#96th street

[bucktransit]

[wanderingnewyork]

From 2018: The #96th_Street_Station on the Nos. 1, 2 and 3 lines, #Manhattan.

[dirtcola]

Apparently now that the Long Island Railroad has been connected to Grand Central, the escalators that connect the LIRR to the Madison concourse are even longer and steeper than the ones at 34 St Hudson Yards! I haven't used them personally because I haven't taken the LIRR in a long time, but the video still makes me dizzy.

[seanmccaughan]

Hot Trashy Mess Of A House in Miami Shores Quickly Lands Multiple Offers

The jack-o-lanterns are particularly freaky.

Looking at the listing photos for this house in the heart of Miami Shores, one has a few questions. First, what the heck happened and how did it get this way? The place is an absolute, abandoned wreck. Second, what’s with those jack-o-lanterns in the kitchen? Third, how about that library with improvised bookshelves made of wood planks and cinder blocks? And finally, what happened to those rad…

[oldguardleatherdog]

The Night Before the Tribute In Light September 10, 2003

I.

One month ago today, this long-forgotten photo suddenly popped up in the photo app on my laptop. I took this photo with my Sanyo clamshell phone on September 10, 2003, 21 years ago tonight, from Hudson River Park in Manhattan.

Don't ask me how it survived all these years or where it's been stored all this time or how in the world it could have found its way to me from the long-dead storage servers of a long-defunct cell phone carrier. We're in the penumbra of The Anniversary, and time is out of joint.

I had been back in New York for about a month (after getting violently run out of the place I was staying by a fellow who is now one of my closest friends), homeless and living in that roach-infested HIV crack-house shelter at 96th and Broadway that I describe in "The One Decent Thing I Ever Did" (it’s archived on this blog), and you can imagine my state of head and spirit at this moment, the night before the 2nd anniversary of the terror attacks on the World Trade Center that drove me from my home in Lower Manhattan, four blocks east of the site.

I was sitting on a bench in Hudson River Park on the West Side of Manhattan, somewhere near Houston Street, maybe ten or fifteen blocks north of World Trade. I hadn't noticed these beams of light as I walked, and I think they might have just been activated while I was sitting there. As I recall, it was a full moon in Virgo, and I was positioned just right to snap this shot. I had *no* idea what this was all about, as I recall, but I thought the image was so striking and affecting that I wanted to capture it.

As it turns out, this was the tech run-through for the first September 11th installation of the “Tribute In Light”. Here’s Google’s AI summary of this remarkable memorial:

So there I was, just two years after the blast, stunned by this sudden, mysterious apparition rising from just south of what was still a giant, messy hole in the ground. I was still not fully myself at that time and would not regain my full memory or sense of who I was until the following January (therein lies a tale!), and as I recall I was just numbly stunned, not knowing what to make of it.

As I write, I’m getting the physical sense memory of that moment: the dog in me (my medulla oblongata speaking) feels his hackles rise, it’s not what I expect to see filling the hole in the sky, is it another attack? Do I bark at it, sound an alarm, run towards it, away from it, why is there light there, is this some unholy ruse, another trick being played on me from that big smoky hole where nothing but poison has spilled out for the longest time?

My phone rang. It was a fellow that I had met and hung out with in San Francisco while I was stranded there, and I was stunned to hear from him, especially at that moment. “Hi Dave… well, right now I’m on the riverfront looking at the damnedest thing… [I just wanted to make sure you were ok] hey, thanks for checking in… yeah, take care bud.” I closed the phone and started walking south along the riverfront, toward the light beams.

When I got there, I saw the massive banks of klieg lights assembled in their arrays, a strange and unfamiliar (unwelcome) echo of the shapes and the placement and the footprints of the place I loved so well.

The faces of the artists who surrounded the lights were intense, focused, sober. I still didn’t quite know what was going on, but there was profound reverence in the air, on those faces, at that place, as the beams of pure white light soared upwards, past the point of naked-eye discernment, unending, likely petering out tens of thousands of feet off that spoiled piece of ground, perhaps piercing the ionosphere, did they get clearance from the Federal Aviation Administration for this? Are pilots being disoriented by these columns at 45,000 feet? Do they touch the feet of God?

