"I loved staying there(here). Working and writing deep into the late hours of the night. Kitchen sink in a room and all," thought Jane. Part of the allure of the Chelsea Hotel, was beyond the creepy yet tantalizing feeling that the place was thick with spirits, is that from the inside looking out, New York can still feel gritty. Its cavelike hallways are lined with paintings, striking collages and old electrical wiring caked with innumerable coats of paint. A palpable heaviness lingered there. Artists, photographers, composers and producers still live there, making the place part art colony, part living museum. 
But most tenants lamented the departure of the guests. “It’s kind of fun to have this influx of people, even if you’re making fun of them,” said Meli Pennington, a makeup artist who has lived at the Chelsea with her husband for 16 years.
“Never a dull moment,” Jane mumbled.
In the rooms above, people partied, worked, painted, edited on laptops, prowled and slept. Hip-hop blared from Sid and Nancy’s old room. Hotel guests held earnest, conversations from the balconies overlooking West 23rd Street with artists who routinely combed the halls with backpacks, notebooks and portable film editing gear sleeping on the floor of rented make-shift editorial rooms.
Tony Notarberardino, a photographer who has lived at the Chelsea for 17 years, hosted an “end of an era” party in an attempt to cheer everyone up before Chelsea was closed for business forever. He scattered white rose petals near the entryway of his sixth-floor apartment, which is choked with chandeliers, beaded lamps, red walls and gilt-edged mirrors and feels like a speakeasy crossed with an opium den.
“Let’s celebrate what we had?,” Jane questioned, “let's embrace change? Well, why isn't anyone doing anything to stop this thing from happening? Why aren't we(you meaning everyone meaning others meaning bystanders) stopping this place from closing its doors?”
Innocent Bystander Effect Drawing
Sometime before dawn, someone drove a fist through a swinging door on the first floor, leaving a wide penumbra of shattered glass. A worker discovered it in the morning. “Already,” he said sadly, “they’re destroying the place.”
“Let’s celebrate what we had?,” Jane questioned, “let's embrace change? Well, why isn't anyone doing anything to stop this thing from happening? Why aren't we(you meaning everyone meaning others meaning bystanders) stopping this place from closing its doors?”
Sometime before dawn, someone drove a fist through a swinging door on the first floor, leaving a wide penumbra of shattered glass. A worker discovered it in the morning. “Already,” he said sadly, “they’re destroying the place.”
Bystander Info:
http://changingminds.org/explanations/theories/bystander_effect.htm
http://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/bystander-effect
Well at least Abel Ferrara is still around. Love ya Abel. And yeah, you're not the only guy from the Bronx who doesn't sit around all day long doing nothing, especially regarding important and socially relevant things. bye Chelsea.
