and i will sing a lullaby
i gotta say, having brown-skinned workers come regularly and clean my yard, rake leaves, cut weeds and whatever else they are being paid to do unnerves me. i don't care for it. i don't care for living in a house where people perform labor for me. i don't want them thinking of me that way, i don't want to be living that way, and finally, i don't want people to have a reason to be that close to my house. anyone. hell, i'm the guy who hates to hear footsteps on his porch. and i'm fine with that.
i put the garbage out tonight. it was odd. i felt like some suburbanite. back yard was dark. dark along the house. don't even know if there is any lightswitch or lights out there. we have a chainlink fence. i put the trash bags into the plastic cans that were along the house and put them out by the curb. it doesn't feel like brooklyn. it feels like part of a neighborhood, a street, not another shadow moving under a streetlamp; not just another shadowed face on the concrete. i feel like....i feel like i am living in American Beauty or something.
9's random grammar rule for the...week?
strange as it seems, "Everyone" is a singular pronoun.
i've been to the liquor store twice already. one or two more times and then it will be both myself and the liquor store owner who know i have a perpetual duty to replace empty bottles. in brooklyn, they guy behind the corner would say "thanks, buddy" or "have a good one." here, the guy says "have a good night." i know. it's subtle.
she says two more months until she has a day schedule. of course i must say okay. and in my mind, i think, "that is very reasonable." and in my other mind, i hope that i can hang on. why does some part of me feel like i'm slipping away? or that she is? or that we are not the people who once had so much fun together, and that we may not be able to find our way back? is it only fear? or is it premonition? why do i wonder if we can make it through those two months? because isn't that a ridiculous thought, really? we'll still be here. nothing so bad is happening, right? what's being lonely? nothing you haven't had before. nothing you won't have again. it's not like anyone can cure you. maybe it just feels so huge and dangerous when it is upon me. maybe it fades away just as quickly.
but do we get crazier when we are alone? do we go crazier when we get lonely? and if we do go crazier, is it for good?
the city is not here to keep me company. i'm a guy all alone in a house at the end of a dark street. when i step outside, i feel alone, too. see, thats' what i've always loved about the city. you can walk around, lonely and lost in the noise and color and movement. you can live inside your head. on these streets, that doesn't work so well. you can't disappear into the arms of the city, into the flitting mad radio kisses of the city. you can only stare at your feet, falling one after the other. every hour the train will scream as she flies through the valley, along the river, back to new york city.
spent a few days with my family over the holiday. it was a bit sad. my grandfather had to go into the hospital at the last moment, and we were all in his house, eating, with his wife. i stopped in and saw him, with my brother and mother and some others, after dinner. he looked very little in the hospital room. it's amazing how time and weakness can take height away from you. i mean it can just lop a few feet right out of your stance. just like that. people might hardly recognize ya.
grandpa was smiling, making jokes, requesting a kiss from hermalina before i left. he ribbed me about not being married. now that my little brother is married, the spotlight is on me, strangely. you think they would have had enough with my three kids out of wedlock, but i guess they are still waiting for me to Do It Right. so i laughed and deflected questions about a Date. it was good to see him, although i would have rather it be at his home, and not under the fluorescent lights of the hospital.
so, yes. much stress and family chaos, of course. and i'm not really even willing to write it all down. too much, too tiring. anyway, now that i've taken a tranquilizer, it won't be too long before i pass out. i would have fallen asleep anyway. but this way, i will be forced to go to bed. otherwise, i may just stay up due to inertia. trying to avoid that empty room and empty bed. rifle through my DVD collection. get engaged on long online quests that are just paths to other paths, not a door anywhere, and no eyes to look into or hands to hold, either.
the swallowing of the pill is like starting a countdown timer. there is excitement just in knowing the hand is ticking.
i've got to get into the shower soon. wash it all out, wash it all off, wash it all away.
herm and me may have a christmas dinner here, invite my mother and my brother. i hope my grandfather is okay, yeah, well, i forgot to tell you. my mother talked to the doctors and the nurse until they let him out. we all knew he would only get sicker in the hospital, but they were afraid to let him out. my mom's been a nurse for 35 years, and has worked in almost every single department of a hospital, and certainly all the hardest ones (CCU, ICU, etc). so they let him out, let him go back home, have a home health aid check on him. but that didn't work out so well, i guess. my mother called me earlier. i guess he had to go back into the hospital this evening. he's very disoriented, trouble with the body, too. you know. he's 90 years old, after all.
you shoulda seen this guy in his younger days. self-made man. owned various companies. raced horses, and later raised and trained them. golden gloves boxer. ladies man, handsome and well-dressed. pretty much the only one in the entire family who had any money at all. he was a hard man, too. opinionated, bullheaded, all of that. you know. he is of the Greatest Generation. the one my mom, the hippie, rebelled from. he was the one always taking care of me when my mom was not around, in those times when she was not around, that is. he was the one giving me secret haircuts and feeding me BLTs when my mom was trying to raise me vegetarian. he couldn't be told a thing, and i never knew how to get close to him for the longest time. now he's a soft, white-haired and smiling little weak man who, it seems, is having a hard time living on his own get-up-and-go.
but that's the one promise we have in this place. stick around long anough and you won't even be able to stand up on your own. leave just like you came in, you know. small, weak, confused and pissing your pants. leave just like we come in. and all we can really hope for is that there will be someone to hold us and comfort us, on each end. it's a little thing, but it makes the crazy go away.
i put the garbage out tonight. it was odd. i felt like some suburbanite. back yard was dark. dark along the house. don't even know if there is any lightswitch or lights out there. we have a chainlink fence. i put the trash bags into the plastic cans that were along the house and put them out by the curb. it doesn't feel like brooklyn. it feels like part of a neighborhood, a street, not another shadow moving under a streetlamp; not just another shadowed face on the concrete. i feel like....i feel like i am living in American Beauty or something.
