WA Delegate: None.
Greenwich Village contains 3 nations.
Today's World Census Report
The Lowest Unemployment Rates in Greenwich Village
World Census experts studied the ratings of daytime television chat shows to determine which nations have the lowest rates of unemployment.
As a region, Greenwich Village is ranked 12,235th in the world for Lowest Unemployment Rates.
|1.||The Commonwealth of Ureyzyq||Iron Fist Consumerists||“He who is transplanted still sustains”|
|2.||The Republic of City Camel||Left-Leaning College State||“City life”|
|3.||The Giant Blue Coffee-House of Beat Poets and Artists||Left-wing Utopia||“Everything belongs to me because I am poor.”|
- 5 days ago: Embassy cancelled between Callington and Greenwich Village.
- 7 days ago: The Best Minds of My Generation were Destroyed by Madness departed this region for San Francisco.
- 16 days ago: The Best Minds of My Generation were Destroyed by Madness arrived from Kehlsteinhaus.
- 53 days ago: Embassy cancelled between Leninist Russia and Greenwich Village.
- 57 days ago: The Cimmerian Samurai Warriors of Jokibus of the region Leninist Russia ordered the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 71 days ago: The Red Fleet Buoy of Baronet of Ancoats of the region Leninist Russia cancelled the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 71 days ago: Pimaezoe of the region Leninist Russia ordered the closure of its embassy in Greenwich Village.
- 110 days ago: The Socio-Libertarian Republic of Mastouleim of the region The Cannabis Alliance proposed constructing embassies.
- 120 days ago: The Giant Blue Coffee-House of Beat Poets and Artists arrived from Balder.
- 126 days ago: Regional Founder The Giant Blue Coffee-House of Beat Poets and Artists ceased to exist.
Greenwich Village Regional Message Board
That sounds delicious!
Happy Thanksgiving people, later today we're helping to cater free TG dinners at the local community center for homeless people. If you can spare a couple of hours and want to lend a hand we'd appreciate it. It runs from 2pm to 5 and if you can hang on to help clean up, we'll come back to the cafe for an evening party.
I just saw some weird bearded cat, dressed up in a red suit with white fur trim, sitting on a sleigh and being pulled around Washington Square Park. Trouble is the sleigh was pulled by a couple of horses instead of 8 reindeer. Anybody know what's going on there? Makes me think Santa's franchising out or something. And anyway, he's early.
where is inspiration in another new year?
we've done this all before
and our ancestors before us
countless and nameless they are and
pointless on this point
Full of hope and hoopla
of ritual and resolution
they looked at each old year as slavery
to each new year as emancipation
and filled their lives with futility
and here we are cresting another wave of time
have we figured out yet that january 1
is just like may 18 or august 4
or will we trade our old calendar for new
and trust its empty magic for a new life?
Sheesh! all they did with the snowmageddon alert was screw up my business for the day. Good thing so many of my regulars are locals or I would've lost money on the day.
Hi, my name is Forrest Hamer, I'd like to read a poem called "A dull sound varying now and again" :
And then we began eating corn starch,
chalk chewed wet into sirup.
Argo boxes stored away to stiffen
my white dress shirt, and my cousin
and I played or watched TV, no longer annoyed
by the din of never cooling afternoons.
On the way home from church one fifth Sunday,
shirt outside my pants, my tie clipped on
its wrinkling collar, I found a new small can of snuff,
packed a chunk inside my cheek, and tripped
from the musky sting making my head ache,
giving me shivers knowing my aunt hid cigarettes
in the drawer under her slips,
that drawer the middle one on the left.
Another poem by Forrest Hamer. This one's called "Grace"
This air is flooded with her. I am a boy again, and my mother
and I lie on wet grass, laughing. She startles, turns to
marigolds at my side, saying beautiful, and I can see the red
there is in them.
When she would fall into her thoughts, we'd look for what
distracted her from us.
My mother's gone again as suddenly as ever and, seven months
after the funeral, I go dancing. I am becoming grateful.
Breathing, thinking, marigolds.
And a bit of Lawrence Ferlinghetti:
Night closed my windows and
The sky became a crystal house
The crystal windows glowed
shown through them
through the whole house of crystal
A single star beamed down
its crystal cable
and drew a plough through the earth
unearthing bodies clasped together
around the earth
They clung together everywhere
emitting small cries
that did not reach the stars
The crystal earth turned
and the bodies with it
And the sky did not turn
nor the stars with it
The stars remained fixed
each with its crystal cable
beamed to earth
each attached to the immense plough
furrowing our lives
For sure, peace. And espresso. And poetry. And art, and music. And Beatness.
Welcome! Feel free to help fill our coffeehouse with the sounds and songs and sights of the reality under the fog. I'll take care of the smells and tastes of food and coffee.