Podcasts about Williamsburg

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Public input sessions are planned for late August. City Council will review feedback and bring the program up for adoption by the end of 2025.

In today's episode, we discuss Verbolten at Busch Gardens Williamsburg in Williamsburg, VA. This multi-launch coaster opened in 2012, rising from the ashes of the legendary Big Bad Wolf. Join us as we trace its Bavarian village roots, the ways this attraction honors its predecessor, and...a roller coaster-riding reptile?Our socials: linktr.ee/airtimetraveler

Kelly Brown's love for golf runs much deeper than her four years on the Longwood golf team. After attending an LPGA tournament at Kingsmill in Williamsburg, she appreciated the behind-the-scenes world of golf. Kelly managed professional golf tournaments and learned from entertainment experts such as Disney.  She found her calling and is now the Vice President of Impact at First Tee in Greater Richmond

In this episode of Home in Progress by RepcoLite, host Dan Hansen, dives into intriguing 4th of July-themed topics. First, Hansen debunks common misconceptions about colonial-era homes, revealing that many interiors were more vibrant and colorful than typically imagined. He discusses how preservation experts have used advanced techniques to uncover the bold hues used in historical American homes, including details about the Williamsburg palette created by Benjamin Moore. Then, Hansen provides a comprehensive look at the life of Paul Revere, highlighting his diverse roles as a silversmith, dentist, engraver, and copper manufacturer. Revere's story also includes his famous midnight ride, his contributions to the American Revolution, and his lasting impact on American industry. Hansen ties these historical anecdotes to a broader theme encouraging the 'maker's mindset,' urging listeners to approach their home improvement projects with curiosity and a willingness to learn.RESOURCESThomas Jefferson, Interior Designer (Previous segment on Monticello)CHAPTERS00:00 Welcome to Home In Progress01:59 Colonial Colors: A Vibrant History10:49 Paul Revere: The Man Behind the Legend21:34 The Sons of Liberty and the Punch Bowl23:10 Paul Revere: The Revolutionary Silversmith24:05 Paul Revere's Unexpected Dental Career26:56 The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere29:02 Paul Revere's Role in Wartime Manufacturing31:15 The Penobscot Expedition: A Military Catastrophe33:32 Paul Revere's Industrial Legacy36:09 The Maker's Mentality: Lessons from Paul Revere39:22 Conclusion and 4th of July Wishes

Join us as we discuss Logan's recent run with MS Run the US! MS Run the US is a non-profit organization who's mission is to raise awareness, raise funds, and aid those living with Multiple Sclerosis (MS).This is Logan's 3rd year being a part of this event, which is a 3,260 mile relay run across America!This year, MuuvWell PROUDLY supported this event, and we loved hearing Logan's experience running this year's event.Logan ran 155 miles from Williamsburg, Iowa to Platteville, Wisconsin. Follow MuuvWell online at linktr.ee/muuvwell

There are many fun, wonderful opportunities to learn about White House history all across the country. Stewart McLaurin, president of the White House Historical Association, takes a road trip to the outskirts of Williamsburg, Virginia, to see what has become a social media hotspot: the Presidents Heads. Situated within a recycling facility on private property is a collection of 42 massive, decaying statues featuring the likenesses of U.S. presidents from George Washington through George W. Bush. Each statue is made of concrete and steel, averaging 15 feet in height, and weighing approximately 1.5 tons. They were rescued from a bankrupt outdoor museum called Presidents Park. When the park closed over a decade ago, the land was sold and the statues were set to be destroyed. Local businessman Howard Hankins was hired to do the job but he just couldn't bring himself to destroy the statues, so he transported them about 11 miles down the road to his property. Howard has allowed history buffs and photographers John Plashal and Fred Schneider to host organized tours several times a year where people can buy tickets to visit the statues (which cannot be seen from the road, so showing up unannounced is discouraged and considered trespassing). Stewart met John and Fred on one of their tours, and also encountered a few excited visitors. Come along for a ride and learn more about this remarkable piece of Americana.

There are many fun, wonderful opportunities to learn about White House history all across the country. Stewart McLaurin, president of the White House Historical Association, takes a road trip to the outskirts of Williamsburg, Virginia, to see what has become a social media hotspot: the Presidents Heads. Situated within a recycling facility on private property is a collection of 42 massive, decaying statues featuring the likenesses of U.S. presidents from George Washington through George W. Bush. Each statue is made of concrete and steel, averaging 15 feet in height, and weighing approximately 1.5 tons. They were rescued from a bankrupt outdoor museum called Presidents Park. When the park closed over a decade ago, the land was sold and the statues were set to be destroyed. Local businessman Howard Hankins was hired to do the job but he just couldn't bring himself to destroy the statues, so he transported them about 11 miles down the road to his property. Howard has allowed history buffs and photographers John Plashal and Fred Schneider to host organized tours several times a year where people can buy tickets to visit the statues (which cannot be seen from the road, so showing up unannounced is discouraged and considered trespassing). Stewart met John and Fred on one of their tours, and also encountered a few excited visitors. Come along for a ride and learn more about this remarkable piece of Americana.

Come listen to a WUU service! Join us as we explore the powerful connection between belief and creation. We'll journey from Renaissance Italy to the Great Awakening in the American colonies, and on to our own time, examining acts of courage and faith that transformed the world. Seth Merritt has been a WUU member since 2014, and a resident of Williamsburg since 2005. He has been a “remote” employee of several organizations engaged in nonprofit fundraising and advocacy, and recently joined William & Mary's development team. He is a husband, father, and professional amateur. Liz Wiley, Worship Associate Seth Merritt, Worship Leader Heidi Sousa, piano John Chowning, Guest Musician Thank you for listening. For more information about the Williamsburg Unitarian Universalists, or to join us on Sunday mornings, visit www.wuu.org. Permission to reprint, podcast, and/or stream the music in this service obtained from ONE LICENSE with license #A-735438. All rights reserved.

