the minds of babes...

Upon my return to New York City, especially the Bronx, there were a few characteristics of the area that I was apprehensive about witnessing again.
Let me preface the girth of this blog by saying that the mind of a child is a precious and extremely malleable thing. What you put in it is very much what you get out of it.
In thinking of my future children (years from now) I put emphasis on making sure the first time that they hear they're beautiful or gifted, is not from a stranger but from their parents...with that.

I've seen a number of accounts, since being home, of children being mentally and verbally abused in public. It is a sick trend in these here parts of the 'hood' and few things crawl underneath my skin and ignite the wish for bodily harm upon another individual. Some of this city's occupants and the way they talk to their children and grand-children is baffling and disgusting. Beautiful, innocent, being told publicly that that "ain't shit" and "won't ever be shit" has done everything except draw me to tears and blows. I can't take it anymore.

This particular incident happened on the "D" train. what appeared to be a grandmother and granddaughter duo sat in front of me as I traveled to work. From the moment they sat down the grandmother was complaining to the little girl.

"You need to stop acting like a tomboy. No man will love you with all the scratches on your clothes."
"I ain't never buying you shit ever again. I bought you a whole thing of hair clips and now you only have two left."
"I'm so sick of you. Don't even talk to me before I smack you in the face."
"You make me sick. I'm so tired."

It was one psychological hit after another. I looked at this silent girl's face and I could see her turning into a mental punching bag for this evil bitch sitting next to her.

The little girl was gorgeous. Light-skinned, sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a tomboyish style that not for one minute overshadowed the fact that she was gorgeous, while her grandmother sat there toothless and miserable. I could see her mind mentally filing and registering every negative comment. I could see the layers of distorted self images being built, right through her eyes. I was furious. I wanted nothing more than to tell her how beautiful she was.

The train approached 145th Street. They got up to get off, with a man who'd tried unsuccessfully to catch my eye prior, sat down.

"Oh wait," said the grandmother,"next stop."

Switching their position, the little girl sat directly next to me and the grandmother across. I looked at the girl and smiled. She smiled back. Screeching to a stop at 125th the little girl gets up, preparing to exit, and without thinking I looked her in the eye and spoke.

"You are beautiful," I said.
"Thank you."
"You're gorgeous and don't you ever forget that."
She smiled, "Thank you."

In my mind, I wanted to save her from her own involuntary hell.

Feeling good about my good deed, yet that it was not enough to balance out the emotional genocide her grandmother was unleashing, I hoped it made a difference. I hoped in her toughest of times she remembered the stranger that told her what someone in her family didn't.

"She's beautiful, but not as beautiful as you," said the asshole that didn't understand the significance of the recent moment.

"No. No one is more beautiful than that girl," I sternly responded then began writing in my journal. This man was looking for the right line at the wrong time...tough break.

a night of strangers...

If New York City is good for one thing, it's meeting strangers. Most of you know I tend to chill at Starbucks, writing and editing, for hours at a time. Tonight was a three hour session.

Stranger number 1
In my groove, the inevitable 'I have to pee' kicks in and I now have to scour those closest to me to see who I trust most to watch my computer while I run to the bathroom.
I pick this European looking gentleman at the table directly in front of mine. I actually barely had to speak. He understood my body language and told me to go. I did.

A few minutes after my return, he asked me to watch his stuff. With a successful reciprocation, we began talking. He explained how he was doing work while waiting for friends in the city, as not to have endured the traffic between Manhattan and Jersey this evening. Makes sense.

He then started to dig into what I was doing there, and how I scored one of the best tables in the whole place. Intro to Nomad•ness and the memoir. He was intrigued and I was flattered. He wanted to witness more, so I gave him one of my new business cards. He was cool.

Stranger number 2
I left Starbucks hungry as hell but refused fast food. Wholefoods was open until 11pm, so I decided to head in. As I eyed the Indian buffet section an older gentleman stopped me.

Pointing to samosas he asked, "Are these spicy?"
"Depending on how they make it, it can be, but it's just vegetables and potatoes," I responded.
"You're probably from the Caribbean, huh?"
"As a matter of fact, I'm not."
"Really? Where are you from?"
"New York. My father is African-American. My mother is Irish, Italian, Dutch, and Native-American."

He wanted to keep talking, in amazement. I didn't, so I walked away.

Stranger number 3

I don't know why I attract the New York city crazies. I don't know why but I do EVERY TIME. I have friends that can vouch for this and have video to prove this. First off, the 4 train, at night, tends to be a freak show to begin with...always entertaining, with a shot of weird, and sometimes a sprinkle of scary.

Tonight this dude, with two teeth, asked me if the 4 train runs to Harlem. Now, I have noticed something in my years of living in the city. A person is as crazy as their repetition. Meaning, if someone asks you something once, ok. Twice, a pink flag should go up. Keep an eye on them. Three times, this person is crazy. More than three times, switch to another train car at the next stop.

I swear it's true.

This dude, in between talking to himself, asked me if the train stopped at 125th probably 5011 times...and it was only 4 express stops away. I wanted to tell him it was two more stops then as many teeth as he had in his mouth and watch him do the math. That would have been mean though.

The 4 train is alive and well...

stream...

of conscious...I've watched more tv in two days then in the last year. It makes my brain go numb and I no longer like it, unless I am creating it. I prefer when it is off and I am doing something more productive (like this)...Kinda bummed I missed the pillow fight in Union Square yesterday...all the guys came to the party, but none of the girls...hmmm...Dj Rich Medina is my favorite DJ in NYC...first 2 questions everyone asks: 1: How does it feel to be back? 2:How long are you staying?...answer to both: I don't know...the interview went good...best compliment I've had since being home: You look like you have no stress in your life...that kiss was good. too fucking good. it melted my heart but not my focus, continuing on...I can't wait to go to DC...I'm not stressed about funds maybe the way I should be, oh well...I'm so certain in my path...I think you're bisexual...seeing Mom and sharing things from my students with her was cool...life feels good right now because it is on my own schedule...today will begin the writing/Nomad•ness headhunting...Long Island is going to be fun...I have lost more weight, cannot wait to go to the gym...i want my cholesterol down 20 points this year...I wonder if he's been tested...I've been away from writing, photography, and film for two weeks now. I felt that I needed to really be in the moment as I said goodbye to Japan, and hello to New York, not documenting it...Bronxnet was the Universe's reminder to keep focused...Zorro sleeping next to me will forever make me smile...Every time I look at my new tattoo, I smile uncontrollably. I love what it represents...Joe and Justin still rock...I have just appeared in NYC and already feel the need to disappear...pacing the use of this BBerry. These things are no joke...patting myself on the back for the design of my new business cards. cannot wait for their arrival...purple nails are not my favorite, changing to black or green tomorrow...i miss 6 hour sessions in Starbucks...my life is amazing...Kotoyo needs to come to New York...I need to go to Miami...I hope Megan continues to grow...I hope Kotoyo and Suguru get married...modify if needed, but don't you fucking dare delete...nani yumeh des ka? I know mine...Peru, Brazil, Argentina, Australia, Thailand, Japan, Turkey, Egypt, and Europe sound like a phenomenal way for me to spend my summer...let's go! You can vote for me EVERYDAY! HERE