It was a Friday night when I stepped off the L train into Williamsburg. I lit a cigarette and scanned the scene. The streets were crawling with hippies, hipsters, SWPLs, and bugmen, each one on their way to a reefer party or a “free love” orgy or a found film festival or whatever the hell degenerates do on nights like this. Williamsburg is one of the whitest places in New York City, but I didn’t feel any more at home among these freaks than I do in Harlem. (more…)
Counter-Currents