The most beautiful atrium building in NYC has been shuttered up for 65 years. And I pause and remember how I often muse and imagine the millions and myriad building treasures shut up, unused and abandoned throughout the world. Treasures: Hidden and Obscured.
It is Sunday morning and with my current muse and reflections, and seeing my last fb post last night, feel pulled, torn and led to never post again on fb...never say never...but this would and is such an apt last post:
Maven Huggins
"To go against the dominant thinking of your friends, of most of the people you see every day, is perhaps the most difficult act of heroism you can perform."
And I awaken this morning, thinking, thinking..puzzled.
Twice in two weeks, my foray into public did not end well. Last week, was my Grandmother Maria's gold bangle snatched. Last night was someone pouring beer on my leg because I stepped on her friend's toes by accident, turned around to apologize and that was the response, though lagged by a few moments. I went off on her ass, I got Brooklyn. And realized, that is a note to take: i have returned/reversed Brooklyn at 46;/ By then all the people i was with, came and pulled me away, but i was so incensed, i pitched an empty Jack Daniel bottle at her feet. I can see she was stunned, See these bitches look at me, hear my voice and see my reserved, withdrawn demeanor, believe I am a pushover, them doing shit to test me, and then, what? I must go brookalistic (brooklyn ballistic) on their ass.
But i find i am like that in day to day life as well; my tolerance level is withering, withdrawing...i can not contend much that passes for normal and acceptable by most...but in terms of going out socially and encountering these character beasts and animals, leads me to think i need to stay home. Makes me think i am hanging around the wrong animals, in the wrong paddock, the wrong farm, the wrong jungle. Two incidents in two weeks. Does that not mean I need to stay home and apart? Is it that the level of mentality is redounding to nothing but base instinct; and me being the radar I am, catch it on the zeitgeist. Or is it clear that the time and moments for dallying below my socio-economic status level is over. In a recession. And as the world is in mental meltdown, everything destroyed with the collective mind: economy, civility, opportunity, decency?
The cruel Irony: My cousin chides me for always suggesting and wanting to go to places that cost money, but guess what she misses, those places have a lesser level concentrate of ghetto, trifling and trash. So thus, by the money spent, the veneer, a limit is placed on the possibility of being thrashed. And even if this is occurring to just me a lone, maybe that is the point: i am being called out. Away, apart and from. Peculiar.
I see that as the message. If I am not on first class penthouse patio in rare aire, and clearly, in the presence of obvious opposing, ominous and humongous muscular male protection, I need to stay out the fray. I shudder and hesitate to think what is next, what is to come... Professor Deosoran already frightened me during the week when he talked about people being preyed upon in their home; bashed in and violated, and I wonder how it is I can be even more invisible and obscure in my day to day life, living, entering and returning to my home? And is this really part of living, how one can be invisible to be safe; how one can not attract attention to stay alive? And how can a character as me do that: foreign unplaceable accent, hair my own and not a weave cascading down my back, a black chic who acts, moves, swivels like an international model on bohemian day? with my bejeweled wrists and ears? And with an aire of grand possibility, unlimited movement, and stories and experiences of epic modern proportions> How does someone like that move without being notice, least of all for that glow of light within to skin? Impossible.
And that is what I surmise last night: two cheap greasy nasty ghetto gutter gullies , saw me, they were there for a long time, watching me and my family/friends having too good a time: too beautiful, all of us, all men and man passing up with some comment, pouring us some drink, bringing their stash and lime to be with us...Edmund Dillon stop beating iron to say hi; Camera Glamla Kamla shaking my hands, photo taking with my friend, giving her compliment, reminding me it was since 2009 when we first spoke, she and I...i was too damn cute...you dont sully someone who already is; you try to bring down what shines to your duttiness...the war is expanding...the native masses are losing their minds, they no longer attack the systems and themselves, they now look and focus locked on those of us who were born transcended traversed and inoculated from their stock.
Everyone is talking about it in different ways: these are not humans, these are beasts. So, how to beware
I awake this morning believing something is up. Lots is in the air. And last of all, that l must cease being around one who is family and used to be my best friend. She too is disintegrating and hasnt a clue. I wonder if it is in the water...
I was at UWI yesterday looking at the young people; so many of the boys are battie, the other few on the line in pants tighter than what i wore when i was a size 2, with their full bottom exposed/skinny three quarters, with more flare than Pointe-e-Pierre. and the girls made me think of 'nastyfatnasty' what we called women back in the day who did not know how to carry their bodies, selves and weight; just everything out and showing, in shadow and cleavages...or if not that...so masculine with their hand and chest greetings...as the men. I swear on some imperceptible way, the girls are now boys and the boys are now girls...
And people are not growing better, not refining and improving but unraveling and it scares me, because I do not want to do that, be that but i feel if you are around these coarse and ugly stimuli, one is forced for survival to mirror and too, become animalistic.
While at the same time, there is a set that chides you for naming a spade, when it is called, so we are in this perpetual cyclical vortex, where nothing is anything and everything is mad; and no one is true to any core..we are all just floating, bouncing or destroying each other as microscopic cells in space, cleaving, repelling, diseased, or flowing..in ever increasing unsafe spaces. So where can one be, free...
I wake up this Sunday with all those dynamics; and clueless as to what to do with it all...but feeling withdrawal, silent prayer, to the stars, self, universe, black holes, is best. So much i have to do to survive; so much i have to compromise, after spending half a life and all my youth in preparation so i would never have to; so that compromise would not be the pillow and bed I sleep at night, nor the shoe I wear, no matter what occasion, purpose, for daily walking . but here it is, here i am, that is what it is.
