#jamaica avenue

[wanderingnewyork]

From 2017: A J train runs down Jamaica Avenue in #Woodhaven, #Queens.

#nyc #queens #Woodhaven #j and z lines #Jamaica Avenue line #newyorkcity #new york city subways #elevated subways

[yearningforunity]

Stone Love Sound System club night at the 'House Of Leo', Cargill Avenue, Kingston Jamaica Circa 1994.

#Dancehall #Reggae #Dance #Stone Love Sound System #House of Leo #Cargill Avenue #Kingston #Jamaica #1994 #Culture

[ajl1963]

Deco Doings - November, 2023

Autumn by William Welsh, 1930. Image from Pinterest. Here is a list of some wonderful Art Deco Events happening this November to enjoy. Metropolitan Museum of Art Art for the Millions: American Culture and Politics in the 1930s (In Person Event)      Thursday, September 7 – Sunday, December 10, 2023, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1000 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY   Poster House Art Deco:…

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#Art Deco Posters #Art Deco Society of New York #Art Deco Society of the UK #Art Deco Society of Washington #Art for the Millions #Australian Art Deco Hotels #Chicago Art Deco Society #Connecticut Avenue #Detroit Area Art Deco Society #Detroit Wallpaper Company #Jamaica Queens #Metropolitan Museum of Art #New York Adventure Club #Poster House #The Brill Building #The Bronx #Tortoise Supper Club

[gree-nsky]

Driving School Jamaica AVE

Looking for a driving school in Jamaica? Rank Driving School is the best driving school in Jamaica, NY. Rank Driving School is an affordable driving school in Jamaica that provides a variety of driver education programs to suit your needs. For more details visit the website.

#Driving School Jamaica #Driving School Jamaica Queens #First Class Driving School Jamaica #Driving School Jamaica AVE #Driving School Jamaica NY #Driving School Jamaica Avenue

[ranks-drivingschool]

Looking for a driving school in Jamaica? Rank Driving School is the best driving school in Jamaica, NY. Rank Driving School is an affordable driving school in Jamaica that provides a variety of driver education programs to suit your needs. For more information visit the website.

#“Driving School Jamaica Avenue”

[artdecodude]

So what do you do when you want a skyscraper in Jazz age New York, but it's just not in the budget. Let's tile one on the side of the 6-story building ! And then let's put one into the base pattern above the retail level. 162-24 Jamaica Avenue in Jamaica, Queens, New York City.

📸: me/2023

#art deco #new york #queens #jamaica

[solsticepoetry]

transmasc sons and their fathers

The Autobiography of my Mother, Jamaica Kincaid | Promises of Gold, José Olivarez | Motion Sickness, Phoebe Bridgers | Reva | But I Love Him, Amanda Grace | Death of a Hero, Alec Benjamin | Twenty-Four, Candidly, Violet Piper | Anti-savior Savior Complex, asoftepilogue | Mirror Traps, Hera Lindsay Bird | Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle | Seventeen Going Under, Sam Fender | Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong (from Night Sky With Exit Wounds) | satanay | veniennes | veniennes | Warwick Avenue, Duffy | Mouthful of Forevers, Clementine von Radics | Rat, Penelope Scott | blind spot, Maddie Zahm | Easier Than Lying, Halsey | We are all Welcome Here, Elizabeth Berg

#transmasc #web weaving #on fathers

[thunderstruck9]

John Register (American, 1939-1996), Jamaica Avenue, 1980. Oil on canvas, 50 x 50 in.

#john register #american art #street scene

[wanderingnewyork]

From 2017: A J train runs down Jamaica Avenue in #Woodhaven, #Queens.

#nyc #queens #j line #Jamaica Avenue line #newyorkcity #new york city subways #elevated subways #Woodhaven

[detroitlib]

Singer and actress Lena Horne posing for a portrait painted by Geoffrey Holder. Stamped on back: "Please credit United Press International Photo. United Press International, Inc. 461 Eighth Avenue. New York 1, New York." Label on back: "Sitting star. New York: With a far away look on her face, Lena Horne, star of the Broadway musical 'Jamaica,' sits for her portrait in New York City. Painting her is Geoffrey Holder, who is preparing a one-man show of impressionistic portraits of stars to be displayed at the Barone Galleries in Manhattan later in the month. 2/13/59."

