The Isolated Blurt Thread V: For Vendetta

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Looking for houses is tedious.

But while going through paperwork I happened upon a gift certificate for an hour long massage. I've never had a professional one before. When is it appropriate to demand a happy ending?
 
Looking for houses is tedious.

But while going through paperwork I happened upon a gift certificate for an hour long massage. I've never had a professional one before. When is it appropriate to demand a happy ending?

Demand?
 
Indeed, it's used for hulls, decking, etc, but I did not see where it's used as spars...

So, according to wiki:

thør - 1

iBoy - 0


Nobody in their right mind would use teak for spars.


 
Gonna miss you, old friend.

http://hyperallergic.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/pearlpait_pain.jpg

R.I.P., Pearl Paint.

:rose:

Anonymous said…

It's getting really difficult to buy art supplies without ordering them online these days. The ink in my Pentel brush pen ran out so I went in search of a refill cartridge, and almost no one carries the pen, let alone the refill cartridge. And this isn't a "weird" exotic art tool or anything.

The best part was when I went to Dick Blick in Chelsea and asked about refill cartridges and the salesperson there said, "Listen, I'll be honest with you--we don't sell *real* art supplies here" and we both kind of stared at each other, and then I went home and ordered the cartridge on Jetpens.com.

APRIL 10, 2014 AT 10:33 AM

Lisa said...
I think the map of the "neighborhood retailers" is what makes me the saddest. When people ask me if I miss NYC (I left in 2005), I tell them I miss a NYC that's no longer there.

APRIL 10, 2014 AT 11:20 AM

akashamoonstone said...
This is awful....I've been going to Pearl since I could draw. I have always bought my art supplies there. No one compares to Pearl. Even when I moved to PA, I would still take trips to NYC just to get my supplies and I still do!! AC Moore and Michael s don't compare as those are craft stores. Why would anyone allow this to happen? Doesn't NYC have enough expensive apartment complexes? This will devastate a lot of artists such as myself. Unbelievable. I feel like crying :(

APRIL 10, 2014 AT 1:19 PM

Anonymous said...
The entire fabric & character of Manhattan is being wiped away because of mega corporate GREED.

They pulled out the roots of the old city and banished it elsewhere. People are tired of traveling from around the world to visit a city which lacks character. Unfortunately many of the world's great cities are trying to follow in NY's footsteps.

APRIL 10, 2014 AT 2:02 PM

Scuba Diva said...
This makes me sad; when I was a student at the Cooper Union—which was then tuition-free—I went down to shop at Pearl often with my friends. We also went to the long-gone Canal Jean Company, and many other SoHo stores that have since vanished. (Anyone remember Jaap Rietman books? They were a 2nd-floor store somewhere in SoHo.)

I pass Pearl often because I now walk dogs in Tribeca; I definitely need to go in, probably tomorrow. I agree completely with the commenter who thinks we should do a Kickstarter or other fundraiser for Pearl. And yes, the time is long past at which the city should regulate rents of storefronts in much the same way they've regulated apartments.

APRIL 10, 2014 AT 11:20 PM

Anonymous said...
I was there today, tipped off to the sale by an artist in my building. Two employees said it is closing NEXT Thursday, April 17th. It's four blocks from our apartment and I have shopped there, almost exclusively, for art supplies for 20 years for myself, my son, to help supply his classrooms, for my dad, for gifts for nieces and birthday gifts and for art supplies for art basket prizes. End of an era.

APRIL 11, 2014 AT 7:52 PM

Bill Weber said...
I worked at Pearl Paint while attending Parsons in the early 80s. Loved walking down to Canal Street along Mercer,where there were still manufacturing companies. Used to get a cheap, full meal for lunch at a coffee shop around the corner from Pearl on Broadway. Now New York is a tourist and shopping culture. I think the Perlmutter family owns the Pearl Paint building. The art business is as different today as the city is different today. RIP Pearl Paint.