It is Sunday morning and with my current muse and reflections, and seeing my last fb post last night, feel pulled, torn and led to never post again on fb...never say never...but this would and is such an apt last post:
Maven Huggins
"To go against the dominant thinking of your friends, of most of the people you see every day, is perhaps the most difficult act of heroism you can perform."
And I awaken this morning, thinking, thinking..puzzled.
Twice in two weeks, my foray into public did not end well. Last week, was my Grandmother Maria's gold bangle snatched. Last night was someone pouring beer on my leg because I stepped on her friend's toes by accident, turned around to apologize and that was the response, though lagged by a few moments. I went off on her ass, I got Brooklyn. And realized, that is a note to take: i have returned/reversed Brooklyn at 46;/ By then all the people i was with, came and pulled me away, but i was so incensed, i pitched an empty Jack Daniel bottle at her feet. I can see she was stunned, See these bitches look at me, hear my voice and see my reserved, withdrawn demeanor, believe I am a pushover, them doing shit to test me, and then, what? I must go brookalistic (brooklyn ballistic) on their ass.
But i find i am like that in day to day life as well; my tolerance level is withering, withdrawing...i can not contend much that passes for normal and acceptable by most...but in terms of going out socially and encountering these character beasts and animals, leads me to think i need to stay home. Makes me think i am hanging around the wrong animals, in the wrong paddock, the wrong farm, the wrong jungle. Two incidents in two weeks. Does that not mean I need to stay home and apart? Is it that the level of mentality is redounding to nothing but base instinct; and me being the radar I am, catch it on the zeitgeist. Or is it clear that the time and moments for dallying below my socio-economic status level is over. In a recession. And as the world is in mental meltdown, everything destroyed with the collective mind: economy, civility, opportunity, decency?
The cruel Irony: My cousin chides me for always suggesting and wanting to go to places that cost money, but guess what she misses, those places have a lesser level concentrate of ghetto, trifling and trash. So thus, by the money spent, the veneer, a limit is placed on the possibility of being thrashed. And even if this is occurring to just me a lone, maybe that is the point: i am being called out. Away, apart and from. Peculiar.
I see that as the message. If I am not on first class penthouse patio in rare aire, and clearly, in the presence of obvious opposing, ominous and humongous muscular male protection, I need to stay out the fray. I shudder and hesitate to think what is next, what is to come... Professor Deosoran already frightened me during the week when he talked about people being preyed upon in their home; bashed in and violated, and I wonder how it is I can be even more invisible and obscure in my day to day life, living, entering and returning to my home? And is this really part of living, how one can be invisible to be safe; how one can not attract attention to stay alive? And how can a character as me do that: foreign unplaceable accent, hair my own and not a weave cascading down my back, a black chic who acts, moves, swivels like an international model on bohemian day? with my bejeweled wrists and ears? And with an aire of grand possibility, unlimited movement, and stories and experiences of epic modern proportions> How does someone like that move without being notice, least of all for that glow of light within to skin? Impossible.
And that is what I surmise last night: two cheap greasy nasty ghetto gutter gullies , saw me, they were there for a long time, watching me and my family/friends having too good a time: too beautiful, all of us, all men and man passing up with some comment, pouring us some drink, bringing their stash and lime to be with us...Edmund Dillon stop beating iron to say hi; Camera Glamla Kamla shaking my hands, photo taking with my friend, giving her compliment, reminding me it was since 2009 when we first spoke, she and I...i was too damn cute...you dont sully someone who already is; you try to bring down what shines to your duttiness...the war is expanding...the native masses are losing their minds, they no longer attack the systems and themselves, they now look and focus locked on those of us who were born transcended traversed and inoculated from their stock.
Everyone is talking about it in different ways: these are not humans, these are beasts. So, how to beware
I awake this morning believing something is up. Lots is in the air. And last of all, that l must cease being around one who is family and used to be my best friend. She too is disintegrating and hasnt a clue. I wonder if it is in the water...
I was at UWI yesterday looking at the young people; so many of the boys are battie, the other few on the line in pants tighter than what i wore when i was a size 2, with their full bottom exposed/skinny three quarters, with more flare than Pointe-e-Pierre. and the girls made me think of 'nastyfatnasty' what we called women back in the day who did not know how to carry their bodies, selves and weight; just everything out and showing, in shadow and cleavages...or if not that...so masculine with their hand and chest greetings...as the men. I swear on some imperceptible way, the girls are now boys and the boys are now girls...
And people are not growing better, not refining and improving but unraveling and it scares me, because I do not want to do that, be that but i feel if you are around these coarse and ugly stimuli, one is forced for survival to mirror and too, become animalistic.
While at the same time, there is a set that chides you for naming a spade, when it is called, so we are in this perpetual cyclical vortex, where nothing is anything and everything is mad; and no one is true to any core..we are all just floating, bouncing or destroying each other as microscopic cells in space, cleaving, repelling, diseased, or flowing..in ever increasing unsafe spaces. So where can one be, free...
I wake up this Sunday with all those dynamics; and clueless as to what to do with it all...but feeling withdrawal, silent prayer, to the stars, self, universe, black holes, is best. So much i have to do to survive; so much i have to compromise, after spending half a life and all my youth in preparation so i would never have to; so that compromise would not be the pillow and bed I sleep at night, nor the shoe I wear, no matter what occasion, purpose, for daily walking . but here it is, here i am, that is what it is.
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