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with John Devore about his phenomenal memoir, Theatre Kids: A True Tale of Off-Off Broadway (Applause, 2024). Friendship. Grief. Jazz hands. In 2004, in a small, windowless theater in then-desolate Williamsburg, Brooklyn, an eccentric family of broke art-school survivors staged an experimental, four-hour adaptation of William Faulkner's novel As I Lay Dying inside an enormous wooden coffin that could barely fit the cast, much less an audience.The production's cast and crew—including its sweetly monomaniacal director—poured their hearts and paychecks into a messy spectacle doomed to fail by any conventional measure. It ran for only eight performances. The reviews were tepid. Fewer than one hundred people saw it. But to emotionally messy hack magazine editor John DeVore, cast at the last minute in a bit part, it was a safe space to hide out and attempt sobering up following a devastating loss.An unforgettable ode to the ephemeral, chaotic magic of the theatre and the weirdos who bring it to life, Theatre Kids is DeVore's buoyant, irreverent, and ultimately moving account of outsize ambition and dashed hopes in post-9/11, pre-iPhone New York City. Sharply observed and bursting with hilarious razzle-dazzle, it will resonate with anyone who has ever, perhaps against their better judgment, tried to bring something beautiful into the world without regard for riches or fame. About John DeVore: John DeVore is a two-time James Beard Award–winning writer and editor who has worked for The New York Post, SiriusXM, and Conan O'Brien's Team Coco. He's also written for Esquire, Vanity Fair, and Marvel Comics, among many others. John lives in Brooklyn with his partner and their one-eyed mutt. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/biography

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with John Devore about his phenomenal memoir, Theatre Kids: A True Tale of Off-Off Broadway (Applause, 2024). Friendship. Grief. Jazz hands. In 2004, in a small, windowless theater in then-desolate Williamsburg, Brooklyn, an eccentric family of broke art-school survivors staged an experimental, four-hour adaptation of William Faulkner's novel As I Lay Dying inside an enormous wooden coffin that could barely fit the cast, much less an audience.The production's cast and crew—including its sweetly monomaniacal director—poured their hearts and paychecks into a messy spectacle doomed to fail by any conventional measure. It ran for only eight performances. The reviews were tepid. Fewer than one hundred people saw it. But to emotionally messy hack magazine editor John DeVore, cast at the last minute in a bit part, it was a safe space to hide out and attempt sobering up following a devastating loss.An unforgettable ode to the ephemeral, chaotic magic of the theatre and the weirdos who bring it to life, Theatre Kids is DeVore's buoyant, irreverent, and ultimately moving account of outsize ambition and dashed hopes in post-9/11, pre-iPhone New York City. Sharply observed and bursting with hilarious razzle-dazzle, it will resonate with anyone who has ever, perhaps against their better judgment, tried to bring something beautiful into the world without regard for riches or fame. About John DeVore: John DeVore is a two-time James Beard Award–winning writer and editor who has worked for The New York Post, SiriusXM, and Conan O'Brien's Team Coco. He's also written for Esquire, Vanity Fair, and Marvel Comics, among many others. John lives in Brooklyn with his partner and their one-eyed mutt. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with John Devore about his phenomenal memoir, Theatre Kids: A True Tale of Off-Off Broadway (Applause, 2024). Friendship. Grief. Jazz hands. In 2004, in a small, windowless theater in then-desolate Williamsburg, Brooklyn, an eccentric family of broke art-school survivors staged an experimental, four-hour adaptation of William Faulkner's novel As I Lay Dying inside an enormous wooden coffin that could barely fit the cast, much less an audience.The production's cast and crew—including its sweetly monomaniacal director—poured their hearts and paychecks into a messy spectacle doomed to fail by any conventional measure. It ran for only eight performances. The reviews were tepid. Fewer than one hundred people saw it. But to emotionally messy hack magazine editor John DeVore, cast at the last minute in a bit part, it was a safe space to hide out and attempt sobering up following a devastating loss.An unforgettable ode to the ephemeral, chaotic magic of the theatre and the weirdos who bring it to life, Theatre Kids is DeVore's buoyant, irreverent, and ultimately moving account of outsize ambition and dashed hopes in post-9/11, pre-iPhone New York City. Sharply observed and bursting with hilarious razzle-dazzle, it will resonate with anyone who has ever, perhaps against their better judgment, tried to bring something beautiful into the world without regard for riches or fame. About John DeVore: John DeVore is a two-time James Beard Award–winning writer and editor who has worked for The New York Post, SiriusXM, and Conan O'Brien's Team Coco. He's also written for Esquire, Vanity Fair, and Marvel Comics, among many others. John lives in Brooklyn with his partner and their one-eyed mutt. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with John Devore about his phenomenal memoir, Theatre Kids: A True Tale of Off-Off Broadway (Applause, 2024). Friendship. Grief. Jazz hands. In 2004, in a small, windowless theater in then-desolate Williamsburg, Brooklyn, an eccentric family of broke art-school survivors staged an experimental, four-hour adaptation of William Faulkner's novel As I Lay Dying inside an enormous wooden coffin that could barely fit the cast, much less an audience.The production's cast and crew—including its sweetly monomaniacal director—poured their hearts and paychecks into a messy spectacle doomed to fail by any conventional measure. It ran for only eight performances. The reviews were tepid. Fewer than one hundred people saw it. But to emotionally messy hack magazine editor John DeVore, cast at the last minute in a bit part, it was a safe space to hide out and attempt sobering up following a devastating loss.An unforgettable ode to the ephemeral, chaotic magic of the theatre and the weirdos who bring it to life, Theatre Kids is DeVore's buoyant, irreverent, and ultimately moving account of outsize ambition and dashed hopes in post-9/11, pre-iPhone New York City. Sharply observed and bursting with hilarious razzle-dazzle, it will resonate with anyone who has ever, perhaps against their better judgment, tried to bring something beautiful into the world without regard for riches or fame. About John DeVore: John DeVore is a two-time James Beard Award–winning writer and editor who has worked for The New York Post, SiriusXM, and Conan O'Brien's Team Coco. He's also written for Esquire, Vanity Fair, and Marvel Comics, among many others. John lives in Brooklyn with his partner and their one-eyed mutt. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/performing-arts

New Yorkers are casting ballots in today's primary election, with candidates making their final appeals as record temperatures grip the city. Meanwhile, city officials are warning residents to watch for signs of heat stroke as the extreme heat continues. Also, Con Edison is reducing voltage by 8% in parts of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Bushwick, Greenpoint, and Williamsburg and asking residents to limit energy use while crews make repairs.Plus, the family of Win Rozario, a Queens teen fatally shot by police during a mental health crisis, is suing the NYPD, the city, and the officers involved.

