why I (heart) brooklyn
(I mean besides Nathan’s hot dogs)
Why I (heart) Brooklyn? Why do I?
Heh, heh. Because it’s over there, and not here in Manhattan!
Yeah, yeah, all my Brooklynite friends love to evoke the charms of Brooklyn. To hear them talk, you’d think you were in the Brooklyn of Arsenic and Old Lace, only cooler and with music. But I’ve been to Brooklyn, you see, and I know what’s out there. Kids, kids, and more snotty little kids. What’s more, it’s where overgrown kids from Manhattan go when they’re ready to settle down and reproduce. And make more… you got it: kids.
It’s also, egads, a haven for people who play or like to listen to… the, the wha..? the theramin?
Check out A Brooklyn Life, and hear Crafty sing the praises about this weird instrument of torture. I suppose the theramin is Brooklyn’s equivalent of 5th Avenue’s bagpipes, or Times Square’s saw player, both objects of either affection or bewildered disgust but never anything in between. Have a look:
(image from here)
Look, I know there are those who insist that Brooklyn is New York City too! I personally don’t think anything that’s on this side of a bridge or tunnel is New York City. Yeah, I’m one of those people. But awright awready. I realize I’m outvoted. And hey, as long as Brooklynites don’t try to Brooklynize Washington Heights, I’m happy.
I didn’t say I didn’t like Brooklyn. I like Dumbo’s spanish bar behind York Street station. I love Coney Island in any season. Love the bikini-clad slavic men on Brighton Beach, they always make my day, and the bigger the love-handles the more gleeful I am. (Why should men be allowed to preserve their dignity by wearing those baggy bermudas when we women are such good sports about being so exposed?) And apparently there’s some great hot chocolate to be had over there.
And FYI: I LOVE bagpipes.