Dave Ford Does Earth

Posted by Dave Ford

HATE ON THE SUBWAY

This morning I sat on the subway across from a white man–probably around my age–who had the letters H-A-T-E tattooed across the knuckles of his left hand from pointer to pinky. I thought about asking him what it was exactly that he hated so much but his scowl gave me the impression that the conversation would have ended with the word hate tattooed on my forehead. In hindsight, I should have asked him anyway. What the hell? I really do wonder what he hates: The government? The rain? The Olson twins? hipsters? Reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond? The only things that I hate with a passion are lima beans and Celine Dion’s music. Something tells me that this dude also hates Celine Dion. Maybe we could have found common ground and became friends.

A TIME WARP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE

In the afternoon I picked up my bike at the shop in the East Village and rode to our place in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Along the way, I had to traverse the East River, which divides Manhattan from Brooklyn and Queens. I decided to take the Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn and was thrust into a sprawling Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. By and large, the only people visible in this neighborhood were of the Hasidic community. Their distinct, traditional black dress and curly sideburns are unmistakable. While wondering what it must be like to be a Hasidic Jew in NYC I got terribly lost. I did not know that Hasidicville borders scarytown and run-for-your-life land. The 5 miles turned quickly into 10 but I did manage to escape the afternoon unscathed. I did some research and found that a massive wave of Hasidic Jews immigrated from Eastern Europe to the USA in the 1880’s. Their style of dress is reminiscent of what the Jewish population in Eastern Europe wore 130 years ago.

Sidenote: My bike helmet is too small and I look like a huge dork.

MIDNIGHT NUTRITION IN BUSHWICK

Last night I went out in Bushwick, a 40 minute bike ride north of where I live. Bushwick is industrial, dirty, and remote. Many of the buildings are covered in graffiti. But despite its desolate appearance, this neighborhood is teeming with life. If you turned Bushwick upside down and shook it real hard at least 20,000 hipsters would fall out. There is also more dog shit on the ground then in Paris and Buenos Aires combined. But, make no mistake, a positive vibe runs through the community.

My friend Jesse and I went to a party–my first party in New York.  From the outside the building looked like a factory. We walked down concrete hallways and saw that there was at least 60 people in the large loft. There was a DJ booth and a stage. At the time of our arrival there was some sort of performance art happening. Three women–one in her 20s, one in her 30s, and one who looked like she was 60–were on stage doing some sort of spoken word/singing/dance combination. Among other things that did not make sense, the phrases “Are you OK?”, “Am I OK?”, and “I am OK” were projected on the screen behind the women. The women would sing and chant in unison whatever was projected. If I said their act was extremely weird and borderline unsettling would that be judgmental?

Next,  the party host played a slide show of his art. It consisted of garbage that he picked up off of the street in the neighborhood and had covered with multicolored layered wax. His premise was that he took something ugly and made it beautiful.

At right around midnight “the chef” took the stage. For the next 10 minutes she gave a presentation to the group about “the new food nutrition pyramid.” Apparently, the old food pyramid was created by the government to appease the fast food giants. I realized quickly that I need to eat a hell of lot more whole grains, natural oils, and vegetables. Shortly thereafter, it hit me that I was getting a presentation about nutrition at midnight on a Saturday night and that I needed to leave immediately.

We left the party and promptly went to a local bar. A stinky dance party ensued shortly thereafter.

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