Hat trick! Hat trick!

"Ramshackle," with an emphasis on "shack," might be the most accurate way to conjure for you the image of the site of last night's fun. A loosely-confederated and architecturally questionable structure built inside a concrete warehouse in a post-industrial part of Brooklyn was home to "The Hang," a party, musical performance, and feast. For six bucks you got a plate of hot, to-die-for Senegalese food and a comfy seat from which to watch visiting African musicians jam with local artists. Everyone was invited to take part in playing music (sadly I did not have my bass, because why would I have been carrying that around?), and there was a really nice, at-home sort of feel, despite the odd surroundings.

I'd like to point out that in one weekend here I saw a brass band performing Bjork, pretend wrestlers and punk bands from japan, and some incredible african music for a grand total of thirty dollars (which would have been twenty-four if I hadn't wanted to eat at the Hang). Although it'd be nice to have some company (did you know that the majority of stuff I write about doing on here, I do by myself?), I have to say that New York never ceases to offer great chances to have weird fun.

Rock.