The Fruitvale of Greenpoint

I went running on Thanksgiving. Abbreviated because of the rain, only about 2 miles. It was my first time not running on the track; instead I went down by the waterfront, by the warehouse that burned.

Some people see all that desolate, crumbling, abandoned city industrial architecture and get disgusted, think it's an ugly part of town, imagine it's all a sign of a depressed or failing economy.

Developers see the possibility of an invented neighborhood, like the one fake street that sprang up by the IKEA in Emeryville, CA: cleanly paved streets, million-dollar condos with stainless/granite/marble bullshit, city views, J.Crew, Sunglasses Hut, Pizzeria Uno, that type of thing. I think that's what is supposed to happen over there.

Don't get me wrong, I am not into hating on now only to love on yesterday. And I am a real estate agent, so I have to find some way to love what is going to happen in my neighborhood. After all, I am teaching a class about how awesome progress is.

Maybe it's too many years living by the railroad tracks in Fruitvale, staring out my bedroom window at the field, the freeway, feeling my bed rattle and shake when the train went by. I just think all that decrepit falling down building stuff is beautiful.