II.

And I kept walking south, my back to the light,

Down to the oldest part of the civilized island,

Past the Battery, the bronze bull, the buttonwood tree,

The Port of New York dead ahead,

The Staten Island Ferry terminal, ramshackle, ancient,

Entry restricted by terror tape and armed sentinels

No two uniforms alike, a panoply of enforcement,

Heavy weapons at the ready, so jarring in my neighborhood,

And the working dogs with the keen snouts, the trained muzzles,

Jumping up to paw at the brown bag in the soldier’s hand

Is that peanut butter? Apple? Hunk of cheese?

Let’s play! You’ve been so serious, so worried,

You smell sad and scared, are you lost? Let’s play!

Even Cerberus needs break time, belly rubs, treats!

For the first time in weeks, I smile to myself

As I round past the ferry, those strange lights at my back.

Hope I can sneak past the turnstile downstairs,

I won’t have to hike back up three hundred blocks

To that awful low place. Did you know roaches bite?

They shit on you too. Try to sleep, fully dressed,

Watch cap pulled low on my head, long sleeved shirt

Buttoned up to the collar, heavy pants tucked in boots,

Gloves on my hands, one more night without food

Half-bag of speed takes my mind off the pain

Sleep comes in fits if at all. – On the train

Dreading the stop: ninety-sixth street and Broadway.

Tomorrow, this city will jack itself off

In performative weeping and gnashing and cursing

Oh, how we loved them! I snort in derision,

You didn’t lose nothin', you pieces of shit!

Let the dead bury the dead. Beams of light

Don’t feed this refugee reeking of ashes -

What, do I smell bad? So sorry to stink up

The place where you’ve laid out the feast for your friends

Who still have their jobs, their high homes in the towers

Behind the glass doors where your larders are stocked

With the food that you bought with your government money

That flooded your midtown Manhattan apartment

With all the new clothes, electronics, the sausages

Fresh from Enrico’s, Zabar’s, D’agostino’s,

Bought with the Victim’s Fund money you stole

When you filed your claim. “OMG, it was awful!

“I couldn’t get up to the fifty-fourth floor,

“I had to find shelter on Upper Park Avenue.

“Power was out. I was homeless that night!

“So glad that my friend who was shopping in Gramercy

“Gave me the number to call for my claim

“September 11th was horrid! I told them

“I couldn’t go home for two nights! Oh, thank God

“The claim got approved with a wink and a nod

“And no one’s the wiser – I’ve never been south

“Of the Plaza Hotel! That all happened on Wall Street,

“Who goes down there? Jesus Christ, are you kidding?

“That’s four miles away! Christopher, are you coming

“Or what? Reservations at Nobu won’t wait

“For you or for me, so quit primping!”

The pain

In my stomach, relentless. My gorge won’t stop heaving.

Am I gonna make it? Damn, *ouch!* What the fuck…

The tooth that I hoped would hold out just gave way,

Fuck me. Another huge hole in my grille.

When I made six figures and lived in a high-rise,

Fuck buddies laughing on Saturday night,

Nobody told me that one hundred minutes

And two hijacked jet planes would make such a difference.

No one will laugh with me now – my best friends

Are yelling and angry, how dare I show up

Sweaty and toothless, a walking reminder

Of September tenth. No, I’m not gonna feed you.

III.

Now, twenty years later, they’ve retooled their memory:

“Animal! Damn, dog! We’ve missed you, you know,

“Wow, you’re alive! You look fabulous! Listen,

“I never gave up on you. Give a call

“When you come to the City. I want you to meet

“My beautiful husband – he remembers you too!”

IV.

Twin beams of light where the Towers were anchored,

Okay, not exactly precisely those spots,

But who’s gonna criticize? Look and recall

How majestic they were. Yeah, the new One World Trade

Is cool, I suppose – no one mentions the absence

Of Two World Trade Center. Insurance, you know.

