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NYC // DAY 2

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För er som hellre läser på svenska. Woke up on Sunday, knocked out and starving. We got dressed and Nicolas guided us through the wide streets of Bushwick, filled with graffiti and South American families playing loud music and hanging out on their porches. Our goal was brunch at North East Kingdom. Nicolas Pilaprat Bushwick Brunch It was packed and we had to wait outside before being seated. Did not mind at all as the sun seemed to be exploding over the streets of Brooklyn, telling everybody that summer is far from coming to an end. After 20min of baking we got to enjoy the cool of the AC inside while sipping tea, like true Englishmen, even Nicolas. brunch Shitty foodpic as I was starving for my fried eggs and potato wedges, all locally produced and whatnot. MMMMM. brunch2 An hour of curing our hangovers and non-stop shivering due to the air con, we were out on the streets again. bros Nicolas was obviously Tindering away while pretending to look up what to do next. bushwick Daniel on the wide roads of Bushwick. boyz A match. ANYWAYS. After enough date app-ing we went to this mystic boutique which sold black vagina/penis candles I wish I had bought but instead we took the subway up to Williamsburg. Manhattan skyline The area was heavy with hipsters and the midday sun so we bought a few cans of coke and hid away from it all by the water. But yes, mainly to see the Manhattan skyline, and it was pretty fucking great. Nicolas Pilaprat Mr Nicolas. Brooklyn Flea4 Then it was time for Williamsburg Flea. Brooklyn Flea2 Biker jackets and americana sweatshirts, old and new jewelry, ugly toys and stolen registration plates, hand made furniture and throwaway goods. brooklyn flea If I had lived in Brooklyn myself, I had no doubt wanted to by a whole load of stuff there, but this time we didn’t buy anything but instead kept on zigzagging the surrounding streets. second hand To Nicolas’ favourite vintage shop in Brooklyn. And yes, it was crammed and full of gems. Nicolas’ friend texted him and told us to come straight to some skater bbq party in Greenpoint, which sounded pretty awesome as it includes three of this world’s best things (food, alcohol and skater boys, in that order) so off we went. SUBWAY Subway again, to the tunes of some street musicians. Magazine shop But first off at Metropolitan Avenue in Williamsburg where we would find The Newsstand. It’s a little pop up magazine shop which sells the most indie zines, random mix tapes, other odd little illustrations and graphic tote bags. We found Marlowe’s newest zine “Everything I Never Told You” which is btw worth checking out everybody. sybway ride Sorting through some more app babes before walking across the deserted streets of Greenpoint. It could’ve been in New Mexico or Texas with tumble weed rolling among the ware house complexes for all I know. It definitely was as hot and as suspiciously empty too. pilaprats And finally there! And if that party wasn’t awkward I don’t know what is. Around eight skater punks, obviously super close friends, hanging out on the ramps built out of shipping crates, skating and barbecuing. No music and no sign of Nicolas’ friend. Oh well, they were nice enough and fucking cool as we are we stayed and hung around anyways. NP NP2 Nicolas watching some skating. DRPP crown heights Daniel watching some skating. crown heights2 Ouch. Naah, they weren’t that good and not talking to anybody at a small party you ended up not really being invited to only works for so long, so we left. Taking the back street obviously. NYC subway Relieved we at least laughed at getting away from that absurd situation and got on the subway again. myrtle broadway Couldn’t wait to get back to Bushwick and crack open some cans to the new Hologram’s album. bushwick nicolasbushwick brothers Pilaprats. We chilled at the flat for a few hours, drinking beers and playing music in the breeze of the fan, still knackered from the flight and the previous night. The two brothers took turns in explaining gossip about bands/events/friends I didn’t know and my grasp of the Pilaprat world expanded multiple times. But as we had a dinner date we had to get moving. First to the convenience store picking up some Harley Davidson beer (!) where you could also buy single cigarettes (?!). This country.. Spicy Village By eight we got to the restaurant of the night: Spicy Village. From the outside looking like a shithole but supposedly one of the most outstanding Chinese restaurants in NYC, of course located in China Town. There the lovely punk rock couple Claire and Dennis waited. Probably the most hardcore looking two I’ve ever met and they turned out to be even nicer than they looked wicked, which is saying a lot. spicy village bros We sat down in the simple little room with bright florescent lights which gave a feeling of sitting in a fridge. We ordered by pointing at pictures as the little Chinese lady didn’t really speak English and we surely did not speak Mandarin. Fascinating. We opened the Harley cans and the food just kept coming. Loads of it and the next dish being even more tasty than the previous. Pork noodles, vegetable noodle soups, dumplings, duck pancakes, dim sum, Chinese broccoli etc. Overwhelmingly delicious and all for something like $12 each. Meanwhile we talked about bands and tattoos, gigantic gigs at crazy small venues and future dreams of owning countryside hostels. spicy village2 Stuffed, tipsy and pleased we said bye to Dennis and Claire and continued walking up to West Village and the club Sway. Apparently they do a the Smiths/Morrisey night there every Sunday which sounds more than brilliant to me. We don’t even get that here in London for god’s sake. And of course, it was brilliant. Didn’t take any photos but it was a narrow club, filled with booths, dimmed lights and dark corners. After ordering some cans (AND TIPPING, DON’T FORGET TIPPING, they’ll slize you’re throat, seriously) we sat down, spoke about girls and exes and dj-nights in London. It still astonishes me how Americans seem so taken by the British music scene, as these uk bands was playing everywhere. Rightfully so. le bain Slightly tipsy we swapped venues again, and this time it was for Le Bain. Queuing up outside, people were denied entry as a private party was being held. Bullshit of course. Just a posh way of saying you don’t look the part, which again, is bullshit. Anyway, with a pair of good looking twins I reckoned I’d get in anywhere, and we were indeed let in. The elevator man pressed the button for floor 23 and up we went, an elevator crammed and ever so quiet. As we reach floor 22 the sound of a bass reached us and as we came to a halt the doors opened and a mix of neon lit smoke and blasting house music hit us. Like a stereotypical scene from a cool party taken from whatever 90’s film. And yes, it was pretty fucking cool too. The boys loving French House seemed like they were in heaven, bopping their heads in sync like characters from a Japanese video game. As we went out on the terrace which had the sickest view of pretty much half of the world, I wasn’t far from heaven either. We ordered well strong whiskey gingers and sat down between pathetic finance guys, drugged hipster girls and generally posh people and continued our conversations. The rest of the night included a lot of Shazaming and a drug dealer shoving a gram of cocain “for free” in my hand that I kindly declined before taking a taxi back home.   Linn


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Because subcultures are among the most fascinating things there are, plus the fact that this one combines my upbringing in Africa with my love for punk music.   Linn  

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