her price range. So all of the above are reasons why she should just buy a loft in Bushwick.

I knew today was going to be different, colder. Luckily I had my new bicycle gloves to keep me warm. But there was still a lot to discover. On Flushing Avenue, far east of the new bike lanes, the Bushwick Loom has built a veritable menagerie of shops. There’s a jewelry boutique, a jam co-op, a market, a chabad dinner party, a yoga studio, moped shop, vintage clothing stores and lots more to see.

All of this activity should make the industrial part of Flushing Ave. a little warmer this winter. There are still some open spaces in this minimall collective, so here’s hoping we have another cafe coming soon to replace the Archive.

What keeps me confused are the boundaries of this neighborhood. Bushwick is technically south of Flushing, so I can allow them getting away with calling themselves the Bushwick market being on the north side of the street, but technically it’s East Williamsburg. Then again, I tell people where I live (just north of the Market) and they say, so that’s what the realtor told you, huh?

This neighborhood is coming down with a case of split personality disorder – on one hand, it is a lot like Williamsburg; on the other it is five stops deeper on the L train. What do you think we should call it?

I love Brooklyn for its vastness. Thomas Wolfe once wrote a story about being unable to truly know Brooklyn. Despite the truth of his fiction, I attempted the impossible.

Last week was one of the first days when you can feel autumn in the air. The shadows get longer, the daylight is shorter, people are outside enjoying the warm weather because they sense that next month at this time, it won’t be the same. It was a Thursday evening, and I couldn’t bear taking the normal bike route home – I wanted to go where I’d never been before, I wanted to go to Red Hook.

This area of town is unreachable by Subway, but can be walked to from the G/F train in Gowanus. A bus also goes there. It’s full of old abandoned industry, dockyards, and warehouses. Looking down the cobblestone streets to the water, you really get a sense of old Brooklyn – before the bridge was built and before it was part of New York. It was desolate, and I was struck by a time transcending feeling. Down on the Fairway, staring out at the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island, and seeing the late summer light shimmer on the water, I didn’t even spend too long taking it in – I walked through and went to Diego’s, a nice Mexican fusion restaurant.

So there’s a ghost stroller on Union and 6th. Painted the color of my butt cheeks during the winter, this artistic endeavor has confused and confounded locals for weeks now. The New York Times just ran an article about it. And everyone wants to know what it means.

I think I know. 20 years ago, and even today, Park Slope was an ideal neighborhood for young, aspiring artists. Then the yuppies found out about it, and gentrification ensued. It’s close to downtown, right next to the Park, safe, what’s not to love? Let’s stake a claim here and raise a family. Right? So they did.

Now it seems the small remaining artistic community is fighting back. The ghost stroller is a mockery of memorial bikes painted white. No baby in a stroller was smacked by a moving car – it’s some Park Slope artist lamenting the loss of his hepcat community to the thriving papoose wearing yuppie moms.

Gentrification is a good thing guys. It’s what lead to the development and safety of other Brooklyn communities, like the newly coined South Park Slope, and East Williamsburg. And so is art. It’s provocative and makes people think, even if they attribute a different meaning than the artist’s intended one. That comes with the territory.

As for the artists, I’d say don’t despair. Move to Bushwick.

How’s this for a Craigslist ad?

18-room apartment in Brooklyn Heights with 11 bedrooms (and 11 fireplaces), four-car parking, Southern-style garden and porch. Perfect for lavish parties and deviant vocal patterns. Tennessee Williams need not apply.

We’re describing 70 Willow St., the former home of legendary author — and all-around lush — Truman Capote. Said legend rented the residence from 1955 to 1965, where he partied hard, conceived of Holly Golightly, and wrote In Cold Blood.

The asking price is $18 million, which would easily be Brooklyn’s priciest real estate buy. (The current record is $12 million.)

Of course, $18 mil. is small potatoes in Manhattan, NY Daily News points out, as Madonna just dropped $40 million for her uptown crib.

But small potatoes or not, we love Brooklyn, and so did Capote — even before it was fashionable. In fact, the real estate listing even includes a quote by the former tenant himself:

I live in Brooklyn. By choice. Those ignorant of its allures are entitled to wonder why.

Photo via maximilian.jendralski on Flickr.

New York Magazine recently published a ranked list of the 50 most liveable neighborhoods in the city, and Brooklyn fared very well — not that we’re surprised. Of the top five neighborhoods, three were in Brooklyn: Park Slope (first place!), Cobble Hill & Boerum Hill, and Greenpoint (#5).

What makes a city liveable? NYMag relied on a complicated formula involving everything from cost of housing to the quality of public schools. Fortunately, they also created a Livability Calculator, allowing you to find the perfect neighborhood based on your own specific priorities — as well as certain handy presets for empty-nesters, childless couples, etc.

Photo via ms.flux on Flickr.

Brownstones in Park Slope

When you’re looking for an apartment in New York, a lot of questions come to mind. Is it affordable? Is the neighborhood safe? Can I get along with my roommate? (Not to mention concerns about proximity to work, the Subway, and/or the laundromat.)

But here’s one question you probably don’t ask yourself: Am I breaking the law? According to a recent article in The New York Times, breaking the law in group-living situations is easier than you think. That’s because, technically, it is illegal for four or more unrelated roommates to occupy a house or apartment in New York.

Who knew, right? Apparently, a law like this is not all that uncommon, as similar legislature exists in New Orleans, Boston, and Amherst, Mass.

Fortunately, the roommate policy is hardly ever enforced; The Times reports only three citations since last July. If it is enforced, it’s almost always following a noise complaint from a neighbor, or an infraction noticed by a maintenance team.

Plus, if the city does find out that you’re living with more than three other roommates, your landlord will be at fault — not you.

Image via Dede Le on Flickr.

Has anyone else noticed the fantastic weather lately? If you’re digging this climate as much as we are, you’ll probably love this photo of a blossoming Park Slope, via omphale44 on Flickr.

In Brooklyn, seeing a G train is pretty much like seeing a unicorn, except rarer. The only (non-shuttle) subway line that does not enter into Manhattan, the G has the potential to unite isolated regions of Brooklyn and Queens, but like a unmotivated prep school student, consistently fails to live up to our expectations.

Currently, people complain that G trains are infrequent, too short, and unfairly truncated during peak hours (it stops at Court Square in Long Island City, Queens on weekdays during the daytime, losing most of its Queens stops between Court and 71st Avenue in Forest Hills, Queens).

The thing is, the G wasn’t always terrible. The trouble started in 2001 with the inception of the V service, which covers the G’s Queens route during peak hours. To make matters worse, the MTA shortened the G train from six cars to four to make service more frequent, resulting in some cramped commuters.

Early this year, the G was out of the service for four weekends in a row while the MTA was making repairs. Shuttle buses filled in the gaps, and the Gothamist interviewed one New Yorker who preferred the shuttle to the G, as it was more reliable. Ouch.