Tuesday, October 6, 2015


[Note: This is an impressionistic re-telling of part of my experience on the new year's Eve of the changing millenium, to the year 2000. So I guess that puts this as dec. 31, 1999. Dug it out, from 6000 pages of stuff I have, and figured to give it the light of this present day.........There were hordes of people, everywhere, numerous helicoptors high above, stationary, watching the crowd. A cop near me told me that from those helicoptors above, with their lenses, etc., if I was down here reading a book, they could tell what it was I was reading. Magnification, for security. Just as the event itself, all these people, was too 'magnification, for security.'

We have motioned to the guard standing nearby that we will enter past the barricades and he nods and lets us through as there are thousands of people around us and behind us walking or looking out and staring and those with cameras seem to punch with their elbows the glaring sky wherein high above us silent except for the constant thwunk-thwunk of blades the helicopter stays in place and it can be seen from nearly every angle behind or alongside or above the spire that great solid one the Empire State Building spire where the tourists have massed and there are hundreds in strange colors of bright blues and greens and various reds so that they all look like distant rainbow travelers from afar for no one local wears that stuff and it is obvious to see why instead the black of New York should be the color of the day for these grouped heavyweights all look hideous but happy and high above without moving again still is that helicopter sentinel savage swinging blades atop the world and here down below I swear one street with one thousand cops the men and women in blue I guess they say stand around with faces polyglot the shameless and the bold the sad and the happy those men with pride wearing their beribboned badges and multi-colored achievement bars and the newer ones the recruits with nothing the single stripes and the sergeant stripes and the lieutenant bars and the awards and the service pins with gloves and hats the street is lined and the motorcycle cops in three's are riding the strangely empty streets where along each edge the barricades are up the blue wood and bold letters the wagons from the Bronx the traffic control buses and the motorcycles roaring loudly up the varied canyons and it is all as if we are awaiting something new and delicious or strange and decidedly odd this changing year this new millenium this topping off of the century of life and light and the brilliance and eccentricity and war and death and the pain of steam and electricity and the wired current of all times soaring thorough space and electric time zones with homage and heritage to take and to leave the grand old churches and the one with the huge bells now blasting over a six o'clock street which takes them in that sound momentous yet so old does not seem out of place but is in an odd way as if from another distant time and past when bells were meaning and meanings were the sounds of bells tolling the simple hammer action of mechanical movement  but here we throng boldly into the twenty-first century puffed up with a hubris of virtual bells and electronic bell-sounds and the pride that comes from practicing a superiority which really isn't anything but a dangerous dare towards time and its geometry both which pass swiftly before our eyes and all up Lexington we walk and look about and all up Broadway we are close by and all along Park Avenue we stare ahead and up and up across the way the great visage glomming looming face of Grand Central forever stares out and we walk about and enter right up to the statue of Vanderbilt and find the single lost glove of someone other than him someone besides ourselves another creature like to us who has lost a leather glove and then a broken stanchion is there and a stepladder and yet we look up and remark on the statue and look down the imperial street Park Avenue before us where traffic cars whiz and people mill about the corners on which each are groups of black men selling noisemakers and sunglasses and hats and pompoms and streamers the stuff of a mis-placed joy and rambled wedge through the wetting woods of time and energy misplaced and only the granite here is constant the huge slabs of stone and rock which have gone into the make-up of the very city we inhabit the degree just superior to us as far as time and longevity shall mark it the longer-lasting ice of trim and fire its energy and swell put together for the great single growth of time and all mankind and there the people swarm and stop and stop again and then move on as the hot dog vendors and the washroom attendants and the loose dogs and the fiery pigeons move about and briefcases and suitcases and long coats and great tweed overcoats parade by and there is the one here he comes the Irish lad first I've ever seen strolling along Lexington in a bowler hat nattily just right attired like a God singly spent and ready for the night this night the last night of the twentieth century and we shall none of us enter it alone it seems as all the single globe is turning with us and everywhere from TV screens everywhere seen are pictures of exhibitions of every other city that seems to be celebrating too their own New Year's Mad Hatter Festival of Lights celebrating nay all unto death verily but even that is not enough will not be can not be enough for here with us are people packed into O'Reilly's Pub to watch and stare and talk and drink towards the advancement of our one great puzzle and the others come in those with great big green and white funny hats and they have noisemakers and are quite young and they move about to celebrate their joy and are thereby singing aloud to all who are there and they revel in their time and others ignore their time or stare straight out to TV screens showing Jerusalem or Bethlehem or Egypt and there are the Pyramids at Giza and the great lights and the piddling antics of Rome at midnight and London works its way and we are covering the globe and we must be made be forced to be made to be aware of oneness and globalism and that tempered arousement of doing all things the same and once but we are not too foolish we say too foolish to miss the big things just stupid enough to go along and we pledge then these resolutions 'I will never be afraid again I will never fear to stand alone I will never greet the coming of a dawn with gladness for all of mankind just myself I will never be part of a herd I will walk alone alongside no one except myself I will temper no remarks in order to please another' and these are the words which should be writ electric high above the sky high where the maddening stream of helicopter gunship myopic telescopic eye-opening magnifying recording sound-seeking master of the universe dwells the one and only state edge of control watching that below the minions God's own revelry those seeking Revelations in their biblical cookies the noisemakers the preachers the conflagrationists the missionaries the wanderers the talkers the walkers those dead and deadened in supermarket aisles and Citarella tanks and buildings high with restaurant names writ in gold leaf on broad windows facing avenues of lust and love and hungers where the blind men seek their shoelaces and glory in the very same darkness and the postal office facade and the eyeglass laboratories sit astride all together the arc-faced glorious guardian of time all Grand Central time so I fall asleep in one world and truly awake in another and the mailman and the guard and the limo driver and the clerk and the soup waiter and the bartender they all together smile and say "You must be thinking what'd I do break a window or something?" But it's only Grand Central prices it's only true love at the Oyster Bar and the stockbrokers are heading back to Connecticut and it's only travel so they are awaiting time and departure at the bar while all around them floormen are walking and seating the people and soups and salads are being served and the proud wasp'y barman is serving nine dollar drinks to the swerving crowd and the beautiful women are talking to stern men and the Texas travelers with their twang are seated and they begin to ask directions towards time and place and it's only money they say and this will never happen again it's only the millennium once I'll never be here again in all my life I'll never see another millennium this is the best New Year's of my entire existence send us all another round and the dour young man on the cell phone is talking sweetly to perhaps a lover or a wife saying dear sweet things about where he is and when he'll be arriving and his late hours at the office and no it wasn't to be quite a full day but almost and on his arm the wispy other blonde hangs morosely almost drunk it's comedy by the hour the mirrored glass reflects the time and the portraiture along all the walls of ships and steamers and boats and clammers and passenger lines and harbor shots show once again Commodore Vanderbilt's work not for naught still lives and proceeds and the Oyster Bar Grand Central frieze remembers all forever and all beneath us the fierce broad trains are running on.

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