On this special-release episode of PreserveCast, we're sitting down with Jack Gary from Colonial Williamsburg's Department of Archaeology to discuss the opening of a "new" site at Colonial Williamsburg. Today, on Juneteenth, Colonial Williamsburg is opening a powerful chapter of American history,  the Williamsburg Bray School, the nation's oldest-known schoolhouse used to educate enslaved and free Black children. The site dramatically expands the narrative of Colonial Williamsburg, deepening how the museum tells the story of our country's origins through the lens of race, education, faith, and community. The project also centers descendant voices, who are helping to shape how these stories are shared with the public. About Our Guest Jack leads all aspects of archaeological research within Colonial Williamsburg's Department of Archaeology. He oversees a department of 30 professional archaeologists engaged in historical research, field excavation, laboratory analyses, and documentation of Colonial Williamsburg's archaeological resources. He is an expert in the field of environmental and garden archaeology, community engaged approaches to archaeology, and material culture studies. The Foundation's archaeological collection of over 60 million artifacts falls under Jack's responsibility. More on the William Bray School: https://www.preservecast.org/2023/05/15/the-williamsburg-bray-school-with-dr-maureen-elgersman-lee/  

Do The Talking Heads, the quinessential art school band of the East Village scene of the 1970's, still matter? Very much so. At least according to the band's biographer, Jonathan Gould, who believes that The Talking Heads remain "the archetype of what we now think of as the alternative rock group" - a band prioritizing aesthetic evolution over commercial success. Born from New York's affordable cultural moment when rent cost $275 and abandoned industrial spaces fostered creativity, Talking Heads, Gould argues in Burning the House Down, emerged as agnostic questioners of rock conventions. They rejected "rock hair, rock lights, and singing like a black man," creating minimalist performances under stark white lighting. Their 1984 film "Stop Making Sense" appears utterly modern today, Gould says, suggesting their systematic deconstruction of musical expectations continues influencing artists four decades later. Five Key Takeaways 1. The Agnostic Approach Talking Heads were "agnostic about everything" - not just religion, but romantic love, rock conventions, and musical preconceptions. This systematic questioning of accepted norms became their defining creative principle.2. Class and Ambition Shaped Their Art Unlike working-class rock predecessors, they were privileged art school graduates who grew up expecting to "be something." This background fostered artistic ambition over simple commercial success, making them prototypes of the alternative rock ethos.3. New York's Economic Crisis Created Cultural Opportunity The city's 1970s near-bankruptcy made it affordable ($275/month rent) for young artists. The exodus of residents and businesses left vast industrial spaces available, enabling an unprecedented downtown cultural scene.4. Minimalism as Rebellion Their aesthetic rebellion involved subtraction, not addition - "no rock hair, no rock lights, no long guitar solos." Working with Brian Eno, they removed rather than added tracks, creating space through restraint.5. Timeless Modernity "Stop Making Sense" appears contemporary today because they focused on modernity rather than trends. Their systematic rejection of rock clichés created work that transcends its 1980s origins, explaining their continued influence on alternative music.Jonathan Gould is a writer and a former professional musician. Born and raised in New York City, he began playing drums in high school and became serious about it while attending Cornell University, which led him to move to Boston in 1975 to study with the eminent jazz drummer Alan Dawson. He went on to spend many years working in bands and recording studios in Boston, Woodstock, and New York City before turning his full attention to writing about music in the early 1990s under the mentorship of the retired New Yorker editor William Shawn. In addition to his playing and writing about music, Jonathan also raised a family, served in local politics, and took an active role in the life of the upstate New York community where he lived for twenty-five years. He currently divides his time between Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and Livingston, NY.Keen On America is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit keenon.substack.com/subscribe

Learn more at TheCityLife.org

A lot can happen in a year. Since opening its Williamsburg doors last summer, Stéle has added a second location, dropped 100(!) fragrances in a single day, and moonlights as Nolita's hottest millennial nightclub (stay tuned for pt. 2: the Pacha-to-Stéle Fri night pipeline).Despite the (well-deserved) buzz, founders Jake Levy and Matt Belanger remain steadfast in their commitment to artisanal, small-batch, offbeat scents.So how did they do it? What makes a Stéle scent? What were the roses and thorns on the way to the top? And most importantly, what's next? All ahead in this week's ep!PLUS: A CAN'T-MISS, JUICY ANNOUNCEMENT THAT HAS BEEN A REALLY HARD SECRET TO KEEP!!! (more details coming later this week!!!)FOLLOW: stelenewyorkSHOP: stele.shopFULL VIDEO EPISODE: live on Substack this FridaySMELL CLUB TIX: aromaticherbssmellclub.eventbrite.comFRAGS MENTIONED: Atelier Materi Cedre Figalia*, Carl Kling Fig Nuit, Naomi Goodsir Iris Cendre, Clue Perfumery Dandelion Butter, January Scent Project, Clue Perfumery, Oddity, Perfumer H Dandelion, Maison d'Etto, Raconteur, Ormaie, Stora Skuggan, Le PERE par Blaise Mautin, Le Labo Santal 33, Britney Spears, The Raconteur: No Tell Motel, Daintree Rain Tea, Cloud 9 Juice, Killr Vanillr; Arquiste Grove by the Sea, Circle of Lim Lost Generation, Toskovat Inexcusable Evil, Sylhouette Molotov Cocktail, Arquiste Tropical, Tada Paradiso, Pigmentarium: Murmur, Erotikon, Paradiso;  Wolf Brothers Wolf, Andrea Maack Muse, Clue Perfumery Dandelion Butter* = gifted in PR

We talk song of the summer, ICE raids, worst bombs, and more in this week's episode with Nick Hopping. Follow @nickhoppingcomedy and check out Flophouse Comedy in Williamsburg. Want to suggest a sibling/spouse for a future episode? overshadowedpod@gmail.com  Recorded June 2025 And follow us on social media! https://linktr.ee/overshadowed_podcast Instagram: @Overshadowed_Podcast @zachrussellcomedy @charles_engle  Produced by Zach Russell Intro/Outro music by Mokka! Music from #InAudio: https://inaudio.org/ Track Name: Funky Retro Funk [Funk Music] by MokkaMusic / Old Tapes Chapter

This special Father's Day message honors the role of fatherhood by looking at three powerful but often overlooked dads in Scripture Job, Manoah, and Zebedee.

