The Floraissance Has Begun

What better way to usher in the beginning of an enigmatic new artistic era than by vandalizing a large piece of plywood in a conspicuously ugly way?

The piece of plywood is part of a temporary fence near Court Square on Jackson Avenue in Long Island City. The Floraissance, on the other hand, is a little harder to define. Certain Dada and Fluxus influences seem to be at play. I know not what it means but I will take a pass. A movement based on not knowing what it is seems a little too intangible.

I saw this mention of the Floraissance on my way to PS1 on Sunday, where I got a free 1-year membership courtesy of the idNYC card.

After PS1 I made an interesting find. Someone’s Discover Card was on the sidewalk. That’s not interesting in itself, but the design of the card was cool. The card had a cassette tape theme on the front. Interesting, but it seems to result in a lot of real estate on the card not being filled with useful information — like what to do with this card if it is found on a sidewalk or street.

I considered calling the toll-free number on the back of the card to report it lost, but I’ve read in places that banks treat you suspiciously if you do this, and try to squeeze personal information out of you so they can build a fraud profile.

I put the card in a USPS Mailbox, realizing moments later that that is what you are supposed to do with drivers licenses and identification cards, not credit cards. I’ve tossed found ID cards into USPS mailboxes quite a number of times, but I wouldn’t think banks have any kind of arrangement with the USPS that would facilitate return of lost credit cards.

I mucked up trying to do the right thing, but I doubt the card is in any more peril of being misused now than when it was on the sidewalk.

It reminded me of the time 5 years ago when I found a cell phone on a desolate Blissville/LIC street and successfully returned it to its owner. That was a nice feeling. I think of that encounter any time I pass the spot where I found the phone.

By stream of consciousness I usually head next to the time I triumphed in giving directions to a couple of dudes who desperately needed them. They had an immediate need for a cake. They found me at the corner of 36th Avenue and 38th Street at about 9pm on a Sunday night. Formerly the likeliest source for cake in that area would have been the Pathmark across Northern Boulevard but that store had gone out of business and the place was abandoned. These dudes were heading toward Astoria after making that unhappy discovery.

They asked me where to find a cake. I paused and slowly said “There’s a Bravo over here.” One of them clapped his hands once, blurting out “YES!” Someone had told them there was a Bravo in this direction but could not provide an exact location. I said “Where are we? OK, you need 34th Ave. and 35th Street. So that’s 2 long blocks this way and take a left, and it’s 4 short blocks. You can’t miss it. I think the cakes are in a cooler up front.”

The dudes high-fived me, jumping into motion to get to the Bravo after I added that the store closed at 10, which was about an hour off. They had plenty of time but being unfamiliar with the area they didn’t necessarily know that, so they sprinted.

I hope they got their cake, and that it featured centrally in a happy party of some sort.

I realized later that the Pizzeria Uno on 35th Avenue might have been another option, but probably overpriced compared to Bravo.

I took special pride in this tiny little moment of civic helping of strangers because I have had conversely horrible feelings after giving people completely bad directions to streets with which I should be eminently familiar. There was the really nice guy who could not figure out where 33rd Avenue was in Astoria. People who have lived in Astoria their whole lives might have trouble giving directions to 33rd Ave., which is one of those countless “in between” streets that only spans a few blocks. I sent him way the hell over toward 31st Avenue and 21st Street, which was nowhere near his intended destination. I should know where 33rd Ave. is because i used to park my car right near it, and I pass that street frequently. But it just got away from me. I blame it on the anxiety of being responsible for giving a stranger directions in an area with an often confusing system of street and building numberings.