Area is the quantity that expresses the extent of a two-dimensional figure or shape, or planar lamina, in the plane. Surface area is its analog on the two-dimensional surface of a three-dimensional object. Area can be understood as the amount of material with a given thickness that would be necessary to fashion a model of the shape, or the amount of paint necessary to cover the surface with a single coat. It is the two-dimensional analog of the length of a curve (a one-dimensional concept) or the volume of a solid (a three-dimensional concept).
The area of a shape can be measured by comparing the shape to squares of a fixed size. In the International System of Units (SI), the standard unit of area is the square metre (written as m2), which is the area of a square whose sides are one metre long. A shape with an area of three square metres would have the same area as three such squares. In mathematics, the unit square is defined to have area one, and the area of any other shape or surface is a dimensionless real number.
Area was a themed nightclub that operated from 1983 to 1987 at 157 Hudson Street in Manhattan, New York City.
Micheal Alig worked as a barback and busboy. The club was known for its unusual invitations.
The club was founded by brothers Eric Goode and Christopher Goode, Shawn Hausman and Darius Azari. The brick building housing Area was originally built in 1866 to house the stables of the American Express Company.
The club was open from Wednesday to Saturday, 11 pm till 4 am.
Area attracted many celebrities. Writing for Details was Stephen Saben and Michael Musto, writing for The Village Voice magazine, these tabloids chronicled the doings there, and looked back on the phenomenon in Musto's book, Downtown.
There are several mentions of Area in Andy Warhol's diaries. Ben Buchanan was the official photographer for the club and was there most nights documenting the scene. These photos were in Details every month and often in the New York Post and Daily News.
Of the "three hot clubs" in lower Manhattan in the 1980s—Area, Limelight, and Danceteria - Area "[died] a natural death", Limelight survived with a less artistic clientele, and Danceteria "[gave] way to expensive office space".
An area is an administrative unit of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church), which typically is composed of multiple stakes and missions. Areas are the primary church administrative unit between individual stakes and the church as a whole.
The areas as they now exist were formed in January 1984. Prior to that time, general authorities served as "area supervisors" and at times resided outside of Salt Lake City. In 1984, 13 initial areas were created; by 1992 there were 22, and by early 2007 there were 31. As of August 2012 there are 25 areas.
Until 2003, each area had a president and two counselors, all of whom were typically general authorities (area seventies were sometimes asked to be counselors). This three-man body was known as the area presidency. In that year, the church eliminated area presidencies for all areas located in the United States and Canada. Each of these areas were placed under the direct supervision of one of the seven members of the Presidency of the Seventy, thus freeing more general authorities from specific area assignments. Since these areas were previously administered by area presidencies located at church headquarters in Salt Lake City, the administrative change was not as drastic as it might seem.
[Just Ro]
I used to practice my skills, on slanted backs of fields
Slingin' Sugar Hills, tryna get my bills
Raised on monk ills, wit cool ass folks
Who wore jeans to they thighs, wit f-o-t-i's
I epitomize game, y'all niggas know my name
Rollin wit the Nation, the business and the frame
Y'all can keep the fame, its all about the ends
The shorties in my hood, my family and friends
That Benz in my yard, that credit on my card
After twenty-five years, had this nigga livin hard
Like God I'll rise, to open up your eyes
Sista close them thighs for flirtin with them guys
Show your real prize, true playas takin heed
As we drownin in this sack of water weed
For real
[Common]
Give us this day, Richard got our Daley bread molded
My old girl said "Rashid, you should have voted"
The truth of the moment, on the poll it wasn't nothin
But components to a system that's coroded
Secrets get coded then promoted to the inner-city bosom
Jobs are scarce, most sur-die by hustlin
I get into discussions with the Christians and the Muslims
Of percussion in this real nigga ensemble, Chicago
City of steppers and niggas with wild hair
Besides the Hall there's the foul air
Wonder if I'll raise my child there
Regardless its the foundation, a hustla's salvation
Organized gangs are now Nations
[Chorus: Just Ro, Common]
It's the Hustler Scholar, Street Soldier Supreme
Bound by common ground, here to put it down
Comin from the Go, Ill State for sho
Out for respect and the doe, bust that.
It's the Hustler Scholar, Street Soldier Supreme
Bound by common ground, here to put it down
Ill State for sho, comin from the Go
Out for respect and the doe, yeah yeah
[Just Ro]
They say the early bird is the one that get the worm'
So I rise before the sun, not to be out-done
Steppin to the world thinkin "Ro, get the doe"
Wit the grill a little bent, so you coward niggas know
Hit the nine-tre, hook wit E and get blowed
It ain't even 9 o'clock and we got the block sewed
Takin what we owed, never front on what we know
I gotta give some love to Big Money and B.O.
Avoid the nonsense, and resurrect your mind
Everything gon be fine, now its my turn to shine
I elevate the blind, rewind his-tory
Knockin off you marks when we for the fame and glory
Average bars bore me, come before me wit credentials
Ain't impressed wit yo body and yo dentials
[Common]
Stimulated by a tree of drama, I advance on a branch
Of respect and honor, A patient of the Ill State
Senate of trauma, never been one to side wit harma-
for Armaggedon, I'm gettin armed plus armor
The karma of a martyr, On the rise
Like the temp in this South Side sauna
The preface to the Book of Life states to pake humid
To it I react by stayin strapped wit the Mack of Courage
Parallel to a carousel of murders
I prefer to make a life than take a life
Stopped at the street caught wise and made a right
Sorta How I play my broads is how I play the mic
First I cuff it, then finger fuck it, check it
Spit somethin rugged, other niggas be reluctant
To touch it after me, passively they strike
Never matchin me, rapidly though classically
I franticly, verbal tapestry tappin the keg of your conscience
Navigating niggas like Farrakan with a compass
[Chorus]
[Just Ro, (Common)]
Now y'all know (let 'em know)
Its like that (how we come through)
Common Sense and Just Ro (South Side, West Side, everywhere)
Its like that (y'all know we universal, yeah)