Population Statistic: Read. React. Repeat.
Friday, July 10, 2021

Seems like this was the Friday for me to attract the attention of the everyday lunatics that populate our fair City. And just my luck, the incidents managed to frame my day, from start to finish:

In the morning - I stopped off at a *$ for a tea, cinnamon scone, and wi-fi session. Only a couple of minutes after I sat down and cracked open my notebook, along comes Mr. Loudmouth Whacko, to take a seat a couple of tables away. After wordlessly harassing a nearby woman into cutting her visit short, he turned to me, and loudly declared that God had made both my computer and me, and that he knew all about computers because he’d studied them, and thus they couldn’t blind him to God’s glory. Or something to that effect — I was checking my email and trying to cogitate on some copywriting I wanted to complete later in the morning. I was just getting ready to stare him down and/or tell him off when a Starbuckster came over to shush him, after which he slunk out the door and down the street.

In the evening - I was on the final stretch of my bus ride home, on an unusually empty bus (probably six other riders onboard). Just a couple of minutes from my stop, Mr. Social Butterfly Whacko piped up, from the opposite row of seats. He started by meowing — yes, like an alleycat — at me and/or the bus in general. When I turned my head ever so slightly to acknowledge the animal noises, he switched to English, and wanted to have an earnest conversation about why they hadn’t buried Michael Jackson yet. I kept my mouth shut throughout. He continued his convo unabated. Luckily, my stop came up soon enough, and I disembarked, unscathed.

Funny thing is, I can’t say these episodes bothered me all that much. The morning guy was starting to tick me off, mainly because I was trying to get a little work done, and he was obviously looking to just be a pest. But my annoyance melted away as soon as he was neutralized. The other guy was even easier to brush off. I guess I’m finally immune to the everyday random acts of societal dysfunction.

by Costa Tsiokos, Fri 07/10/2021 07:40pm
Category: New Yorkin', Society
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I don’t care how schedule-friendly and energizing it is, I say that sunlight and techno-dance-electronica don’t go together.

Unless you’re really bored on a Sunday, I guess:

Along with P.S. 1 and Bklyn Yard, whose parties both end at 9 p.m., the Water Taxi Beaches regularly host daytime dancing with a view, and smaller spaces in Brooklyn and Manhattan do after-work events indoors.

The line-ups at these early affairs, sometimes called tea parties, include established D.J.’s from Europe, Canada and techno hubs like Detroit who normally play to thousands at megaclubs. The glam Été d’Amour party, which is free and starts at brunch time on Sundays on the Hotel on Rivington’s penthouse, has featured Dimitri From Paris and Alex From Tokyo. (The stellar view is the Lower East Side, from the terrace.)…

Of course part of the appeal of many of the daytime parties is that they are G-rated. “People can bring their babies and their dogs,” said Justin Carter, a D.J. and promoter who is a host of Sunday Best. Since its start last year it has doubled in popularity, attracting an average of 600 people weekly.

Sounds like a straight edge scene in disguise. I bet more than one of these gatherings serves up those alcohol-placebo, vitamin-chocked “smart cocktails” that went out of vogue ten years ago.

by Costa Tsiokos, Fri 07/10/2021 02:26pm
Category: New Yorkin', Pop Culture, Society
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