Tomorrow at 2. I'll be bringing my velour cats playing poker wall tapestry

[Feline Frenzy at the Poker Table via]
THE Lower East Side has become a destination for those from other boroughs, other towns and other nations who seek a few hours of Manhattan life. On a recent Saturday night, on Rivington Street between Essex and Ludlow, it was easy to find people from Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island, England and Germany. It was harder to find a local resident.
Nearby, a stretch limousine idled, its passenger area illuminated by a black light and filled with champagne glasses. Inside, Luis Salcedo, the driver, waited for his evening’s charges — eight people from Queens. Mr. Salcedo said he was often called to drive to the area. “They always sing songs on the way,” he added.
“The greasy dude factor is low here,” said Sam Sellers, one of the resident D.J.’s. “You can play reggae and the guys aren’t grinding up all over the girls. It’s parties of friends, not one or two or three people looking for a night, so the energy is amazing.”
Here's what you need to know: it's a bar opening on the hush-hush. It used to be a small, nondescript pizza shop. And it now deals in oysters and burgers and rock and roll. On top of a speakeasy. Rest easy knowing that the speakeasy, Cabin Down Below, is still alive and dealing in hipsters, loud music and strong cocktails. But in place of mozzarella and red sauce, upstairs you'll find exposed brick, tufted black leather banquettes, an old chandelier or two and just enough light to see Agyness Deyn sitting in the corner.
The 1910 Congregation Mezritch Synagogue is the East Village’s last operating ‘tenement synagogue,’ so called because they occupied narrow tenement-sized lots and served residents of the surrounding tenements. This striking neo-classical style structure was supposed to be demolished in 2008 when GVSHP and the East Village Community Coalition staged public protests to save it and called upon the LPC to landmark the building. While the LPC did not, following the protests the developer of the condo which would have replaced the building backed out of the deal. The building was saved temporarily, but its ultimate fate is far from clear. GVSHP is completing a historic resources survey of the entire East Village, which will allow us to make strong arguments and recommendations for landmark protections throughout the East Village.
The show, up through this weekend and featuring more than 200 artists and 300 works, is part retrospective of the experience of squatting and part history of the building and the people it has housed, including both squatters and unknown inhabitants from previous centuries who left traces of their lives hidden behind walls or buried in the ground outside. Mr. Castrucci said he was motivated in part by a desire to document what had in some ways been a secret existence.
By many measures life is now less arduous, Mr. Castrucci said, but he still relishes the independence and freedom he and others found in the pre-gentrified days of the East Village, when it seemed for a while that the future could be written by anybody bold enough to act.
“We were a mixture of volunteers and dropouts from society” he said. “And I still haven’t figured out what category I was in.”
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In what some are calling the “East Village version of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’” customers and friends of Ray Alvarez — the two are really one and the same — have pitched in to help him start paying off his back rent, giving him and his store another lease on life.
"The helicopter was back last night (1/27/10). Woke me up at 4am, flying very low, was very loud. I'm at 12th and 1st in the EV. Really weird, I can't seem to find any answers."
"I've just been listening to a helicopter circle round and round the EV for about an hour...it seems to have stopped now. It was distinctly creepy..."
Did you hear the helicopters last night? So annoying.
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A Tuesday Money & Investing article about New York's Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper Village apartment complex was incorrectly accompanied by a photo of the Lillian Wald housing project on Manhattan's Lower East Side, which was misidentified as the Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper property.
You'd hesitate to call him a celebrity by any stretch of the imagination, but New York street/performance poet Bingo Gazingo's obscurity likely served as an aid to his singular imagination and oddball creativity.
With his often crude, spiky, agitated and hilarious rants about sex, dementia, and, especially, popular culture, Gazingo (born Murray Wachs in Queens in 1924) was a Monday night regular every week at New York's Bowery Poetry Club. He was struck by a taxi on his way to one of these very events, presumably on December 28th, and died on New Year's Day.
As a young man, he says, he worked as a logger for Broadcast Music Incorporated, or B.M.I., the music licensing agency, sitting over radio play lists with a blue pencil, identifying songs for which the company was entitled to royalties. And then, he says, he disappeared into the United States Postal Service, where he worked for decades sorting mail and loading trucks. "Doing that is like spending 20 years in one day," he says.
But through it all, he says, he never abandoned his dream of being a songwriter. He wrote ballads, novelties, show tunes, country-and-western songs, anything he thought would sell, and left them at stage doors at the Roxy, the Paramount and the Strand, in a time-honored tradition "to try to get my songs to the artists."
"But they never took one of my songs," he says, waving his hands at the memory. ''I thought I would be discovered or something, but it doesn't work that way."