Brooklyn la nuit

Tonight, I wanted to see what Williamsburg looked like on a Saturday night. It was that or doing the laundry, so . . . I hit the street faster than it takes to say "detergent."

I took the J train to Marcy, got out and walked to the river under the Williamsburg Bridge, spotted a dive bar with a pool for future reference and turned right to head north.

NOIR DÉSIR dans le lecteur CD. Une compilation personnelle. La voix torturée de Bertrand Cantat, les guitares brouillonnes, l'ambiance lourde: tout s'accorde parfaitement au décor de Brooklyn le long de l'East River. Les lofts desertés aux murs graphés. Lumières oranges. Routes defoncées. Rideaux de fer.

Took a picture of an oooold American car. Probably from the early 1950s. That's about all I can say. My knowledge of American cars has huge gaps. It sucks: I'm using my last roll of film. Black & white. I don't know when's gonna be the next time I can buy new films. Should've bought a digital camera while I could. Shoulda, coulda. Anyway, I shot the pic without using the flash. Had to stand perfectly still for 3 seconds. Low angle shot. I can't wait to see the result. Except of course that I already have 4 films in front of me that will have to wait till . . . till I don't know what. Till I can have them developed.

So in the meantime I'm like that girl in SKY CAPTAIN & THE WORLD OF TOMORROW -- asking myself every time I see something I want to shoot: is it worth it? will it make a good pic? It's already bad enough to have your only camera loaded with black & white film when you're in those narrow dimly light streets. Tout ce jaune et cet orange qui n'attendent que d'exploser sur pellicule et apporter leur touche d'irréel.

.......
Feel like I'm only bitching about money here. I don't care about money. Usually. But there's a point below which, whatever your views on the monetary and economic systems are, you just have to think about it. The lower you are, the more you have to worry about it. And you do. No doubt about that.

So yeah, I shoulda bought a digit. cam. when I could. I would have been able to shoot as many photos as I want now, instead of having to wait months before I can buy new rolls, have the old ones developed and find out whether I screwed them up.

So, how is Williamsburg on a Saturday night? Not too bad actually. Some weird things though. Like, basically, you can judge a neighborhood by it's liquor stores. Liquor stores in Williamsburg, they don't have bullet proof windows between the customers and the clerk. And also, the streets are full of white people. And also I think I've seen too many vegan/bio/health food stores in a single neighborhood... A whole new world only 5 minutes away by train from my home. A perfect negative of my own neighborhood. I prefer mine, though.

On the way back, I put on Serge Gainsbourg. L'HISTOIRE DE MELODY NELSON, suivi de L'HOMME A TÊTE DE CHOU, qui comptent facilement parmi les meilleurs albums de l'histoire de la chanson française.