Bush Terminal Park is my favorite park in the entire city, mostly because it’s quiet and nobody knows about it. That’s why I decided to disrupt the peace I’ve enjoyed for nearly two years by telling the readers at Brokelyn why it’s so great.
Among the new retail chains and makeshift EDM venues, however, was a small piece of heaven tucked away behind condemned warehouses and leftover trolley tracks. After decades and planning and two years of building, Bush Terminal Park quietly opened its gates in November of 2014 on the corner of 43rd Street and 1st Avenue. Yet nearly two years later, residents living in proximity to the park still do not know of its existence.
Read more over at Brokelyn.
The idea of getting back onto a bike came to me five years later, when I lost my editing job in the summer of 2014. All my newfound free time as an unemployed adult came with a new determination to check off some major to-do’s in my life: applying to grad school, finishing The Wire, and, of course, learning how to ride a bike.
The first two proved to be particularly soul-crushing, while the latter seemed rather silly at the age of 27. I could do my own taxes and had taught myself guitar, but I still couldn’t get on a bike.
I finally wrote about how I learned to ride a bike as an adult for Brokelyn. It’s something I’ve been meaning to write for a couple of years now.
Read more here.
If you’ve ever stepped off the train in South Slope/Greenwood Heights/whatever, you passed Supercollider and probably didn’t even realize it. Their signs in front of its location on Fourth Avenue between 17th and 18th streets were always barely lit and hard to read. The adjacent buildings were all but vacant and plastered with poison warnings. Even when compared to the mostly-desolate stretch of Fourth Avenue north of the bar, it still seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere.
But hidden behind its humble entrance was a large, friendly place that served as an offbeat hangout for people looking to get more than a few drinks in them, creative types looking to hone their craft and everyone in between. They were all strangely drawn to the allure of a lonely little bar in a part of town where places with more notoriety were only a block away on Fifth Avenue.
I wrote on Brokelyn about the closing of Supercollider, a neighborhood bar where the fabulous Christy Hall worked at and frequented.
Read more here.