In this episode, Carrie takes a friend to Williamsburg, Virginia to have lunch with Aidan, whether or not he's actually willing to take her home! Charlotte goes out to the party, after party, and after-after party to network and up her painting-selling business while wing-womaning a friend, Harry has a very understandable incident with button jeans, Miranda has her first kinda-date with the reporter, Anthony has an absolute non-story arc with objectifying his big hog boyf for his bread shop, LTW unreasonably flips out about her editor taking a much better job instead of continuing with a decade-long documentary that will never end, and Seema gets passed over at her job and acts in a way that has us asking, rhetorically: we're supposed to hate her, right? Rate and review us, daddy! And join all the fun with dozens and dozens of exclusive podcast and videos over at Patreon.com/kevinandjon!

Four friends make a pact to lose their virginity before graduating high school. Special guest Eddie Perez-Cortes joins us to discuss the letdown of unrated DVDs, catchy McDonald's jingles, and the Williamsburg of MILFs. This one time, at band camp, we found out if American Pie stands the Test of Time.

How is church worker formation cemented as culture in the church? The Rev. Dr. Mike Von Behren (President of the LCMS Northwest District and Regent at Concordia University Irvine) and the Rev. Dr. Bill Harmon (President of the LCMS Southeastern District and Assistant Pastor of King of Glory Lutheran Church in Williamsburg, VA) join Andy for our Set Apart to Serve series to talk about their journeys to becoming pastors and then District Presidents, their chief duties as a District President, what each of their districts are doing to form and recruit church workers and why this work is so important to each of them, and what they think will cement church worker formation and recruitment into the culture of our LCMS congregations, schools, districts, and entities. Christ's church will continue until He returns, and that church will continue to need church workers. Set Apart to Serve (SAS) is an initiative of the LCMS to recruit church workers. Together, we pray for workers for the Kingdom of God and encourage children to consider church work vocations. Here are three easy ways you can participate in SAS: 1. Pray with your children for God to provide church workers. 2. Talk to your children about becoming church workers. 3. Thank God for the people who work in your congregation. To learn more about Set Apart to Serve, visit lcms.org/set-apart-to-serve.

It comes at no upfront cost to Williamsburg. The city paid $12 million for the first leg of the agreement with the regional water provider in 2009, which came up for renewal in 2024 and would have cost $18 million.

José Raúl Cepeda y Michelle Estrada conversan hoy con Danny Rivera sobre su concierto pre padres; y después con Mónica Flores de “El Puente” sobre retos ambiental del gas metano. Segmento 1 Danny Rivera comparte algunas memorias de Sister Isolina y su conexión con la Playa de Ponce. Después nos habla sobre su concierto en víspera de los padres en la Hacienda Lealtad en Lares. Boletos en Ticket Center. Segmento 2 Hablamos con Mónica Flores Hernández, de El Puente PR. La Organización surgen en NYC y toma el nombre de su lugar de origen de cara al puente de Williamsburg. En Puerto Rico se enfocan en temas ambientales y está desarrollando una campaña contra el uso de gas metano de la Empresa New Fortress matriz de Genera PR. En NYC atienden temas de las comunidades boricuas en esa ciudad. Aquí son críticos y fiscalizadores de las empresas de producción de energía y su falta de información fidedigna. Segmento 3 El gas también es un combustible fósil o hidrocarburo. Se produce en la descomposición de materia orgánica. 90% de la composición del gas natural es metano. Altamente volátil. ¿Los permisos de New Fortress Energy cumplen con veracidad con proveer información sobre los usos y riesgos de su uso? ¿El gobierno tiene conocimiento de la ausencia de permisos? ¿Qué pueden hacer las comunidades? Segmento 4 No es necesario insistir o desarrollar la industria del gas metano (llamado “natural” para proyectar la idea combustible limpio) para aumentar la capacidad energética del país. Campaña de El Puente se titula “No es natural” e incluye un corto documental titulado “Gas Metano la amenaza silenciosa”. El Puente Puerto Rico en Facebook o Instagram

 Williamsburg was the thriving capital of Virginia when the dream of American freedom and independence was taking shape. From 1699 to 1780, Williamsburg was the political, cultural, and educational center of what was then the largest, most populous, and most influential of the American colonies.The seat of government in Virginia moved to Richmond in 1780. In 1926, the Rev. Dr. W.A.R. Goodwin, rector of Bruton Parish Church, joined with philanthropist John D. Rockefeller Jr. to restore the town to its 18th-century appearance.Today we know it as Colonial Williamsburg, a not-for-profit 501(c)3) educational institution and the largest U.S. history museum in the world. By researching and sharing the fascinating stories of those who built America, including people of all backgrounds, we can better understand history and shape our future. https://www.colonialwilliamsburg.org/http://www.yourlotandparcel.org

A new law banning most broker fees on New York City apartment rentals goes into effect Wednesday. Meanwhile, Mayor Eric Adams has signed an executive order adopting the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance's definition of antisemitism, aligning the city with federal and state standards. Plus, the free “Summer Thunder” concert series returns to Union Pool in Wlliamsburg later this month.