Not enough money or civic ambition,

And Bloomberg discouraged it. Why add a target?

“Don’t you think sixty or seventy stories

“Are more than enough? Hell, let’s just get it done.

“The sooner we finish construction, the better.”

V.

*There will never be lumens of adequate volume

Sufficient to seal that hole in the sky,

But the hole in my heart I will finish, I tell you.

Walk with me as I go forward. Tomorrow

I’m back in the studio. Tonight, we can play!

You smell like apples and – damn, is that chocolate?

(our light beams shine upward forever)

"Good boy!"

Animal J. Smith San Francisco, California September 10, 2024

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Besides traditional pools, the city also had what were then called floating baths, like the one pictured above at West 96th Street on August 19, 1938. The water inside this pool was taken from the Hudson River.

Photo: NYC Parks Dep't via Rare Historical Photos

[manhattanstepbystep]

Streets of El Barrio: East 96th Street between Third Ave and Lexington Ave in Spanish Harlem, upper Manhattan

[mawofthemagnetar]

NPC Grian Gets A Job

You, a modern minimalist architect who has done nothing but produce sterile white hellscapes your entire life, arrive in the 96th circle of Hell.

To your shock, it is a lush and verdant place. Rows of quaint stone and wood houses line perfect picturesque streets. Colourful flowerbeds and gorgeous classical architecture surrounds you. Trees grow wild and untrimmed. The only metal is copper roofing and wrought iron door-knockers and fence gates.

And you hate it immensely.

As you set off down the lovely cobbled streets, you come to realize that this place never ends. It’s an endless sprawling labyrinth of quaint rustic homes, roads forking off each other in all directions, forever. Eventually you finally, FINALLY wander to the edge of “town” (is it truly a town if you haven’t seen a single soul?) and find…a construction site.

Eager to break up the monotony (and give yourself something to do) you rush to the blueprints left lovingly on a sawhorse and examine them. Another rustic house. You’ll fix this. Grabbing your trusty ballpoint, you click it and set about sketching up something nice. Clean lines. White walls. White concrete. Square. Colour? God forbid, it’s not the fashion! After a few minutes of redoing the design, you look up.

“HELLO,” a man(?) clad in a red sweater shouts at you, “DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A RUSTIC HOUSE WITH ME?”

You stare at the man.

“No. We’re building something nice here. Something new.” You say, gesturing at the page.

The man’s face darkens like an encroaching storm as he glances at your page. At once, the illusion of colour in his eyes fades away, and you find yourself staring into two blank steel balls with a glowing red pit in the centres.

“THIS IS MY REALM WHERE ALL THINGS ARE RUSTIC AND ALL THINGS ARE HOUSE. DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A RUSTIC HOUSE WITH ME?”

You swallow uncomfortably. Something tells you “no” is a bad response.

“YOU HAD TO THINK ABOUT IT. I THINK YOU NEED TO GO IN THE CLOSET. IF YOU CAN LAST TEN MINUTES IN THE CLOSET, I WILL ALLOW YOU TO BUILD THIS NOT RUSTIC HOUSE.”

You swallow and nod slowly. That…certainly sounds like a deal.

“DO YOU AGREE?”

“Sure.” You say nervously.

“GOOD. I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING THE RUSTIC HOUSES YOU WILL CREATE FOR ME.” The man says with a smile.

He snaps his fingers.

You blink.

When you open your eyes again, you’re inside of a small, cramped, dark closet. The walls are wood and it smells of must and mothballs.

It’s…boring, but safe enough?

“YOUR TEN MINUTES BEGINS NOW.” The man announces from outside.

And as the walls begin to drip like white paint around your fingers, you realize that it wasn’t a deal at all.

Nine minutes later, you are sketching out a design for a wonderfully quaint rustic house.

[workersolidarity]

[📹 Total destruction on the streets of the Gaza Strip after Israeli attacks in Gaza City's Shuja’iyya district left the entire neighborhood in ruins.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚨 💥ENDLESS BOMBING AND SHELLING ON THE 96TH DAY OF ISRAEL'S GENOCIDAL WAR IN THE GAZA STRIP💥

On the 96th day of Israel's genocidal war in the Gaza Strip, dozens of Palestinian civilians were killed and many more wounded by occupation bombing and shelling over Tuesday night and Wednesday morning.

