bushwick, baby.Greetings, World. We are yr new caretakers—slip-sliding into slimey seats of power. Generation Next, fueled by stories and promises, romanticized beatnik bullshit and booze. The future was a “work hard and you’ll get somewhere” dream that we rode lazily back and forth like a half-pipe, gleaming the edges till we could see our faces reflected back at us as we got nowhere fast.