So yeah, there’s this collective next door, it’s some of these Afro-punk guys–Eric remembered some of them from the old L.E.S. who’ve relocated out here. Hell, when we had our wedding reception in the 1st floor space my Dad gets out of the car and remembers some of these guys from back in the day, though they’re not quite his age. So it’s them and a couple of other people. I guess I wouldn’t be spilling any beans to say that there’s some tensions between the two collectives, since there somehow got to be this whole article about that on AlterNet earlier this year. I can’t really give much comment because some of it has been going on since well before Eric and I came here, and basically I don’t have a quarrel with anybody until they give me a reason to have a quarrel with them. (Though I’ll readily admit that doesn’t take a helluva lot of effort either.) At the time this particular cartoon was written though, I think a lot of people were unsure where a lot of other people stood with things and were sizing and resizing each other up. The doorway we’re peering at each other through was a throughway made back when a number of buildings on the block were mob owned. I may have mentioned that in the past, I’m not sure, but I guess I get stuck on the fact because it’s an interesting tidbit of New York history to me. The guy with the dustpan? One time I guess he got annoyed that both houses placed trashbags at the same pick up point, so in the middle of the night he dumped the ones he figured were ours in front of our garage, slit open. I bring this up because although I was upset about it at the time, I’ve come to somehow regard it as kinda-sorta pretty damn hilarious in a way.