Six Palestinians were killed and several others wounded by Israeli gunfire when occupation soldiers stationed on a coastal road near the Sheikh Ajlin neighborhood of Gaza City. The dead and wounded were retrieved and brought to al-Shifa Hospital in the west of the city.

West of Rafah, in the south of Gaza, 15 Palestinian civilians were slaughtered and dozens more wounded when Israeli occupation aircraft bombed the home of the Nafal family. Most of the wounded were transferred to Abu Youssef Al-Najjar Hospital.

In Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, occupation warplanes targeted a home, killing several people and wounding others who were taken to al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital.

Occupation artillery fired heavily on the eastern and southern neighborhoods of Khan Yunis, in the south of the enclave, murdering dozens and wounding many more, the majority of which were displaced civilians from Gaza City and elsewhere in northern Gaza.

In the al-Bureij and al-Maghazi Refugee Camps, heavy Israeli bombing and shelling slaughtered at least 20 civilians, the majority being women, children and the elderly.

Multiple Palestinians were killed and several others wounded after Israeli occupation jets bombed the Asalia family home in the Jabalia Camp area in northern Gaza.

In the al-Waha and Sudaniya areas of the Beach Camp, west of Gaza City, occupation gun boats fired missiles and shells targeting civilian homes on the outskirts of the camp, killing dozens and wounding dozens more.

Over the previous 24-hours, upwards of 58 Palestinian civilians were killed, and dozens more wounded in massacres committed by the Israeli Occupation Forces.

In the Nuseirat Refugee Camp area of central Gaza, at least one civilian was killed and a number of others injured as a result of an occupation warplane which targeted a civilian home in an airstrike.

Meanwhile, heavy clashes take place between al-Qassam and other Resistance forces, and occupation soldiers in every axis of the war, across the entire Gaza Strip.

According to the Resistance, occupation soldiers attempted a rescue of one of Hamas' hostages, but Resistance fighters managed to repel the attack.

Occupation warplanes, artillery, ships, and soldiers all continue to pound civilians in the Gaza Strip, with further dead and wounded resulting from the endless barrages.

#source1

#source2

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[medtech-mara]

W̵̰̻͍̉̔̅̀̐͐͒͆̒̚.I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔.P̷̛̛̛̩̺͇̊̅̍͂͗͑͐̎̂̏̐̐ W̵̰̻͍̉̔̅̀̐͐͒͆̒̚Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅ-Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ

I was tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo, tysm for thinking of me. I actually have a few things I am working on. I really need to make a header for WIPS WEN-EVER.

I will be tagging: @dani-the-goblin, @streetkid-named-desire, @luvwich, @merge-conflict

Writing:

If you were to go off sunlight to guess what time it was, in this district of the city, you’d have a hard time. Nearly every building was Mega, blocking out sunlight the majority of the day, some might never see it, which makes it the perfect home for a Scav den.

V3AH, stumbling out onto the sidewalk, was met with a couple of CPD officers outside, probably the very same she just darted past heading to the bloodbath she left behind.

3 less Gutters out on the street.. For the night at least. 

She was doing her best to prevent any unwanted scans from coming in. The Last thing she wanted was C-Swat being tipped about her, the evidence up on the 96th floor was a testament to her fragile mental state. She’d be in a holding cell before the night was over.

Between the brain fog and spins, she was starting to feel sick to her stomach. Oh shit.. It’s happening again. 

