feathers of the fallen
Three 'type-pad' blogs I follow each bring up this message
the new computer won't download new photographs again--announcing 'application can not be opened', I can't access my contacts list, no one was available to answer my calls about why I have been dropped from extra help with Medicaid and the only New York City office seems to be located in the Bronx, The library closed early, so I had to return my due book in the external box which might mean it will be a day late, several young people were in the neighborhood squatting in doorways holding "homeless, please help" signs scrawled on ripped cardboard boxes, the air was muggy and a late day storm shot lightning across the sky with thunder that made me jump to seek shelter in the first store, "Friday the Thirteenth" and other films of the same genre were on all the movie channels, world news worse and worse, and nothing but an urgent request for support from an organization I used to belong to.
~Okay~
On a late night walk before sleep, a casual conversation with a young man I watched grow up here--now a superintendent of a few buildings, he, aware of the changes, the lost world once shared when we planted trees on the block that are now scarred and struggling to survive, was a comfort, despite his news that Chinese investors are buying up the new apartments with no intention of ever living here, and his warning that everything discarded in our streets is bed-bug ridden, but the city won't allow that they be labeled as such for fear of calling attention to the epidemic, and scaring off renters.
~Okay~
A raucous group of the 'new breed' on the Avenue--their self important drunken boasts while hailing a cab reminded me of the precarious nature of this neighborhood--of all neighborhoods--since real estate is simply about 'property', not 'neighborhood', not 'community'.
~Okay~
There is an invisible full moon somewhere out there behind the haze of liquid laden cloud cover, as we who went before, and all our dreams of belonging to community are invisible--fading into a fading past. It was always thus. Perhaps we only dreamed it then, as others are dreaming it now.
Three 'type-pad' blogs I follow each bring up this message
the new computer won't download new photographs again--announcing 'application can not be opened', I can't access my contacts list, no one was available to answer my calls about why I have been dropped from extra help with Medicaid and the only New York City office seems to be located in the Bronx, The library closed early, so I had to return my due book in the external box which might mean it will be a day late, several young people were in the neighborhood squatting in doorways holding "homeless, please help" signs scrawled on ripped cardboard boxes, the air was muggy and a late day storm shot lightning across the sky with thunder that made me jump to seek shelter in the first store, "Friday the Thirteenth" and other films of the same genre were on all the movie channels, world news worse and worse, and nothing but an urgent request for support from an organization I used to belong to.
~Okay~
On a late night walk before sleep, a casual conversation with a young man I watched grow up here--now a superintendent of a few buildings, he, aware of the changes, the lost world once shared when we planted trees on the block that are now scarred and struggling to survive, was a comfort, despite his news that Chinese investors are buying up the new apartments with no intention of ever living here, and his warning that everything discarded in our streets is bed-bug ridden, but the city won't allow that they be labeled as such for fear of calling attention to the epidemic, and scaring off renters.
~Okay~
A raucous group of the 'new breed' on the Avenue--their self important drunken boasts while hailing a cab reminded me of the precarious nature of this neighborhood--of all neighborhoods--since real estate is simply about 'property', not 'neighborhood', not 'community'.
~Okay~
There is an invisible full moon somewhere out there behind the haze of liquid laden cloud cover, as we who went before, and all our dreams of belonging to community are invisible--fading into a fading past. It was always thus. Perhaps we only dreamed it then, as others are dreaming it now.
~Okay~