E. Azalia Hackley Collection of African Americans in the Performing Arts, Detroit Public Library

#lena horne #geoffrey holder #art #portrait #portrait painting #1959 #african america history #african american #detroit public library

[anthrofreshtodeath]

P FKN R Intro

I'm at work, sort of working, sort of tinkering with some writing stuff at lunch, especially the beginning of P FKN R in hopes that I might manufacture some inspiration. Too soon to tell, but maybe if I share it here that will spur me on some more. Here we go!

___

Jamaica Plain’s cars were jammed onto its narrow streets, effectuating a one-way rule by default; those that did crawl through broadcasted an amalgam of sounds into the Latin Quarter: Spanish talk radio, classic rock, and of course, full and knocking reggaetón beats.

Jamaica Plain’s three-story homes groaned as they expanded at high noon, stacked and running from one end of Chestnut Avenue to the other, one of those narrow streets in the time-honored New England style. In another facet of that tradition, its air rippled in a summer scorcher, wafting smells over from La Isla café on the corner: the strong oil-sweet of fried plantains and roasted pork, the kind Jane Rizzoli liked to order with a side of rice when she sat down at one of their vinyl-topped, worn-in, peach-colored tables. 

JP pulsated at lunch time. 

Jane’s stomach gurgled when she remembered her last meal: a chugged cup of coffee at the marble counter in the Beacon Hill home of the woman kneeling over the body they’d been called to investigate. The image of it was made more grotesque by the contrast of her Aeron skirt and Bottega Veneta heels with the contorted limbs of the man on the walkup in broad daylight. 

Jane still liked it, Maura Isles’ high-class wardrobe and the attitude it brought to neighborhoods like this, neighborhoods like her own. That attitude, the I’m the hottest in the room chest-beating, shoulder-brushing mindset, matched what Jane always knew about Boston’s real cultural pockets. The ones with subsidized housing and community gardens and spots like La Isla. “Watcha got for me?” Jane said by way of greeting.

Maura looked up, her long, highlighted hair swishing to the other shoulder when she shook it out. Her green eyes shimmered and she smirked when Jane winked. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Saw ya like thirty minutes ago,” said Jane. “And if we hurry this up, cut the pleasantries, I can take you right on over to that restaurant and introduce you to the best lunch you’ll ever eat in JP.” She pointed to the wide-open window view of the restaurant just a football field away.

“Hmm,” Maura replied, “I could be persuaded, I suppose. Penetrating wounds to the chest and abdomen, surrounding shell casings would indicate he was shot.”

Jane pursed her lips and smiled at the same time. She crossed her nitrile-gloved hands over her hips and shrugged under her blazer for some relief from the beads of sweat rolling down her back. She should not have worn black in late June. “You don’t say,” she teased. But then, quickly back to business, she pointed to the decedent’s broken ankle, distorted and impossibly angled toward midline. “That from this fall?” She asked.

Maura stood, narrowed her brows at Jane’s narrowed brow. “Can’t say right now,” she answered. “But these steps are narrow and uneven. It’s possible.”

“Even if it isn’t, he wa’n’t goin’ very far,” Jane commented. She clenched her jaw, and her masseter muscle clicked in investigatory concentration. “What’s on his hand?”

“Burns,” Maura said. They shared a look, one that only experience, only dozens and dozens of murders, could engender. A car door slammed and footsteps approached as they communicated about the man on the ground without words.

Maura never went to JP unless there was work to be done, and Jane? Jane really only traveled out this way for murder anymore, which was a damn shame because the food was good, and so was the company - even if that company happened to be related to the asshole walking up to them now. “Hey oh - the hell are you doin’ at my crime scene?” barked Jane.

Rafael Martinez, lieutenant of the Drug Control Unit.

