There's now a new ad in the window giving a better description of the property, which can be split into two storefronts.
And what are some of the suggested uses? (No bars, thank you!)
Hmm...Yoga center...Pilates...Yogurt...Ice Cream...Zzzzzzzzzz...Pastry and Desserts....Spa...ZZzzzzzzz....
Arakawa and Madeline Gins's quest to make human beings immortal is at risk of dying.
That's because the couple lost their life savings with Bernard Madoff, the mastermind of a multibillion-dollar fraud.
Of all the dreams that were crushed by Mr. Madoff's crime, perhaps none was more unusual than this duo's of achieving everlasting life through architecture. Mr. Arakawa (he uses only his last name) and Ms. Gins design structures they say can enable inhabitants to "counteract the usual human destiny of having to die."
The income from their investments with Mr. Madoff helped fund their research and experimental work. Now, Mr. Arakawa, 72 years old, and Ms. Gins, 67, are strapped for cash. They closed their Manhattan office and laid off five employees.
The pair's work, based loosely on a movement known as "transhumanism," is premised on the idea that people degenerate and die in part because they live in spaces that are too comfortable. The artists' solution: construct abodes that leave people disoriented, challenged and feeling anything but comfortable.
You would think someone aiming for immortality would have learned to take better care of their cash. Immortals need a sound, conservative investment strategy. Let's face it: we don't want the world filled with destitute 200 year-olds living in the streets.
All the girls who are not in the pages of fashion magazines. The girls that live in the East Village in New York you see walking down St Mark's. They didn't look at a fashion magazine or go to Barneys and put something on their credit card. I like girls who are really eccentric and kooky. I love the rockabilly look -- not a rockabilly look because it's "this season", but the real deal. Believe it or not, there was a lot of that look in Dallas where I grew up.
The recession seems to have a sweet tooth. As unemployment has risen and 401(k)’s have shrunk, Americans, particularly adults, have been consuming growing volumes of candy, from Mary Janes and Tootsie Rolls to Gummy Bears and cheap chocolates, say candy makers, store owners and industry experts.
Theories vary on exactly why. For many, sugar lifts spirits dragged low by the languishing economy. For others, candy also provides a nostalgic reminder of better times. And not insignificantly, it is relatively cheap.
“People may indulge themselves a little bit more when times are tough,” said Jack P. Russo, an analyst with the Edward Jones retail brokerage in St. Louis. “These are low-cost items that people can afford pretty easily.”
Within the walls of one freshman dorm exists a magical place, known to most first-year students only as “Narnia.” Narnia’s mythical reputation as a refuge in which students sip beer and smoke marijuana without RA interference has spread like wildfire throughout the freshman class.
Indeed, the rumors are based on truth. The party never stops in Narnia: nearly every day of every week, four suitemates invite friends and strangers alike to celebrate life with sex, music, alcohol and weed.
Narnia is actually an eight-by-four-foot room in a spacious suite. The room is clean and uncluttered with a bedsheet spread across the floor. Photographs and hand-drawn illustrations adorn the sanctuary’s walls, and lava lamps, ashtrays and a defunct popcorn maker sit near a small window. A large poster of “The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian” rests on the room’s center wall.
The recession is such a bummer. Wouldn't it be nice to time travel to a simpler era the 1950s when money was plentiful, appliances were shiny, and rock was just beginning to roll? A carefree time, when wiggling a Hula Hoop rather than watching the Dow plummet was the favored pastime, and love could be found at a sock hop. Happily, a DeLorean time machine a la "Back to the Future" isn't necessary. Doo-wop shows, record hops, and soda fountains are all here. As it turns out, happier days can be had again.
This Upper East Side dining room, a one-time neighborhood joint for Bernie Madoff, hasn't changed its mood since it opened in the '50s.
Mr. Ziprin, a brilliant, baffling, beguiling voice of the Lower East Side and the East Village in all its phases — Jewish, hipster and hippie — died last Sunday in Manhattan. He was 84. The cause was chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, his daughter Zia Ziprin said.
For decades, Mr. Ziprin, a self-created planet, exerted a powerful gravitational attraction for poets, artists, experimental filmmakers, would-be philosophers and spiritual seekers.
He ran his apartment, on Seventh Street in the East Village, as a bohemian salon, attracting a loose collective that included the ethnomusicologist Harry Smith, the photographer Robert Frank and the jazz musician Thelonious Monk, who would drop by for meals between sets at the Five Spot. Bob Dylan paid the occasional visit.
