things i’m doing this weekend… that don’t involve the jitney.
bob moses on the output rooftop.
have you listened to this guy? because he’s fantastic. and there’s nearly nothing better than being on a rooftop in williamsburg, surrounded by your closest friends and hippest strangers, drinking frozen drinks at sunset. nothing. so don’t miss it.
SATURDAY– sunrise to sunset
morning gloryville at 320 kent ave
their slogan- “rave your way into the day”… has anyone ever done that and had it end well? because i haven’t. however, i love making any mistake more than once. let’s do this.
full moon festival, brooklyn mirage
did you not get enough of kite string tangle friday night? join them, 24 of their closest friends, and the moon tonight in bushwick. this party has been happening for the midsummer full moon 5 years and counting. but don’t let that phase you- neither popularity nor passion are waning.
bike tour de bushwick
something about bushwick comes alive on sundays. people grilling meats on the streets, a psuedo-national-pride parade at every turn, loud music playing with a distinctive south american beat, and beer. all that’s missing is you, and your bike. hop on and follow my rad bar guide, and maybe reclaim the dignity you left there yesterday.
worked up an appetite? for carbohydrates shrouded in mystery? well, good news-
river styx in greenpoint= secret password sunday
so. fortunately this blog is not famous yet, because if it were, i’d likely be beheaded for announcing this. if you’re here reading, you are lucky. come closer to the screen. closer. (closer!) go to river styx restaurant sunday night. any sunday night. get a table, and when the waiter comes over, whisper “meatballs” to him. or her. it doesn’t matter, just say “meatballs”- and BOOM. free dinner- spaghetti and homemade meatballs. plus their inventive cocktails and well-procured wine selections, you have a perfect way to end the weekend. take a little walk through transmitter park after. fall in love with brooklyn, again.
now go to bed. unfortunately, monday waits for no one. except i’d imagine the pope.