9's random grammar rule for the...week?
strange as it seems, "Everyone" is a singular pronoun.
i've been to the liquor store twice already. one or two more times and then it will be both myself and the liquor store owner who know i have a perpetual duty to replace empty bottles. in brooklyn, they guy behind the corner would say "thanks, buddy" or "have a good one." here, the guy says "have a good night." i know. it's subtle.
she says two more months until she has a day schedule. of course i must say okay. and in my mind, i think, "that is very reasonable." and in my other mind, i hope that i can hang on. why does some part of me feel like i'm slipping away? or that she is? or that we are not the people who once had so much fun together, and that we may not be able to find our way back? is it only fear? or is it premonition? why do i wonder if we can make it through those two months? because isn't that a ridiculous thought, really? we'll still be here. nothing so bad is happening, right? what's being lonely? nothing you haven't had before. nothing you won't have again. it's not like anyone can cure you. maybe it just feels so huge and dangerous when it is upon me. maybe it fades away just as quickly.
but do we get crazier when we are alone? do we go crazier when we get lonely? and if we do go crazier, is it for good?
the city is not here to keep me company. i'm a guy all alone in a house at the end of a dark street. when i step outside, i feel alone, too. see, thats' what i've always loved about the city. you can walk around, lonely and lost in the noise and color and movement. you can live inside your head. on these streets, that doesn't work so well. you can't disappear into the arms of the city, into the flitting mad radio kisses of the city. you can only stare at your feet, falling one after the other. every hour the train will scream as she flies through the valley, along the river, back to new york city.
spent a few days with my family over the holiday. it was a bit sad. my grandfather had to go into the hospital at the last moment, and we were all in his house, eating, with his wife. i stopped in and saw him, with my brother and mother and some others, after dinner. he looked very little in the hospital room. it's amazing how time and weakness can take height away from you. i mean it can just lop a few feet right out of your stance. just like that. people might hardly recognize ya.
grandpa was smiling, making jokes, requesting a kiss from hermalina before i left. he ribbed me about not being married. now that my little brother is married, the spotlight is on me, strangely. you think they would have had enough with my three kids out of wedlock, but i guess they are still waiting for me to Do It Right. so i laughed and deflected questions about a Date. it was good to see him, although i would have rather it be at his home, and not under the fluorescent lights of the hospital.
so, yes. much stress and family chaos, of course. and i'm not really even willing to write it all down. too much, too tiring. anyway, now that i've taken a tranquilizer, it won't be too long before i pass out. i would have fallen asleep anyway. but this way, i will be forced to go to bed. otherwise, i may just stay up due to inertia. trying to avoid that empty room and empty bed. rifle through my DVD collection. get engaged on long online quests that are just paths to other paths, not a door anywhere, and no eyes to look into or hands to hold, either.
the swallowing of the pill is like starting a countdown timer. there is excitement just in knowing the hand is ticking.
i've got to get into the shower soon. wash it all out, wash it all off, wash it all away.
herm and me may have a christmas dinner here, invite my mother and my brother. i hope my grandfather is okay, yeah, well, i forgot to tell you. my mother talked to the doctors and the nurse until they let him out. we all knew he would only get sicker in the hospital, but they were afraid to let him out. my mom's been a nurse for 35 years, and has worked in almost every single department of a hospital, and certainly all the hardest ones (CCU, ICU, etc). so they let him out, let him go back home, have a home health aid check on him. but that didn't work out so well, i guess. my mother called me earlier. i guess he had to go back into the hospital this evening. he's very disoriented, trouble with the body, too. you know. he's 90 years old, after all.
you shoulda seen this guy in his younger days. self-made man. owned various companies. raced horses, and later raised and trained them. golden gloves boxer. ladies man, handsome and well-dressed. pretty much the only one in the entire family who had any money at all. he was a hard man, too. opinionated, bullheaded, all of that. you know. he is of the Greatest Generation. the one my mom, the hippie, rebelled from. he was the one always taking care of me when my mom was not around, in those times when she was not around, that is. he was the one giving me secret haircuts and feeding me BLTs when my mom was trying to raise me vegetarian. he couldn't be told a thing, and i never knew how to get close to him for the longest time. now he's a soft, white-haired and smiling little weak man who, it seems, is having a hard time living on his own get-up-and-go.
but that's the one promise we have in this place. stick around long anough and you won't even be able to stand up on your own. leave just like you came in, you know. small, weak, confused and pissing your pants. leave just like we come in. and all we can really hope for is that there will be someone to hold us and comfort us, on each end. it's a little thing, but it makes the crazy go away.