visit to the ol' block

bounced around the old neighborhood with a friend. Very happy ( and relieved) that not much has changed since I left as everything in this town seems to always be under the shadow of a nameless, faceless developer. Sure you had the occasional bar or boutique shop but they were oddities that blended in. Sidewalks still spilled with the stuff of people's lives from the past. An old cast iron teapot belonging to an Indian family, an old handle dangling with iron keys, Hebrew letters carved into a plaque, glassware, food carts making fresh empanadas, gyros and anything else. multiple tongues spoken and screamed from every corner, the bakeries, shoe shops and restaurants.

I would have stayed in this neighborhood, except the roommate was a bit off her knocker ( for another post) and I didn't quite feel that I belonged, it wasn't my home I was living in someone else's space with only a suitcase full of clothes and whatever books I could carry with me. So I dragged everything over sixty blocks down to a place that became my own.

Pass a man selling book bags. My friend recognizes him as she has bought bags from him before.

"Evening Ladies, how are ya?"

"You're downtown sometimes aren't you?"

"Sure, why you seen me before?"

"Yeah. I bought a bag from you before."

"Yup, I take everything with me so I move all over. You can't shoot a moving target eh?" He smiles and winks.

We smile back and continue on.

evening musings

We can only offer , that which we have to give. We can't make others accept it.

I can live with the idea that we are merely actors playing a part. But I do wish whoever is writing my script would learn to use a few more happy endings.

Many people complain life never gave them any chances. We are given Life. We must take the Chances.

-Javan

split ends

people don't seem to comprehend the term simple anymore.

Trusty computer gives a slight warning sign that it will be time soon for me to let it go to electronic heaven. I hate shopping and I hate shopping for an expensive workhorse not exactly in my budget. get complexed looks from sales people when I tell them I ain't interested in something that can think for itself and dazzle me for hours on end as if I were a baby. I just need it to run. and save my book and pictures. That's it.

Find one and hears hoping trusty computer hangs on long enough for me to sell bootleg hooch to get it's replacement.

now I hear humming from another part of my house, so I gotta wait for somebody to come and look at that. I guess that is the upside to apartment living.

Then the cranky ghost decides to do a teaser and show two documents on a microfilm that doesn't run in sequence..nothing before or after.

I'm about to turn into the pyscho weasel from who framed roger rabbit.

dead men tell no tales...

..they just speak in mind boggling riddles...

a boy has never wept...nor dashed a thousand kim.

mother is the best bet and don't let Satan draw you too fast.

I showed him boss, did you hear him meet me? An appointment, appeal stuck. All right mother.

French Canadian bean soup, I want to pay, let them leave me alone.

I know what I am doing here with my collection of papers for crying out loud. It isn't worth a nickel to two guys like you or me. but to a collector it is worth a fortune, it is priceless. I am going to turn it over to....


Seventy five years later, I'm trying to make sense of it all.

journey to the center of the earth.

I left my city in a dark morning and I returned to it in a dark morning. In between that I encountered the following:

Day 1:

A bus ride, a train ride and then a car ride... then over a hundred miles of these....

A general store, a gun show, a museum dedicated to little league baseball, abandoned farms. Phone loses signal for most of the way and as service provider had warned service would be provided by another carrier, in this case a bunch of strange digits. and lots of ads on the road for these:

wanna deal on a 12-gauge shotgun???

couldn't drink the water as the filter system was down, given one bottle to use between two people and told if we needed more "we could go to the pharmacy down the street."

A news broadcast that played for over ten minutes phone calls of people who actually condoned the beating death of an immigrant saying things like "that's one less foreigner in the world and those boys just had a fight that got out of hand"

Travel Buddy: We really are in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Me: What time do you want to leave tomorrow?

TB: How bout near three? ( We left about an hour after this proposed time, still not bad)

Sleep with the dehumidifier on as a lullaby as the silence outside is too deafening.

Day 2:

Reason we are in the middle of bumble fuck goes beautifully, bride looks like a silver bell.

Then a five mile journey (up) through here:

To get to here:

Then back down the five mile path to a lovely dinner and dancing and just before me and travel buddy depart turn around to be gawked at by people in jeans, fur vests and shotguns.

Back through the rolling hills and mountains, racing against the sunlight ( almost like a reverse vampire), three cups of coffee in a row to be hot wired, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fight with relatives over the phone who are trying to get me to make a pit stop.

Me: I want to go home...thanks anyway...I already told you I am going home.

back to the train, rushing through the station that was the final leg of my journey, still bright eyed I get here:

Tip of the morning on Day 3:

Return to my city in the dark of morning, filled with a constant lullaby I recognize to go to sleep by.

the medicine for the day

Wasn't feeling well, but there is only so long that I can stay in the house before getting cabin fever. Had enough strength to go somewhere familiar.

"Hello Mr. N"

" Oh hello!, you know what you're doing so you don't need my help." He says in his thick Russian accent and gestures to the back with a smile.

tabletops, shelves, floorspace and every corner filled with books, ledgers and boxes documenting over 100 plus years of history. All permanent, and a stroke of luck for me the originals as the state is too poor to document anything. Anger from the records keeper as no one seems to care.

Almost breaking my back to coax a cabinet to open it's drawers. This thing must be as old as some of the dusty ledgers around it. Been through it on three separate occasions and each time it refuses to open a different drawer.

Fingers black with dust as I gently sort through papers and for the second time this month I hear how unusual I am from the bespectacled man in the corner.

" You know, where I came from...history was destroyed on purpose, and here I go to work surrounded by it. People need to listen to what is in the documents as this is our future, not the technology that can rewrite history." He shakes his head and stares off in the distance for a minute. I try to keep the pages of ledger book from coming loose.

what I would prefer right now

Times Square-1943

The rain I would like to see, verses what is outside my door.

Penn Station-1910

If I had to leave New York, I wouldn't mind passing through here...




Soda Fountain-1921

If I needed a mental break in the afternoon.

*all photos from Shorpy