Flatbush and thinking about your 'hood.

Not too long ago I moved to Flatbush, Brooklyn (or Kings - whatever the case may be). It's a swell neighborhood, filled to the brim with people, just like anywhere in Brooklyn. We live on the southern end of Flatbush in an area called Lefferts Garden. Our street is Parkside Ave, lined by some five or six story apartment complexes and a number of three- to four-story Brooklyn brownstones (although they are technically limestones I guess).
I live in this duplex in the third and fourth floors. I currently have three female roommates and our newest addition is about to arrive from Oregon tomorrow. He's a dude, and I'm looking forward to having some more testosterone in the apartment.
I began this current posting so that I could bookmark, in a sense, a website that I have been meaning to come back to and read, but haven't spent the effort to do such quite yet. It's a blog about Lefferts Garden, but I'm not sure how recently it was updated.
There's a lot to be said about this area of Brooklyn. We've got working class West Indians, like my landlord who's from St. Kitz. Most of them have emigrated from Jamaica, Trinidad or Tobago, although they could have hailed from parts of Africa, too, I think. Then you've got the whites that are either young transplants to the big apple, or those families who have probably been here considerably longer, and have gotten some funds together to buy one of these limestone duplexes at a much more competitve price than something you'd find on the west-side of Prospect Park or in Manhattan (but that is a foregone conclusion, really).
There is a bit of regular violence in this neck of the woods, and it hasn't created a safe-feeling environment for my female roommates. I'm sure a lot people feel vulnerable, too, but it's one of those things that you have to ultimately accept. Now, by saying that I don't mean to just shrug it off and write it off as an acceptable aspect of life in this part of the world, but to realize that you have to compassionately aware of what happens without letting it sharply affect your soul and well-being. I wouldn't have been able to adapt to living here if I weren't able to look at my lot in life in that sense.
OK, that's it for now, milkbuff.

English Leather Pt. 1

In the restless promotion of self-promoting, I promote something else: possibly the world's greatest and most timeless men's skin dressing. No, I'm not talking about Gold Bond or being hosed down by countless bottles of Veuve Clique after winning the NBA World Championship (although that would be pretty sweet and if anyone wants to challenge me on that issue, then I'd be more than willing to concede, especially if you gave me a bottle sip on my own with some super awesome OJ so I could get swilled on Mimosas...).  Anyway, it's time to get on with your life, so please watch the video, but it would be unfair of me to request you enjoy it. Maybe, rather, appreciate it. The second part will be uploaded shortly. 

Is there is a first of infinity?

That's a pretty cliché title of the first entry, but whatever. Anyway, I created this blog for a few reasons. 

First, I recently moved to Brooklyn, NY, and if anyone is anyone here in the city (anyone that doesn't have a band, isn't really boring or a luddite) has a blog. I, until recently, was bloglesss and felt incredibly naked. Kind of like the time that I got in the shower. 

Two, I need a homepage (of sorts) and I'm web 2.0 illiterate. Maybe one of these days I'll learn some Photoshop and Dreamweaver and Flash, but until then, I'm just plodding along with this archaic video-editing software. 

Three, because I'm full of myself and hope that someone instantly gives me a million dollars for blogging about banal things like the subway, my roommates, and local foods. 

Thank you for your time. Go State