On this episode of the Swell Season Surf Podcast, we ‘talk story' with Chris Gentile, the proprietor of Pilgrim Surf + Supply in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. We dive into Chris' diverse background in woodworking, photography, art, and fashion. We also cover Pilgrim Surf + Supply's upcoming Shapers Residency program featuring renowned shapers like Malcolm Campbell, Christian Beamish, and Rachel Lord. Chris opens up about the cultural and communal aspects of surfing, his approach to shaping boards, and the journey of founding one of the most influential surf shops in New York. We explore some of the highlights and evolution of Pilgrim Surf + Supply, the challenges and rewards of running a surf shop, and the importance of creating valuable and long-lasting products. There are a lot of hilarious anecdotes from years past and looking toward the future. If you surf in NY, this is requisite listening… Enjoy. Go Check out Pilgrims latest and greatest at: https://pilgrimsurfsupply.com/ You can Follow them on Instagram at @pilgrimsurfsupplyThe Swell Season Surf Podcast is recorded by The NewsStand Studio at Rockefeller Center in the heart of Manhattan and is distributed by The Swell Season Surf Radio Network. For more information, you can follow @swellseasonsurfradio on Instagram or go to our website: www.swellseasonsurf.com Music: Artist: Minute MenSong: Shit From an Old NotebookAlbum: Double Nickels on the Dime00:00 Introduction and Guest Overview02:41 Chris Genteel's Surf Etiquette04:57 Pilgrim Surf's Shaping Residency Program09:38 The Art and Culture of Surfboard Shaping29:56 Challenges and Rewards of Running a Surf Shop37:06 Wearing Military-Inspired Fashion37:56 The Relevance of Outdoor Gear in Urban Life40:27 The Importance of Good Employees46:20 Management Style and Employee Relations50:23 Working with Family in Business55:24 Unexpected Success in Japan01:04:55 The Evolution of Pilgrim01:08:30 Surf Shop Beginnings: Challenges and Surprises01:08:58 The Birth of a Surf Community 01:09:53 The Creative Journey: From Art to Surfboards01:10:51 The Vibrant Williamsburg Art Scene01:11:40 The Need for a Core Surf Shop in NYC01:13:49 Opening the Shop: Community and Collaborations01:16:44 Memorable Events and Unexpected Visitors01:24:42 Shaping Surfboards: An Artistic Perspective01:29:37 Exciting New Projects and Future Plans01:33:39 Final Thoughts and FarewellBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/swell-season-surf-radio--3483504/support.

Part 5 of our Don't Miss out Series!Welcome to Living Hope Church! These podcasts are our weekly Sunday sermons. We hope you enjoy them.

Ahab of Israel allies with Jehoshaphat of Judah in an effort to take Ramoth-gilead back from Syria. When Jehoshaphat asks to consult a prophet first, Ahab reluctantly sends for Micaiah, who never gives Ahab good news. Micaiah initially ridicules Ahab by pretending to agree with the false doctrine of the court prophets. When pressed, however, Micaiah faithfully tells Ahab that his death is coming soon, for the LORD is even working through the false prophets. Micaiah willingly goes to prison for his faithful preaching, and Ahab dies in battle against the Syrians, just as Micaiah had foretold.  Rev. Shawn Linnell, pastor at King of Glory Lutheran Church in Williamsburg, VA, joins host Rev. Timothy Appel to study 1 Kings 22:1-40.  To learn more about King of Glory, visit www.kogva.org. "A Kingdom Divided” is a series on Sharper Iron that goes through 1-2 Kings. The division in the kingdom of Israel in this part of history was greater than a matter of north and south. The biggest division was between the people and their God. Yet even as the people rebelled against the LORD as their King, still He remained faithful to call them back to Himself through His prophets, working through history to send the good and gracious King, Jesus Christ. Sharper Iron, hosted by Rev. Timothy Appel, looks at the text of Holy Scripture both in its broad context and its narrow detail, all for the sake of proclaiming Christ crucified and risen for sinners. Two pastors engage with God's Word to sharpen not only their own faith and knowledge, but the faith and knowledge of all who listen. Submit comments or questions to: listener@kfuo.org

The semifinals are in the books, and the stage is set for a massive Friday finale. In 1A, Van Meter edged Regina 1-0, while West Sioux shut out Hudson 2-0 to earn their shot at the title. Over in 2A, Bishop Heelan put on a clinic with a 7-0 win over Williamsburg, and Gilbert battled past Webster City 1-0. We break down the highlights, key performances, and what to expect when the trophies are on the line.

Drew and Ethan join Ryan and Brad to open the hour with a lively debate: should men lead with their political beliefs, like being MAGA, when pursuing a woman? They also talk about height and weight preferences in dating and how apps have changed the culture. Later, the team unpacks a Texas bill requiring the 10 Commandments in public schools, hears near-death stories from Jeremy Renner and Jamie Foxx, and reflects on American history through Ryan's trip to Williamsburg. Plus, results from the YouTube poll: “Who is right on the big, beautiful bill...Trump or Elon?

In Hour 1, Ryan and Brad break down the latest government spending bill, highlighting Trump's policy priorities and Elon Musk's criticism of runaway spending. They raise concerns about the national debt, noting that interest payments now exceed defense spending. Hans von Spakovsky joins to discuss judicial overreach, nationwide injunctions, and due process rights for illegal immigrants. The hour wraps with Ethan's America, spotlighting the quirky cultural habits that set Americans apart. In Hour 2, DeRoy Murdock joins the show to analyze Trump's “Big Beautiful Bill,” the push to return to 2019 spending levels, and the proposed $275 billion in discretionary cuts. The conversation turns to Karine Jean-Pierre's upcoming book and internal White House criticism. Ryan also shares highlights from his vacation to Ocracoke Island. In Hour 3, Drew and Ethan join the show to debate whether political beliefs like being MAGA should be front and center when pursuing a woman. The crew talks about dating expectations, the evolution of dating apps, and a Texas bill mandating the 10 Commandments in public schools. They react to near-death stories from Jeremy Renner and Jamie Foxx and reflect on American history from Ryan's trip to Williamsburg. The hour wraps with a YouTube poll asking, “Who is right on the big, beautiful bill—Trump or Elon?

On this episode, Cody and Steve talk about the second-most famous Benjamin Harrison, Benjamin Harrison V. The V is probably for Virginia.Podcast to recommend: Almost Presidents (The Almost Presidents Podcast - Podcast - Apple Podcasts)Sources· Dowdey, Clifford. The Great Plantation. New York City, NY: Rinehart & Co., 1957.· Smith, Howard W. Benjamin Harrison and the American Revolution. Williamsburg, VA: Virginia Independence Bicentennial Commission, 1978.· See pinned post on Bluesky for general sources Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

What's the difference between judgment and correction—and why does it matter in our walk with Christ?In this message, Pastor Matt Brummett  @TheMarinatedLife   explores how Scripture defines and differentiates judgment and correction. Using the stories of the Good Samaritan, Nathan and David, and Jesus' restoration of Peter, we contrast prideful condemnation with loving, biblical guidance.✅ Judgment tears down.✅ Correction builds up.✅ Judgment points a finger.✅ Correction offers a hand.We'll discuss how to reflect God's heart by correcting with grace not harshness and how to receive correction as a blessing, not a burden. This message calls believers to live with humility, love, and truth in every relationship.