APRIL 11, 2014 AT 9:34 PM

Anonymous said...
This one just broke my heart. I was an employee there back in the 1980s, in the brush department. We always had the best time. Everyone was a working artist...we all made the craziest signs for fun and could dress any damn way we wanted. The guy I worked with day and night had a band and he proposed daily that I join him on stage as a back-up singer. I never did it, but those were the days....everyone had high hopes of making it here and we all supported each other. Once I waited on Bob Dylan, who came in to buy some oil paint. I still have my employee name tags...it was the BEST JOB EVER. Tears, actual tears. I can't believe it.

APRIL 13, 2014 AT 7:23 AM

Anonymous said...
Pearl Paints will be missed. I remember when there were long lines for you to be waited on. I felt like this was the place to be as an artist. In recent years, I didn't understand why they did not just consolidate and house all the stores in one building for cost effectiveness and maybe rent out the top floors to other companies to survive? The framing department can't be replaced for the quality, service, and professionalism. The employees were always pleasant and helpful. Lack of good management. It's a shame but you have to keep up with the times to exist.

APRIL 13, 2014 AT 5:56 PM

R.C. said...
Congratulations, New York. After being the epicenter of all things unconventional, cool, and trendsetting, you are officially an open air shopping mall for tweens, trust fund babies and the Kloe Kardashians of the world. Bravo! Well, there is an upside. We'll never be for wont of a Walgreens, Duane Reades, Rite Aid, CVS, Bank of America, Starbucks or 7/11!

APRIL 14, 2014 AT 4:31 PM



http://24.media.tumblr.com/0462bfa9cbdf9c774732b28cd850f0d0/tumblr_mgw52cJ2Og1s3fblro1_400.gif
 
monica had grown weary of the drive...
and had now come to the custom
of stopping at a new business
each day
that she would normally pass on the way there
and back
each day
mindlessly.

a hollow metal door opened
to a long dark hall leading towards the back of the building.
the sudden whoosh of the door
invited her in with an aromatic eruption of...
spiced grilled meats and...
...a murmur of...
oddly pleasant music and sultry laughter.
sweet secrets speaking freely.
above the door was scrawled "fred's end" and an arrow...
in
to the darkness.

yesterday
had found monica at the "green day" 1 hour - organic dry cleaners...
a smiling thai lady
with a stack of "fitty sint-off coupon".
light lime green walls peeking through a wash and smell of crinkling plastic cocoons...
"tuesday, five fo tree!" - in an angry hungry cat's voice...
stiff smiles and quick nods...
she took the business card to be nice.
and...
if in a pinch some time? why not?

bar b que up the street.
the guys at the shop swore by it
and she would now too...
carolina, not texas... but sweet.
a gem in the weeds.
reasonable.
friendly.

of course, she'd known the gas stations
and the quick mart... (though the quick mart not as well...)
the sunoco had the cleanest restroom;
with seat shields and a double lock
and coke zeros in the cooler
and the occasional loosies
if you asked the man behind the glass...
and she needed one...
the phillips 66 had the high school kids who pumped it for you..
washed the windshields, but only so so...
and so more bother than not.

she'd yet avoided the palm reader with the errant-flicker neon above the window
and the liquor store with the rough looking blacks out front.
they served as tests each day as she passed...
and though part of the eventual tour, she hadn't been of mind quite yet to tackle them.

there were a number of joints that beckoned with less courage
and thus
easier to fulfill...
and then the still odder ones
which drew her...
beyond any mere curiosity.

of course, she'd been to the police station...
both in that night
and in the several weeks afterward...
they had been kind to her at first...
and then moved on to other items of immediate interest...

paul's case was not closed, but it was cold.
and though she burned ever more hotly
to understand what had happened down here,
the cops were attending lower hanging fruit...
not to the drying bones...

it was not only grilling meat,
but onion and garlic and something else she could not quite place
but...
it, and...
the darkness
drew her in
down a strange hall of discovery
and perhaps...
an understanding
as necessary nourishment.
 
Just because I'm standing in the middle of an octagon sweating my balls off doesn't mean I'm not an intelligent person, there was no need for that asshole to speak to me like a child.
 
My sister has a dog that's half poodle, half wiener dog. She calls him a wienie-poo. I call him shit dick. I hate that dog.
 
Just because I'm standing in the middle of an octagon sweating my balls off doesn't mean I'm not an intelligent person, there was no need for that asshole to speak to me like a child.

Over at the State Capital Retounda? ;)
 
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