182. STOP NOW!
Some are the times when
things just seem to come
to naught or to crash-land.
I've had any number of
these times myself. First
thing to be done is to figure
out what just happened, or try
to anyway, and then get up
and get back to it. Down
in the lower west-village.
one night, about 1978,
over by Canal Street and
the Holland Tunnel area,
maybe about 9pm, I was
walking along, on one
of those elevated stairs
and overpass things that
take the pedestrian over
traffic on the roadway,
and all of a sudden some
huge explosion went off,
the kind that has enough
repercussions two blocks
off to, say, blow your hat
off or otherwise unsettle
you but cause no damage.
The blast resonates and
startles. There was a Spanish
and Puerto Rican newspaper
down there, serving the NYC
community, 'El Diario La
Prensa', and some Puerto
Rico Liberation group, as I
recall, named FALN, whatever
it meant, was responsible,
as an early act of terrorism,
for blowing the news office
up because they'd come out,
editorially, as rejecting claims
for Puerto Rican Independence.
Listen, liberating Puerto Rico,
or the status of Puerto Rico,
or its people and place and
the rest would certainly not
even have been on my list
of concerns, quite honestly,
at that time. Yet there I was
as the bomb went off, an
unwitting bystander to what
could have been anything else;
death or mayhem for me,
because of someone or
something else, another
cause. I figured, what if I
had seen this guy, running
with the bomb to plant,
or whatever. Would I have
had a personal right to
smack the guy down,
smash him around - not
for his 'cause,' of which I
had no care - but for the
affront of what he was
attempting, in this case,
to do to me. The whole
'anonymity' of it galled me.
Self-Preservation stepped in.
What if he'd, quite simply,
just deafened me, blown
my eardrums out - which
was quite possible by the way
this canyon blast resonated.
My ears rang but good
for some twenty minutes.
First off, who would
have believed me, that
my hearing loss came
from that, and then how
long would I need to be
participant in all that to
prove and make my case
and get recompense?
What's it all like anyway?
and how difficult is modern
life, when you think about
it. Faraway struggle and
strife, with local repercussions
that end up harming people
with no concerns or knowledge
of the issue. At least in the
year 1200, when old Lucius
Pie-Matter and his pals of
that day went off to the
Crusades, to fight and
slaughter for their version
of truth, justice and the
Indo-European way, you
didn't hear any more of it
for three years, or at least
until either Lucius or some
poor, soiled part of Lucius,
and/or his pals, came back
in a box or walking. As it
is now, and in this case,
everyone around is always
at risk for someone else's
pet cause or firepower with
a grudge. Be wary; which
later became our word
'beware'.
-
I never knew what to make
of anything, except - as
was said back then - to
'keep on keepin' on'. As
long as you've got some
forward motion still
underway, it's cool. Each
minute I'm in NYC these
days, besides being
constantly on-guard
around my own space and
being, I remain watchful
for the deadly pratfall
anywhere that could end
me up, quite soon and
quite nicely. The funny
thing, as I walk and mingle
with a million dweebs, and
cops, and dogs, and
undercovers, and cameras,
it hits me : none of these
people know of me or my
long New York story, my
personal history, my
feelings. As it appears to
any of them I actually AM
the enemy, or could be. I
see people stiffen. I see the
nonchalant security-people
types always sidling up around
me or even initiating some
off-putting, and annoying,
small-talk out to me so as
to gauge who and what I
may be. I understand, and
I guess they do their jobs
and that's that. I don't exactly
look 'normal' to them.
Problem is, they're all about
25-30 years old, often real
dumbos, and I could
surely tell them a thing
or two about the sort of
threat they're looking for.
In fact, I could tell them
how it goes; but no one
asks; youth being wasted
on the young, so to speak.
There are nasty signs
everywhere too : 'If you see
something, say something.'
First off, no one is in their
right minds anyway, no one
sees a thing, and for God's sake
anyway, what they maybe
do see all gets represented
wrongly, anyway again! Shut
the Hell up for a minute. Say
nothing. Try that. The darn
signs should read, 'If you
see nothing, say nothing.' It
would, for once, be nice and
quiet. See what it's like.
Please.
-
Nowadays, all I ever see are
cops, machine guns, Homeland
Security guys (which is, let's
face it, actually 'Homeland
Insecurity', or why have it),
patrol dogs, DEA people,
FBI people, etc. The entire
fabric of the city is coated
now, like some exterior
Scotchguard for moisture
repellance, with all these
people - plus cameras on,
under, over, and next to
every third object. Now
they've got - besides these
stupid 'pedestrian malls' in
all the once most-vital 'city'
spots, places which gave the
city is grainy vibrancy and
grit - charging kiosks
for cell phones, laptops
and all that, and these
things are everywhere.
Security? What's it bring?
Look around and you'll see
- buttheads with lawn chairs
now, who park down
for the afternoon, with
their laptops and the rest,
and use a charge hook-up
for the afternoon, either
pretending they're 'at their
office' (good, cheap rent),
doing business and deals,
or watching porno, flagrantly
and in public, while, of
course, painted naked
ladies are prancing all
about anyway for photos
and tips, their naked
everythings (supposedly)
concealed by only the
most clever of eye-trick
paints and cover - while
families from Dubuque, with
their kiddies, actually line
up for photos. You see
what I mean? What's
being protected, basically,
is a huge pile of shit we
now call home. How
did any of this occur?
And why?
-
When I lived in NYC,
everything was sooty, dark,
dank, dour, and grimy. Men
meant business (is that how
that word got started, doing
what 'Men' doing what men
do? - 'men' 'meant' business).
You knew, and you accepted,
that it was bad, and that life
itself was the same way.
You survived, and the
manageable parts of
everyday life became
practiced and understood -
the rest, the good stuff,
the dark and dirty and
mysterious, the
psychological and
the crazed too, was
kept tucked away as
a private possession.
No one needed, or
wanted, or accepted
some grinning stupid
Minnie Mouse character,
or Spiderman geek in
costume, let alone
naked painted big-ass
women begging you off
for a few dollars. It used to
be that all that other, dark,
stuff got worked in, it became
art and industry, not leisure,
catcalls and garbage -
which today is all
protected, instead,
with great zeal and at
enormous expense
everywhere. Everything,
it seems has come to
naught and IS about
to crash-land.
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