Mars Invasion

This frontline report comes in from photographer, JVNY reader, and Mars Bar habitue, Goggla.



A gaggle of girls came in to Mars Bar. One ordered a watermelon-flavored vodka with soda. By some chance, the watermelon was in stock, but had probably been sitting there for years.

She was horrified to find fruit flies in her drink and sent it back. The bartender held the glass to the light and just said, "Huh."

Another patron recommended the girl get a beer since that comes in sealed bottles. She insisted on a fresh drink from the same vodka. There were flies in the bottle.

We cheered and said that was lucky, but she walked out, leaving her jaw on the floor behind her.

*Everyday Chatter

Checking in with the Breslin holdovers: they're not allowed to enter through their own front door and they're only permitted to use the service elevator. [CN]

Poet of the LES, Jim Carroll has died of a heart attack. [NYT]

Ask an expert about the gentrification of Chinatown. [CR]

Michael Perlman writes in to say the Cheyenne Diner will finally "begin its long-awaited move to Alabama" tonight. So go by and say goodbye:


Gathering memories of the city's shuttered businesses. [EVG]

The outlook on Bleecker--is bleak. [FNY]

Looking at the once grand Hotel St. George. [GVDP]

*Everyday Chatter

It's been a slow, post-holiday week...so here's a little week in review:

All jokes (and fears) about the EV turning into one big frat house have come true. [Blah]

The frat-housers' Facebook page declares that nothing will match the insanity of the beer-pong partying on 12th St. [EVG]

Meanwhile, the Feast of San Gennaro gears up to confound the newly landed gentry in "Nolita." [BB]

A few ass shots from the Howl fest. [NMNL]

The new Sex & the City? Park Slope mommies--as SJP and HBO eye Sohn's new novel. [NYT]

Still, the cupcake crash is coming. [Slate]

A look at architectural life in Cooper Square. [FNY]

A historic bell tolls at Coney. [flickr]

Finally, Greenpoint has crusties! [NYS]

Spoonbill Kitties

I generally avoid going to Williamsburg, and when I do go there, I definitely avoid Bedford Avenue. However, someone recently told me to check out the Bedford bookshop Spoonbill & Sugartown, so I braved it. And glad I did--for this encounter with two bookstore cats.

It was a hot, muggy day. The cats were sleepy. The black cat was totally unconscious and immobile. Forget about trying to get a copy of whatever he's sleeping on.



The three-legged tabby was sitting at the back of the store, meowing loudly at a man trying to browse the fiction. He wasn't interested. I gave the tabby some attention and he flopped over and quickly lost consciousness.

One of the joys of New York City is its bookstore cats. When the bookstores are gone, of course, there will be no bookstore cats. Enjoy them while you can.



For more on these cats, check out their profile at Racked.

Hudson Cats

There's a sign in the window at Myers of Keswick on Hudson Street announcing the Facebook fan page of Molly the cat. You might remember her as the cat who got stuck in the wall and captivated the city for two weeks in 2006.

During that ordeal, she even got a free therapy session from renowned cat shrink Carole Wilbourn, who played "the music of humpback whales and ocean sounds" to soothe Molly in her imprisonment.



Three years after her rescue, Molly seems to be doing fine. But all the attention may have gone to her head. I walked by recently to find her waiting on the shop's doorstep. She looked up, fully expecting me, a passing stranger, to open the door for her. Of course, I obliged. She entered and didn't even bother to say thank you.

Her next-door neighbor, an unnamed bodega cat, is not so famous. No celebu-cat, he's not a "Baby Jessica." He didn't get trapped in any walls or wells. He doesn't have a single Facebook fan and he never got featured in the New York Times. Does he care? Does he feel overshadowed to this day by his more celebrated neighbor?

We may never know.

Cells, cells, cells

As summer ends and the cooler weather is around the corner, we will gradually see our streets loosen from the strangle-hold of bad cell-phone behaviors.


from my flickr

Until then, we still have senior citizens to protect us. They have no qualms whatsoever about telling people off. Walking on 9th Ave around 14th Street, there's a typical MePa dude on his cell phone, greased hair flopping into his sunglasses (cloudy day), letting his big dog take a huge steaming dump against a planted tree.

The old lady, elegantly dressed and taking no shit, says, "Could you do that in the curb please?"

Cell-phone guy says, "Sure," and does nothing.

The lady and I exchange a mutually exasperated look. I say, "He's too busy on his cell phone."

"Oh, right," she says, "too busy trying to decide between whole milk and skim milk. We have to hear the most inane conversations! Whole milk or skim milk, I heard him say. So stupid. Once, I saw a girl on her cell phone and tears were just streaming down her face. And I thought, Oh dear, she's been dumped on a cell phone!"

The lady laughed uproariously at the thought and said, "They do everything on these phones! Hello? Your father has died. Can you imagine?"

• See the Flickr group: Caught on Cell Phone

Cafe Thou Art

Over this summer, one night a week, you could find Jeffrey Packard's Cafe Thou Art in the small park at St. Mark's Church. It might still be there.



Packard sits with friends and passersby on folding chairs, by a neon sign, a pink flamingo, and a miniature mini-golf course (there's only one hole). If you stop and look curiously at it for a moment, he'll invite you to take a swing. It's not an easy shot.



On the Cafe Thou Art homepage, Packard writes, "The idea of the café is to create a place where people can meet. In its simplest form, the café consists of 2 chairs, a table, the lit neon sign: 'Café Thou Art' and refreshments and of course, mini-golf. The installations are sculptures that assemble time, space, and people. They are constructed in the Public domain to express the openness and expansiveness of hope in humanity."

It's a rare experience to sit and talk to strangers in a city where cafes are filled with laptops and cell phones--but even this installation has a live stream.