(Photo: Rona Yefman)
The filthy punks are back in New York City! Like a flock of battered and unclean migratory birds, except in this case followed by a fleet of puppies, a congress of crunchies has completed its age-old, year-long cycle of touring down the west coast, through New Orleans, and at last back up for summer in New York City. When they arrived in the East Village about two weeks ago, it was obvious that their early-90s peak herd numbers were decidedly reduced. (Blame the current difficulty of jumping trains—free cross-country transport is nearly non-existent now. Or! Blame Starbucks, man!) Now, most mornings I have two adorable little filthy children sleeping in the trashwell of my St. Mark’s tenement (I am sometimes overcome with the urge to shower them with bread crumbs)—and New York mag’s Alex Morris has spent the night on the incredibly non-mean East Village streets with them. The kids hear about a punk show in a newly cool neighborhood called “Bushwick,” so off they go!