Patricia Waterson, CS, from Williamsburg, Virginia, USAWe'd love to hear from you. Submit your inspiration for The Christian Science Daily Lift.

Author Michele Wong McSween is here for AAPIHM to discuss her children's book series, Gordon & Li Li, the challenges of trying to learn Mandarin later in life, and reconnecting to her culture. More about Michele:She s a former fashion designer and creator of Gordon & Li Li. She is a native Californian, but has lived in New York City for the past 23 years. She currently lives in Williamsburg, Brooklyn with her husband and three boys.Growing up as a fourth generation Chinese-American, Michele never learned to speak Chinese, so making sure her own boys were exposed to the language and culture became a priority for her.After enrolling them in early-learning Mandarin classes, Michele looked for first word Mandarin books that were easy to read, engaging, modern, and most importantly, were books that they'd want to cuddle up with at bedtime.When Michele realized what she wanted didn't exist, she created Gordon & Li Li to introduce her children to the joy of learning Mandarin Chinese and to foster a deep appreciation for their heritage and culture. You can find her books at https://gordonandlili.com/ Find us at⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.werewatchingwhat.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠instagram.com/werewatchingwhat⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠tiktok.com/@werewatchingwhat⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠THEDHK can be found at⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠instagram.com/thedhk ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠,⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠twitter.com/thedhk⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, and⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠facebook.com/thedhkmovies⁠

In this powerful message, we continue our series on Living Hope Church's core values: Love, Discipleship, and Family. We explore what it truly means to not miss out on the spiritual blessings God offers through authentic relationships.Through the testimony of Jason Freeman grandson of Charles Manson, we witness how one man broke the chain of generational trauma through faith, love, and intentional discipleship. We also dive deep into the biblical story of Jacob, Joseph, and their family legacy, unpacking how dysfunction can be redeemed when one generation decides to follow God wholeheartedly.This message reminds us that curses can be broken, relationships can be restored, and no past is too dark for the light of Christ.

Sarah Manguso is the author of nine books, most recently the novels Liars and Very Cold People, and a recent work of crowd-sourced philosophy, Questions Without Answers. Her writing has been recognized by an American Academy of Arts and Letters Literature Award, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and the Rome Prize. On today's show, Annmarie and Sarah discuss the wisdom of children, parenting as an act of translation, and the innate satisfaction and delight found within even the most unanswerable questions. Bookshop will be offering a 15% discount on the book which they've allowed us to share with our listeners. The code is QA15 : https://tinyurl.com/QA15OFF Episode Sponsors: McNally Jackson – Independent booksellers with locations in Nolita, Williamsburg, Seaport, Rockefeller, and Downtown Brooklyn. To find your next great read, drop by or shop online at www.mcnallyjackson.com Annabelle's Book Club LA – A highly curated collection of books and gifts with a modern point of view. Founded by 17-year-old Annabelle Chang, this YA-focused bookstore aims to spark imagination, inspire connection, and bring joy to people of all ages. Stop or find us online at annabellesbookclubla.com. Authors and Titles Mentioned in This Episode: Questions Without Answers, by Sarah Manguso and illustrated by Liana Finck Liars, by Sarah Manguso Mixed Feelings, by Liana Finck Gwendoline Riley Here's a trailer for Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Follow Sarah Manguso and Liana Finck: Instagram: @lianafinck Twitter: @lianafinck Substack: @lianafinck AND @sarahmanguso sarahmanguso.com lianafinck.com Photo Credit: Beowulf Sheehan **Writing Workshops and Wish Fulfillment:  If you liked this conversation and are interested in writing abroad, consider joining Annmarie and co-leader Athena Dixon for a writing retreat in Italy in September, 2025. You can travel to a beautiful place, meet other wise women, and write your own stories. We'd love to help you make your wishes come true.  As of this moment, we only have 2 spots left. This will sell out. Act now and join us! Or for women interested in an online Saturday morning writing circle, you can sign up here or message Annmarie to learn more. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Face the Nation Moderator Margaret Brennan went to Williamsburg, Virginia to interview former Secretary of Defense Robert Gates on how today's threats compare with those of the past. Before retiring from public service, Gates served under eight different presidents from both political parties. He's now the chancellor of William & Mary. The former secretary said we are facing aggressive nuclear powers, both in Europe and in Asia, collaborating like never before. He also discussed President Trump's trip to the Middle East and what current policy decisions mean for the broader region. This is an extended version of the full interview with Former Secretary Gates, a portion of which aired on "Face the Nation with Margaret Brennan" on May 18, 2025. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Today's guest is William Geroux. Bill graduated from the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia before becoming an author. He spent more than 25 years as a newspaper reporter and editor in Virginia and Northern Idaho, winning numerous awards for breaking news coverage, feature writing, and investigative reporting. He also worked as a writer for Maersk, the global shipping conglomerate. I invited Bill onto the podcast to discuss the hundreds of Nazi POW camps that sprung up all over the United States during World War II, the inevitable escape attempts, and the conflicts between prisoners that led to multiple murders within the camps. Connect with Bill:penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/2109520/william-geroux/Facebook: William GerouxCheck out the book, The Fifteen, here.https://a.co/d/6wkcyy7Connect with Spycraft 101:Get Justin's latest book, Murder, Intrigue, and Conspiracy: Stories from the Cold War and Beyond, here.spycraft101.comIG: @spycraft101Shop: shop.spycraft101.comPatreon: Spycraft 101Find Justin's first book, Spyshots: Volume One, here.Check out Justin's second book, Covert Arms, here.Download the free eBook, The Clandestine Operative's Sidearm of Choice, here.OC Strategic AcademyLearn spy skills to hack your own reality. Use code SPYCRAFT101 to get 10% off any course!Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.Support the show

Domino Park in Williamsburg has launched a new free four-week performance arts series. it's called “Sugar, Sugar!” and it launches on June 4th. Annabel Thompson, co-founder of the creative strategy and producing group Public Assembly, and Ellpetha Tsivicos, founder of the production company One Whale's Tale, preview their events, and discuss their collaboration.