Ŕ̶̢̢̜͚͙͙͖̭̈̿̎̒͘   e̴̻̟̼̜̬͔̽̾̿̽̌̏̀ l̷̺͕͖̹̏͋͌̋͐̑̃̓  ì̴̢͙̖̲̙̦̣̎̈̍͜͝   c̵̮̱͓̓̚     ̶̳̪̹̠̠̼̭̗̽̀͝M̷̧̙̙̂́̊̊̕  a̵̰̩̭̠̹͛ͅ ĺ̷͕̻̰̬̘̰̘̚͠f̶͉̞͕̱͕͒ ų̸̨̧͙̝͙͙̪̈́̕   n̵̗̞̝̱͔̤̈́̇͆  c̷̢̦͙̜̟̼̤̟͠t̸̹̼̞̲̗͙̪̘͒̆́̽ į̴̢̨͍̫͇̤̠̈́̈́̆͐͘ o̸̗̫̪̝͔͂͠͠ n̴̛̰̞̞̣͉̫̽̌ͅ

Tucking into the nearest alley and leaning up against the wall, her stomach retracted in a violent motion, giving her little time to prepare for throwing up. Burrito from the Snatch N’ Snac machine outside her apartment coated the side of the megabuilding, and some in her hair.

Fuck me.. It’s getting worse.. Jago?

No reply.

World Building / Character Building:

So I will be merging these two together because they kinda go together.

We have our new district name dropped: Chibuya

Chicago meets Shibuya.

This iconic district of Japan, is now our Japantown district, though there was hope of it being more like a new Tokyo, it seems the city has gone with a more traditional look throughout the city, taking on aspects of Kyoto & Osaka, which tbh I love. We have our little Kabuki attached to Japantown going by the name of Kintsugi.

I know I have discussed it some in previous posts, but Kintsugi gets its name from the city's neglect, since it is primarily South Korean-dominated, they would rather spend the money anywhere else than the poor of Kintsugi, leaving the residents to fill the roads and buildings cracks with a gold colored substance to give it the appearance of Kintsugi.

We have two new residents who are being fleshed out right now. We have our primary gang for our new district going by the name Tengu Kai, TK. Dawning a Tengu mask as their calling card.

I'm currently working on an Okiya and it's family and workers, working out a back story as to how the TK gets involved.

VP:

you have seen the raw of the image I am currently working on, but I do have a series I'm working on. I'm currently waiting and chomping at the bit EAGERLY for early access of @gloryride's new mod. These photos are a year + in the making.

post divider credit to: xaerainy

[tradedmiami]

SALE IMAGE: Bryant Grosso & Tamika Moses DATE: 04/11/2024 ADDRESS: 823 Northeast 96th Street MARKET: Miami Shores ASSET TYPE: Single Family ~ ACRES: 0.26 BUYER'S REP: Bryant Grosso (@BryantGrossoRealty) - R House Real Estate SELLER'S REP: Tamika Moses (@TamikaMoses_) - Robin Bird Realty (@RobinBirdRealty) SALE PRICE: $550,000 SF: 1,834 ~ PPSF: $300 NOTE: A spooky home in Miami Shores, close to the prestigious Miami Shores Country Club, was sold for $550,000. The spacious property, decked out in jack-o-lanterns and Halloween decor, is situated amongst million-dollar residences and in a desirable school district. The property, spanning 1,834 square feet on a 0.26-acre lot, requires extensive renovation, but nothing wrong with getting into the Halloween spirit early. 🎃 #Miami #RealEstate #tradedmia #MIA #MiamiShores #SingleFamily #BryantGrosso #RHouseRealEstate #TamikaMoses #RobinBirdRealty

[wanderingnewyork]

From 2018: A No. 6 train enters the #96th_Street_Station, #Manhattan.

[zvaigzdelasas]

Edmonton police have charged the editor of a left-wing Alberta news outlet with mischief after a controversial [sic] statue of a Ukrainian military commander was defaced last year.

Duncan Kinney, 39, was charged with mischief under $5,000 "in relation to an August 2021 incident that occurred at a Ukrainian complex in the area of 96th Street and 153rd Avenue," Edmonton Police Service spokesperson Carolin Maran told CBC News Tuesday night.

Kinney is expected to appear in court on Nov. 10.

Last August, the words "Actual Nazi" were written in red paint on the statue of Roman Shukhevych at the Ukrainian Youth Unity Complex.