Tall, dark-skinned, in a baby blue v-neck stretched against his defined chest, with a Boricua jawline that showcased his trimmed beard like art. He ran his hand over his shaved head once, and licked his lips on his way to the woman shouting at him. “I could ask you the same thing, Rizzoli,” he said through a wicked smile, all white teeth and innate pride. Just as he held out his arms to really rub in his obtusity, a lowered, electric green and black Impreza roared past them, changing Martinez’s mirth to ire, now directed entirely to the street. “Ey!” he shouted, the car already long gone. Then he stepped onto the sidewalk and dusted his dark, slim fit jeans. “Swear to god if one more lowrider tries to run me off the road, I’m outta this city.”

Jane scoffed. “You already were outta this city, remember? Almost a decade. They ain’t got those in New York, Mr. Hot Shot?”

Martinez stared at her, awed by both her attitude and her mouth, until he shook his head of its disbelief. Maura smiled at him as if to commiserate, and held her medical bag in front of her as she faced him. “Not that we’re not happy to have you-”

“We’re not,” Jane interrupted.

Maura glared with a good-natured, nonverbal shut up that worked, at least for the moment. “Like I said - not that we’re not happy to have you, but a federal task force in New York City with the chance for so much more? What brings you back to Boston?”

“Homesick, I guess, doc,” Martinez replied with a cheeky grin. Maura nodded and out of habit, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jane was unmoved by his obfuscation and his easy Boston-Latin accent. “Bullshit,” she said, “you live for that. You live for the thrill. And the juice.”

Rafael shrugged. “Whatchu want me to say, Rizzoli?” he overtrilled the r of her surname on purpose, in the way that both Italians and Puerto Ricans do. “Me voy a caballo y vengo a pie, eh? Didn’t turn out, no matter how bad I wanted it. When you come from the neighborhoods that Paddy Doyle runs, the Bureau gets certain ideas about where your loyalties are. Especially if you BPD.”

Maura bowed her head in embarrassment, and Jane actually twitched her nose at that one. A droplet of perspiration ran down it, a sign that she’d been in the sun too long. “Well that sucks. Sorry. Still don’t answer why you’re here, steppin’ all over my toes.”

“That,” he started again, pointing to the victim sprawled on the porch of the house they surrounded, “is one of the main earners of the Kill Shot Gang. New crew muscling their way into JP. And I…” he drew out the pronoun for emphasis, “needa find out who did it. I already got your bro out there runnin’ ops for me.” He threw his head in the direction of the strip mall at the intersection of Chestnut and Weaver, a block that saw a lot of traffic. Literal and metaphorical.

“You got an Italian infiltrating the Latin drug trade? Sounds like all you’re doin’ is lookin’ for ways to get him killed,” growled Jane. She marched her long body toward him, her posture designed for intimidation. 

Martinez laughed. “Would you calm down? I know what I’m doing,” he told her, stepping into her aggression, opening his chest to it, bringing his face close to her hers. He smiled when she glared. “And other Rizzoli’s a grown man. Despite you and your ma’s best efforts.”

Just as Jane initiated her lunge, Maura caught it, her fingers wrapped firmly around Jane’s bicep. “Jane-”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jane, body bridled for the moment, unfurled some biting words, “don’t think I don’t remember your mommy comin’ down the station with sack lunches for all of us.”

“Alright, alright, listen,” Martinez put up his hands when he acquiesced, because she had a point. “One: I don’t remember you complaining about all that food when it was put in front of you. Two: I will personally make sure that he stays safe. You got my word.”

Jane pulled out of Maura’s grip and sighed. Rafael’s deep and steady voice, when divorced from deceptive intent and real life experiences at his side, inspired faith. It made people want to believe. But Jane had been his partner for too long. She had been in his bed for too long. “Yeah, that’s my worry,” she grumbled quietly. She took stock of his eyes one last time, brown and expressive and alive, and let them give her that little jolt they had before all the history came seeping in. 

He took stock right back, and the passion that had always burned in him shook her, passion for her that she could never reciprocate. She broke first, turning her head to Maura at her side - Maura, who had a pretty indulgent grin on her face. “It seems you have business,” Maura said, hand on Jane’s back. “I can take a rain check for lunch. Meet me for the autopsy?” 

