november 3, 2004

Whoo hooo! Welcome, Post #1!!!! Here we go:

“Hail to the thief: We didn’t vote for him.” The election was settled earlier this afternoon, agonizingly announcing that we have four more years of Bush administration corporate cronyism-, fat-cat backscratching-, and dumbing down of the populus for the sake of party-progress-guised-as-politics ahead. Placard signs disclaiming any responsibility for this decision stand at attention against restaurants and bars all over Alphabet City today. “Come drown your sorrows with us.”

A little about the majority of southern New York City for those on the outside: folk are way Democratric and way not into Bush in these hare parts. Despite the highly effective campaigns to demonize her character throughout the country, Hillary Clinton was actually voted into office here. I’ve been frequently startled by the local press, which very overtly critiques Bush and his administration’s policies. Last week’s Village Voice cover contained a full-color drawing of Dubya holding the Statue of Liberty in his arms, teeth marks in her neck, and blood dripping from his fang-ed mouth. And the Voice is not alone in their slant. Other papers do similar things with words. Also, New York is teaming with public and community radio stations. They, along with some of the really bad-good “hot songs of the 70s & 80s” stations that I listen to (“Show Me, Show Me, You Really Love Me,” “Waterfalls” by TLC, “Lady’s Night“ by Kool n the Gang… oh yeah.), have been anti-Bushing over the airwaves since i arrived. Wheat pasted Kerry-Edwards posters and those weird posters with celebrities in shirts that say “VOTE OR DIE” plaster so may of the brick building walls and construction barriers throughout the lower east side. Eavesdropping on casual conversations in elevators and between real “grown ups” in the hallways of my new place of employ’s Midtown skyscraper office returned “Bush sucks soooo much! Look at this policy of his! Look at this war*-related atrocity he’s responsible for!” conversations in at least 20% of all conversations over the past two weeks, and 100% of the conversations involving politics (hey -- don’t challenge my stats – i work in research). And, wearing my otha hat, waiting tables last night, people would periodically either ask me or give me entirely unsolicited updates of how “we’re” doing in the election. New York City is a liberal bastion. It’s tightly woven into the culture. It’s awesome.