This is the space where we  talk about all things vintage, secondhand a0nd pre-loved across the fashion space! And for new listeners, or longtime pals, to follow along with all things thrift, vintage, rad, retro, and sustainable, you can find me Emily Stochl, across the internet as @emilymstochl. Come hang out I'd love to chat with you!  On today's show, we're chatting with Meg Barnes, the founder of Eclectic Inventory. Meg is a New York-based interior designer turned vintage dealer, who started an Etsy shop in 2012. Her side-hustle has grown and evolved – Eclectic Inventory has just opened a new studio space in Williamsburg!  On this episode we talk about how Meg's interior design background shaped her expert eye for quality and character in everything from vintage Coach bags to rare timepieces. You'll hear about her fascinating entry into the watch world (including the story behind that vintage watch choker I'm often wearing!), her experience shopping at Betsey Johnson's actual yard sale, and how she transformed her side hustle into a thriving vintage business. Meg offers thoughtful insights on vintage market trends, reveals which designer bags are currently surging in popularity, and shares her philosophy on creating beautiful moments in everyday life through special household objects.  Whether you're a seasoned collector or casual thrifter, you'll be inspired by Meg's passion for giving timeless pieces new life. It's a really fun one and I think you're gonna love it – let's dive right in! DISCUSSED IN THE EPISODE: [1:46] How Betsey Johnson's whimsical, feminine designs shaped Meg's fashion sensibilities and continue to inspire her today. [3:16] Growing up treasure hunting at garage sales with her mom and making her first Etsy sale with a thrifted cat pillow. [6:21] “Thanks, It's Thrifted!” Meg's $10 thrifted Versace pants. [8:05] Why Meg chose interior design as her career path and how it taught her to create curated environments and experiences. [12:59] Building Eclectic Inventory as an Etsy shop, while balancing full-time work. [17:23] How vintage Coach bags became Meg's specialty, which eventually evolved into other designer vintage purses [21:43] The Chloe Paddington bag craze and Meg's thoughts on why certain designer bags are having a moment [25:05] How a mall job at Fossil led to her vintage watch expertise. [33:56] Opening Eclectic Inventory's physical space in Williamsburg and creating a hub for collaboration. [39:42] Stumbling upon Betsey Johnson's personal yard sale in the Hamptons and scoring archival runway pieces. EPISODE MENTIONS:  @eclecticinventory Eclectic Inventory Regeneration  Marine Serre watch dress Betsey Johnson's yard sale Search Party Vintage The Brooklyn Vintage Club Julie of Brklyn Bish on Pre-Loved Podcast LET'S CONNECT: 

Brooooooklyn! Stand up! On this episode of #LatinosOutLoud, @RachelLaLoca heads back to her old stomping grounds, the borough of Brooklyn, to sit and chat with Borough President, Antonio Reynoso on location at Borough Hall. Antonio Reynoso is Brooklyn's 20th Borough President. Born and raised in Los Sures, Williamsburg, Borough President Reynoso is the youngest Borough President elected to a four-year term, the first Latino to hold the office in the borough, and the first Dominican to be elected as a Borough President in NYC! In his first year in office, Borough President Reynoso set an ambitious goal to make Brooklyn the safest borough in New York City to give birth. Building on that commitment, the Borough President announced a new partnership with Rachel's Alma mater, CUNY Brooklyn College, to launch New York State's first credit-bearing Perinatal Mental Health (PMH) Advanced Certificate Program. The program will prepare healthcare, mental health, early intervention, and early educational professionals to support pregnant mothers and birthing parents experiencing mental distress. For more info, click here. At his recent State of the Borough address, Reynoso introduced the public to Brooklyn's first-ever Arts Ambassador: renowned multi-disciplinary artist and fashion designer Colm Dillane, also known as KidSuper.  Follow Rachel La Loca Follow BP Reynoso and while you're at it, follow the yellow brick road! #Brooklyn #BoroughPresident #AntonioReynoso #RachelLaLoca #LatinosOutLoud #Podcast

As the American Revolution broke out in New England in the spring of 1775, dramatic events unfolded in Virginia that proved every bit as decisive as the battles of Lexington and Concord and Bunker Hill in uniting the colonies against Britain. Virginia, the largest, wealthiest, and most populous province in British North America, was led by Lord Dunmore, who counted George Washington as his close friend. But the Scottish earl lacked troops, so when patriots imperiled the capital of Williamsburg, he threatened to free and arm enslaved Africans—two of every five Virginians—to fight for the Crown. Virginia’s tobacco elite was reluctant to go to war with Britain but outraged at this threat to their human property. Dunmore fled the capital to build a stronghold in the colony’s largest city, the port of Norfolk. As enslaved people flocked to his camp, skirmishes broke out. “Lord Dunmore has commenced hostilities in Virginia,” wrote Thomas Jefferson. “It has raised our countrymen into a perfect frenzy.” With a patriot army marching on Norfolk, the royal governor freed those enslaved and sent them into battle against their former owners. In retribution, and with Jefferson’s encouragement, furious rebels burned Norfolk to the ground on January 1, 1776, blaming the crime on Dunmore. The port’s destruction and Dunmore’s emancipation prompted Virginia’s patriot leaders to urge the Continental Congress to split from Britain, breaking the deadlock among the colonies and leading to adoption of the Declaration of Independence. Days later, Dunmore and his Black allies withdrew from Virginia, but the legacy of their fight would lead, ultimately, to Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 Emancipation Proclamation. Chronicling these stunning and widely overlooked events in full for the first time is today’s guest, Andrew Lawler, author of A Perfect Frenzy: A Royal Governor, His Black Allies, and the Crisis that Spurred the American Revolution. He offers a new perspective on the American Revolution that reorients our understanding of its causes, highlights the radically different motivations between patriots in the North and South.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

