Tuesday, August 04, 2009

new day

im in a new place in a new neighborhood. i live alone now.

the area is good, but a far cry from my old neighborhood of park slope. the denizens are darker and they all have island accents. the restaurants sell mainly jerk chicken and macaroni and cheese. i have yet to find a cafe and the supermarket around the corner from my house doesnt sell organic bags of lettuce. there is a bodega on almost every corner and most of them stay open 24 hours a day. though after a certain hour you can only buy stuff through a small bulletproof window. there is no where to eat when its deep in the morning, unless you want fried food or burgers with a lot of mayonnaise.

i live in an eight unit building and my apartment is on the first floor above the ground floor. the architecture is charming but the building could be cleaner. i think the super is lazy, or always busy, or just simply not around. ive only met him once and he was spanish and spoke fast and seemed to be in a rush to get back to his apartment upstairs. he has parrots in his place and i could hear them squawking when i went up there and knocked on his door once. it sounded like behind his door was a tropical paradise i would never see nor visit. the other day i saw him banging on my next door neighbors door trying to get them to open up. through the peephole i saw he was wearing a tanktop - a wife beater- and he kept running his hand through his hair filled with stress and frustration. they werent home and after fifteen minutes he just walked away mumbling in spanish.

even though there are only eight units in the building i havent met many of my neighbors, just the guy that lives directly next door to me. hes older, maybe close to sixty, and he lives with a couple women. im not sure if they are his wife and daughter or what. there is a baby over there too. he is very nice and always says hello and when i first moved in he introduced himself to me and then me to all the other neighbors. he would drag me to each person and tell me their name and position in his clipped island accent. i could only understand half of what he was saying but would shake hands with each neighbor and smile and say hello. they all smiled back and their breath smelled of rum and they would throw their head back and laugh and joy would boom from their mouths.

every morning a few old ladies post chairs on the stoop and sit and watch the city go by. they gossip and drink from their cups until the evening falls upon them. the men begin to gather as the day wears on and sometimes they bring a small radio and set it down and play dance hall or soca and wiggle their hips happily. they are always polite and neighborly when i pass by and you get the feeling that the entire block is protected by their jovial union. one thing i never am is afraid.

since she left, the kitties, who were initially disconcerted with the whole move, have calmed down some. they miss her and the love she gave and i believe they still wait for her to come home but time has eased on them a bit and now they just sleep and get in my way when im typing. i try to feed them in the same routine i did at the old place but my schedule wont entirely allow it. this means they get less wet food but thats ok. now i just save it for treats.

i spend my nights alone even though people try to call and bring me out. ive decided to be a hermit for a while because i think its the only natural thing to do. i watch movies and tv and read articles on line. i watch porno and masturbate and chat with friends. i drink until i pass out and try to wake up in my bed instead of the couch. i have bay windows and the sun pours through them and the heat suspends itself in the air, attached to everything. i try to fill my days with chores but sometimes there is nothing to do but sit and wait. i dont even know what im waiting for.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

Creative Commons License
:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at downtownalleys.blogspot.com.