But today, the faces on the street are somber. The eyes of passer-bys are kinder and more seeking than typically seen, and the faces are decidedly glum. Today, the city trudged along, its normal briskly clicking speedball pace halted by this rare confrontation with the slower realities of the rest of the nation outside of the city borders. “Do you serve Anhuiser-Busch?” someone asks the bartender at the Lotus bar. “Not anymore!” he says, half joking. But everyone is talking about it. Around me right now at 8:33pm Wednesday, November 3, 2004, everyone, EVERYONE, at every table and barstool is talking about it. And drinking. Copiously. Everyone is resigned. Everyone is pissed. No one is incredulous or outraged. But there is absolutely no lightness, no looking past the problems for the sake of moving on, no living on the surface above it all for New Yorkers today. Today, everyone is carrying a weight, everyone is preoccupied with annoyance and worry and a loosely caged frustrated lack of control. It’s the overwhelming gravity of a situation that they know and have realized as long while ago, but, that, on the island of Manhattan, haven’t had to really face or come to terms with. The realization of the overwhelming fuckupedness and extreme effective genius of their country’s conservative political propaganda machine that has been constantly gnawing at the edges of their ire for four years, but that now demands to be confronted. Today, the gnawing has moved out from the pushed-aside background to claim center stage. And, as a result, today, yesterday's peter pans are forced to question their flying powers in mid air, and tumble back onto the harsh earth; the mighty are humbled, the indomibitable hang their heads as they feel the coldness of outside limitations. Today, New York City is painfully sporting one hell of a toothache.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Talk about the “war” we are in pisses the haell outta me. America is not “at” war. We declared a greed- and public relations –inspired “war” on “terrorism.” Back under Daddy Bush’s reign, we had a “war” on drugs. That one went well, huh? Well, anyway, nobody said we were really “at war” then. Cause we weren’t (good thing too, cause we got our asses kicked.) Now, though, we do. We are not “at war” now, dammit. We need to cut the loose vernacular. It’s making quick and easy links to protectionist fear, which fuels protectionist policies. It’s not helping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i finished this post, i packed up my bag, and brought my bottles to the bar on my way out of the Lotus. A man sitting at the bar by my emptied bottles stopped me. “Excuse me,” he said from a very tan and chisled face with open, wildish eyes and some kind of accent. “i don’t mean to be offensive or rude with what i would like to say,” he begins. “Are you gonna be offensive or rude with what yer gonna say?” i asked, kinda defensive, kinda amused. “Well, no, but, when i saw you coming… earlier, you were surrounded in green, and do you know how the green light is often not very flattering.” He said this more as a statement than a question. i was wearing a green shirt, but "light"? i guessed he was speaking of the light from my computer that i was typing on in the darkened room whose flattering or not-flattering properties i knew nothing of, though i nodded still, now a little more defensive than amused, but hangin in there. “Well,” he continued, “i saw you in the corner, and you looked peaceful and so beautiful in that green light. i hope you are not offended.” i told him i was not, wished him a good night, and thanked him for saying so. Things like that happen all the time here in New York. People say stuff like that on the street when yer wearing a hat, or some funky shoes. Respectful stuff, though. It’s always so respectful when someone pays notice to something. Or, at least, most of the time it is, and those times stand out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A random democratic Texan i ran across at the next joint voluntarily noted the slowness of the city today. A nearby bartender agreed. Triangulation, folks. A little outside affirming of ideas. We've got qualitative research at its best goin on here in the off-hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On another note, Halloween happened earlier this week. For the third year in a row, Elvis lived again (four years ago, it was santa). And, this year, Elvis worked brunch at Kate’s, and was tipped very well for his swagger and natural all-American, bulging-bellied, Vegas-styled charm, well,thankyouverymuch. It was a good day. So much so that, on the way to the Brooklyn-bound F train that would take Elvis to the Brooklyn "Kid and Dog Halloween Parade" to meet up with Roo, the soccer player (he’s a dog), my bro in law, the referee, and my sis, the awesomely coiffed and pastel sweatsuited soccer mom, after work ended, Elvis didn’t mind one bit stopping to arm windmill/hip swivel not one, but two times to the mass “hey Elvis” calls launched from smokers out front of bars. Keeping true to form, Elvis ended up very lost in the new area of NY, and, much to her dismay, also ended up dropping her beloved huge silver bikerElvis sunglasses in the midst of the increasing directional disorientation. But, while the parade had ended by the time it was found (also pretty true to form), the finally located happy family members and close knit groups of boyantly jubilant, home-bound costumed people and pets that crossed Elvis' widely wandering paths up and down the leaf covered streets and sidewalks of Park Slope were so warm and entertaining that nothing really felt missed in the end. A very good Halloween for Elvis (thankyouverymuch).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On a more personal level, following last week's last-minute mad dash from the east cost to the midwest (aaaaah) back to the east coast, right back to a long Sunday shift waiting tables, then right into a new job, i have come down with a doozy of a cold. Can’t really pin point where it’s based, but, if i had to guess, it’s coming up from somewhere deep and evil in my chest. Feels like stuff is going on down there. My lymph nodes in my throat have already been taken out, and i am pretty deeply into one of those winter weary, whole body achy, phlegm-a-comin sicknesses. And it's forboding. My least favorite feeling. Have been cutting way, way back on smoking since moving out here, and haven’t taken a puff since getting back from CU five days ago. Also been packing my after-work hours with lots of to-do work, from walking clear across Manhattan in search of the UPS office to pick up packages before they're returned to sender and carrying big boxes of the goods from the far west side to the far east side back home, to working my slow-as-haell election day 6 til close shift at the restaurant after the 9-5 day in the 'scraper (where i can see the Empire State Building out the window. It's less than a block away. i'll write more on the amazingness of the city from the 13th floor in a lata post). But, yea. Been burning those candles da-own this week. Maybe that’s part of the issue. We'll see how things progress. Right now, though, i am feeling a little blue to be starting my first week of work meeting the peopo in less-than-tip-top shape and resulting worn enthusiasm. But, i'm fighting it with a heaping helping of denial, clementines (yum, clementines), and water. Summoning up the up "coke-eye" energy when introduced to folks, and, luckily, being given lots of down time to read materials and settle in this week. i'm holding out for Saturday, when i plan to just sleep in, go to the park to finish my book, eat a big lunch, then siesta. Oh, how i love the siesta. Very much love in my heart for the big lunch/siesta combo. Can't wait.

Ok. Here's a quote from somewhere around me in the last week regarding, i think, NY -- “Nobody cares here what you do. Nobody cares if you play music. Shit, nobody cares if you wear a freshly dead gopher over yer left shoulder walking down the street, or if you are surrounded by cops and on the ground. You do what you do, and don’t look to othas to help. At least this is how it seems to work in some circles here.”

And a last little sumthin -- It is getting colder here. With the "no smokin in public places" ordinance, it’s pretty common to see people holding unlit cigarettes talking to others in a bar. Though it is still illegal, i have found a few places where, later into the night, the bartender allows smoking. It’s nothing to bank on – it’s all totally based on the personal discretion of the bartender. Either he (it’s always been a he) lights up, or the nod is given to one close asker from the otha side of the bar, in which case, the approval is given, others ask if they can join in too, and once a critical mass of at least three has been reached, cigs appear like wildfire throughout the bar. As a result, the the room gets louder and quicker almost immediately. It's like being at a basement party when the parents go to bed -- a confined group of carefully guarded outlaws-at-heart letting true colors show, and, in the tiniest most fleeting way, bonding together over an unveiling of a shared sin and the possibility of taking a role in the scandalous new secret ahead. A limited amount of small tumblers filled partly with water are given out to the charter smokers as ashtrays that they generally share with others. Unfailingly, someone asks the bartender if they sell cigs (uh, don’t ever do this in NY), a few folks run down the street to one of the many all-night corner fruit stand/flower market/convenience stores to gear up, people smoke and drink away as the edges of compartmentalized isolation that seem to rule interaction here are allowed to blur a little bit more, and the night, she continues to ramble on.

ok. Signing off formal Post #1. Add some comments, won'tcha? i'll write more later!

xo
aimee