“Y-yeah,” Jane stuttered. 

“But don’t wait up for her too long,” Martinez butted in. He winked at Maura, in a way that reminded her of Jane. “Because I’ve got a task force on KSG that I have a feeling Detective Rizzoli here is gonna want in on.”

Maura regarded him for a long time, without regard for the social rules on how long a person should stare, before she decided on a smile of her own. “I’m the Chief ME, lieutenant. I’ll wait for whomever I want, however long I want.” She winked back, clearly in mockery of his previous display, and then bid them her goodbyes.

Jane held in her laughter as Martinez withered under both the midday sun and Maura’s retort. “Man it’s hot. Let’s get this processed so we can get back to the ranch.”

#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #P FKN R #this idea has been so great in my head but writing it has been bleh #idk I guess we'll see #also while dunkie's and lobster and the freedom trail are Boston #so is this - I try to infuse a little of it into everything I write in the city

[kemetic-dreams]

Kumina is an Afro-Jamaican religion. Kumina has practices that include secular ceremonies, dance and music that developed from the beliefs and traditions brought to the island by Kongo enslaved people and indentured labourers, from the Congo region of West Central Africa, during the post-emancipation era. It is mostly associated with the parish of St. Thomas in the east of the island. However, the practice spread to the parishes of Portland, St. Mary and St. Catherine, and the city of Kingston.

Kumina also gives it name to a drumming style, developed from the music that accompanied the spiritual ceremonies, that evolved in urban Kingston. The Kumina drumming style has a great influence on Rastafari music, especially the Nyabinghi drumming, and Jamaican popular music. Count Ossie was a notable pioneer of the drumming style in popular music and it continues to have a significant influence on contemporary genres such as reggae and dancehall.

The Kumina riddim is a dancehall riddim produced by Sly & Robbie in 2002. It has featured in recordings of over 20 artists including Chaka Demus & Pliers and Tanya Stephens.

Kumina is an Afro-Jamaican Religion and is not the same as Pukkumina or Pocomania.

Kumina emerged through the practices of indentured labourers who were brought to Jamaica from the Kongo region of central Africa after the abolition of slavery. In the second half of the 19th century it syncretised with Myalism. Kumina differed from Zion Revivalism in rejecting the belief that the Bible should be the central authority behind worship.

The practices of Kumina are primarily linked to healing.[4] Healing ceremonies utilise singing, dancing, drumming, animal sacrifice, and spirit possession, with the intent of summoning spirits to heal the sick individual. These elements are also found in Myalism and Zion Revivalism.

Organization of Kumina communities follows the general local character of African religions in Jamaica. Kumina communities are small family based communities or nations. Some nations include Mondongo, Moyenge, Machunde, Kongo, Igbo, and Yoruba. People from Kumina families are given the title Bongo. Marrying into a Bongo family is one avenue to become a part of a Kumina nation; special initiation is the other avenue. Kumina nations are led by a "King" and "Queen". Imogene "Queenie" Kennedy AKA Queenie III (c1920-1998) was a well-known Kumina Queen in the 20th century, born in St Thomas in the late 1920s she later moved to Kingston and then Waterloo, St Catherine.

The use of cannabis or ganja in Kumina may have been an influence on the adoption of this plant as a sacrament in Rastafari, a religion that developed in Jamaica during the 1930s.

#kumina #afro jamacian #jamaican #rastafari #african #afrakan #kemetic dreams #africans #brown skin #afrakans #african culture #afrakan spirituality #brownskin #rasta #rasta love #dancing rasta #rastaman #kisumi amau #impulsesv #tegan and sara #sexy nerd

[artdecodude]

It's in Jamaica, but I wouldn't say it's Jamaican. #ArtDeco #Queens #NewYorkCity #NewYork #NewYorkState in a building on the corner of 90th Avenue & 161st Street. 📸: me/2023

#art deco #artdeco #2023 #jamaica #new york #queens

[droawsy]

Jamaica Avenue Best Auto Service

gouache 2021

#plein air