There is nothing a person can accomplish without Hashem's help—and with Hashem's help, anything is possible. Even the smallest tasks require siyata dishmaya . A man shared an experience at an airport with his family. They were waiting for their last piece of luggage to appear on the carousel. His daughter asked if she could be the one to retrieve it, and he agreed. As the suitcase came around, she prepared to grab it—but in that moment, a single strand of her hair got caught on another piece of their luggage. This slight delay caused her to miss the suitcase, and due to the crowd, they couldn't retrieve it until it came around again. The man took a powerful lesson from that experience. His daughter had been ready, nothing seemingly stood in her way—yet, clearly, it was Hashem's will for them to wait a few more minutes. Hashem orchestrated it through something as small as a hair. We often have no idea how much He is helping us, even in delays or setbacks. Rabbi David Ammon, Rosh Yeshiva of Noam HaTorah in Israel, recounted a remarkable story. While in Los Angeles on Yom Tov, he was walking to deliver a shiur when he realized a few blocks from his home that he had worn the wrong suit jacket. He turned back to change. Upon his return, a man approached him and asked how he had known to turn around at that moment. Confused, the rabbi asked what he meant. The man explained that moments after the rabbi had turned back, a massive piece of a tree—thirty feet tall—crashed down on the exact path he had been walking. Because of the noise of traffic, the rabbi hadn't even heard it. He was completely unaware that Hashem had just saved his life by prompting him to wear the wrong jacket. On another occasion, Rabbi Ammon shared a story from a yeshiva trip to Europe. While visiting holy sites, someone recommended a sacred shul where three great tzaddikim had once served as rabbis. Entry was by appointment only, which they didn't have, but since they were nearby, they decided to stop by. Miraculously, someone with a key happened to be there at that exact moment to open the doors. Minutes later, a small group arrived—the ones who actually had the appointment. They had come hoping to hold a kumzitz , singing praises to Hashem in the holy site. Seeing the 30 yeshiva boys, they invited them to join, and together they shared what became the most uplifting experience of their trip. Appointments to that shul are rare, often just one or two per day. Hashem had clearly orchestrated the perfect timing for both groups to be there. Another man shared a story involving his son's bar mitzvah. He desperately needed a pair of tefillin but couldn't afford them. He contacted an organization that helps low-income families acquire tefillin , and they added his son to the waiting list. Days later, the organization called with news: a man named Shimon wanted to donate a pair and was given the boy's information. When they spoke to Shimon, he explained how it all unfolded. He had met a man in Williamsburg with a rare talent: the ability to instantly convert any secular date to its corresponding Hebrew date, even decades into the past or future. Shimon gave his secular birthday, and the man replied: "28th of Av." Shimon disagreed, saying it was the 29th. The man insisted. Upon investigation, Shimon discovered that his father had mistakenly told him the wrong date. His birthday occurred during a Yom Kippur Katan tefillah, typically held on the 29th of Av—the day before Rosh Chodesh . But that year, Rosh Chodesh fell on Shabbat, so the tefillah had been pushed up to Thursday, the 28th. Following his family's tradition, Shimon had not begun wearing tefillin until his exact bar mitzvah date—meaning he had missed his first day due to the error. This realization devastated him. He prayed for guidance and atonement. Weeks later, while attending a class, he heard the rabbi mention that if someone accidentally misses a day of tefillin , one way to atone is by donating a pair to someone in need. Overjoyed by the clarity and opportunity, Shimon contacted the organization immediately—and was connected with the bar mitzvah boy in need. Hashem guided each detail of this story—from revealing the mistaken date, to teaching Shimon how to atone, to connecting him with someone whose need matched perfectly with his desire to give. These stories remind us that Hashem is present in every moment and every detail of our lives. From a missed suitcase to a falling tree, from a sacred visit to a humble act of giving—He orchestrates everything with purpose. The more we ask Hashem for help, the more we see His hand in our lives.

15-year-old Jennifer Pandos disappeared from her home in Williamsburg, Virginia, one night in February 1987. She left a cryptic note, but the police have been unable to determine conclusively who wrote it. The police have looked at multiple people over the years, but there has never been enough evidence to secure charges. Join Mike and Gibby as they discuss the disappearance of Jennifer Pandos. Her parents have been looked at for years because of strange statements they've made and failed or inconclusive polygraphs. An ex-boyfriend has been looked at, as have others with possible connections to Jennifer. Jennifer's brother Stephen has never stopped trying to find out what happened to his sister.You can help support the show at patreon.com/truecrimeallthetimeVisit the show's website at truecrimeallthetime.com for contact, merchandise, and donation informationAn Emash Digital productionSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

NYC has a long history, filled with (unsurprisingly) MANY ghosts. So we called in an expert to tell us about them: Greg from The Bowery Boys discusses his favorite ghost stories and urban legends from over 18 (!!!) years of podcasting about the history of NYC!Content Warning: This episode contains conversations about or mentions of death, murder, organized crime, child endangerment, kidnapping, ableism, and animal death.GuestGreg Young is the co-host and producer of The Bowery Boys, a podcast exploring the rich and sophisticated history of NYC, everything from the arrival of Henry Hudson to the shores of Mannahatta to the arrival of hipsters to the shores of Williamsburg. Housekeeping- Books: Check out our previous book recommendations, guests' books, and more at spiritspodcast.com/books- Call to Action: Check out our merch store, where we're running a sale on pins and stickers!- Submit Your Urban Legends Audio: Call us! 617-420-2344Sponsors- BetterHelp is an online therapy service. Get 10% off your first month at https://betterhelp.com/spiritsFind Us Online- Website & Transcripts: spiritspodcast.com- Patreon: patreon.com/spiritspodcast- Merch: spiritspodcast.com/merch- Instagram: instagram.com/spiritspodcast- Bluesky: bsky.app/profile/spiritspodcast.com- Twitter: twitter.com/spiritspodcast- Tumblr: spiritspodcast.tumblr.com- Goodreads: goodreads.com/group/show/205387Cast & Crew- Co-Hosts: Julia Schifini and Amanda McLoughlin- Editor: Bren Frederick- Music: Brandon Grugle, based on "Danger Storm" by Kevin MacLeod- Artwork: Allyson Wakeman- Multitude: multitude.productionsAbout UsSpirits is a boozy podcast about mythology, legends, and folklore. Every episode, co-hosts Julia and Amanda mix a drink and discuss a new story or character from a wide range of places, eras, and cultures. Learn brand-new stories and enjoy retellings of your favorite myths, served over ice every week, on Spirits.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.