During the same week, a memorial in St Michael's Cemetery near 138th Avenue and 82nd Street was also defaced, with the words "Nazi Monument 14th Waffen SS". 

Shukhevych's role in the military has fallen under increased scrutiny [sic] over his actions in leading the Ukrainian Insurgent Army during the Second World War and the deaths of tens of thousands of Belarusians, Jews, Poles and Ukrainians.

The Friends of Simon Wiesenthal Center for Holocaust Studies has called for the removal of the memorials, stating that they honour "Nazi collaborators and war criminals."[...]

In a public statement, four Ukrainian organizations said they were thankful for the police's work "investigating and making an arrest for the trespassing and defacing of our monument of Ukrainian military commander Roman Shukhevych."

In a statement Tuesday, the Edmonton branch of the Ukrainian Canadian Congress said it was pleased that an arrest was made.

"We thank the Edmonton Police Service for their thorough investigation of this matter and call on all law enforcement agencies to redouble their efforts to investigate and prosecute the spate of harassment and violence against Ukrainian Canadians since Russia's invasion of Ukraine," the congress said in a statement.

In a statement Tuesday, the Ukrainian Canadian Civil Liberties Association described the vandalism as a "hate-crime hoax" that stoked social discord and fear among Canadian Ukrainians.

"We believe all Canadians have the right to enjoy their property without being subjected to intimidation or threats," the statement said.

25 Oct 22

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES AFTER TAKEOFF, CARRYING EIGHTY-SEVEN hostages, five tons of cargo, ten thousand gallons of fuel, and five terrorists, American Airlines Flight 11 completed its forced conversion from a passenger jet into a 283,600-pound guided missile. Its nose aimed slightly downward, its right wing tipped upward, the silver Boeing 767 with red, white, and blue stripes and “AA” on its tail smashed into the north face of the North Tower at 8:46:40 a.m. Its violent arrival carved an airplane-shaped gash in the steel and glass that stretched at an angle from the 93rd to the 99th floor. As it entered the building, what remained of Flight 11 sliced through thirty-five exterior steel columns and heavily damaged two more. It severed six core columns and damaged three others. It shattered at least 166 windows. It broke the concrete floor slabs of the 95th and 96th floors eighty feet deep into the building. It launched a fusillade of flying debris that knocked or scraped fire-retarding insulation from forty-three core columns. It stripped the insulation from sixty thousand square feet of steel floor supports over several floors. It severed pipes that fed water into the fire sprinkler system. It stopped elevators in motion and cut off elevator service to at least the sixty upper stories. It sent glass and metal and office contents and body parts raining down a thousand feet to the plaza and the streets below. It altered the path of American and world history. All that damage took less than one second.

Mitchell Zuckoff, Fall and Rise: The Story of 9/11, Chapter 13, p260

[goodomens-girlie]

why is Neil Gaiman everywhere???

the amount of Neil Gaiman interactions I’ve had this week is INSANE

Monday, start there:

I went out to dinner with my friend and after dinner we went to The Strand and I see not one, not two, but 3 Neil Gaiman books. now, The Strand is in theory a very big bookstore but not the one I was in. the one I was in was very small.

Now onto Wednesday/Thursday:

season 3 of Good Omens is released WAHOO

Friday night:

I get an alert on my phone that THE Neil Gaiman has liked my post. yes, i did nearly faint

Saturday night:

I went to see a show with my mom and her friend on 96th street, immediately after the show I realized I really needed to pee. the line at the theater was far too long for me so instead I chose to run through the streets in search of a pizzeria. as I’m running the wonderful Symphony Pace (I think that’s what it’s called) and who do I see a photo of in the lobby. you guessed it: NEIL GAIMAN

IM JUST TRYING TO PEE

“oh why don’t you just go back to your apartment?” I live in Battery, I am not waiting that long to pee my dude, I’m not

NEIL GAIMAN DOESN’T EVEN LIVE IN NYC

this is definitely a sign tho

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Looking out of a store window on the east side of Madison Avenue between 96th and 97th Streets, ca. 1956.

Photo: John Albok via MCNY