1. Red Hook park pier at 8am in the early summer. Where black fisherman still exist and grab some time together before the pier becomes crowded and can enjoy their fishing tradition with an unobstructed view of the Statue of Liberty. You can hear and the ocean lapping against the land making hard to remember that you’re in Brooklyn. This place is rugged and open, and seems to remain a secret. In one case, one of the fishermen asks if I want to see what he caught, I look over and into his bucket, scream and recoil when I see a bloated, bluish, thorny looking fish with bulgy eyes reminiscent to Blinky. They all laugh and I respond with, that fish is so ugly you cant even use it for bait!
2. The Gowanus Canal located between Red Hook and Park Slope, and on the edge of Carroll Gardens is a sacred place that you will never have to compete with a tourist or any local for that matter, to have view while a leaning against the Union street bridge, one of the four bridges that this toxic canal passes through. Mostly known as the dumping ground for the Mafia back in the day. It sits on the edge of Carroll Gardens which has a reputation as ‘home’ to the mob. Al Capone’ wedding took place just a few blocks away in this predominately Italian neighborhood in St. Ann’s.
3. Carroll Gardens, is a place I call home, with tree-lined streets that meet Smith Street, the main strip, otherwise known as, ‘Little France’. There is Bartabec, Robin de Bois, Patois and a hair salon, Salon de Quartier. Patois, was a great little restaurant with horrible service, but heart warming food. It houses a dinning room with a hearthy fireplace, reflecting a cozy and intimate environment. It closed up and moved away from Smith street two years back to the city. It was wonderful for brunch where you could once indulge in roasted duck with poached eggs, unlimited Bloody Mary’s and coffee, and brown bread with butter that tastes like cream. It reminded me of having a late lunch in Dingle, Ireland.
4. Red Hook Recreational Center and Pool is the best thing to do to beat the heat. All you need is a bikini, a lock for your stuff, and some money. Claim a spot for your towel towards the end of the large, Olympic size pool (this is the pool they were going to use if we were granted the summer Olympics.) After a few laps, cross the street to the Latino Food Stalls, and enjoy some home-made Guatemalan tamales and Salvadorian empanadas. Burn it off, with a 5-block walk over to Sixpoints Brewery for a pint of Brooklyn’s finest atop the balcony to enjoy views of the sun set.
5. Pearl River is an over-priced, Asian store on Broadway close to Canal that specializes in super cool trinkets, you know, of all of the things you don’t need, but must have once inside. You go for two bags of the brown rice loose tea, and walk out with everything ranging from little silk purses, to bamboo placemats, wooden blinds and one of those cute ceramic waving, one-eyed cats. Once you have burned through your wallet, after making that one final purchase of a gold dipped dog with money in it’s mouth, for the Year of the Dog, you spend what ever you have left over on stocking stuffers and gifts for out-of towners on Canal street.
Monday, January 19, 2009
My Top 5 New York
1. Red Hook park pier at 8am in the early summer. Where black fisherman still exist and grab some time together before the pier becomes crowded and can enjoy their fishing tradition with an unobstructed view of the Statue of Liberty. You can hear and the ocean lapping against the land making hard to remember that you’re in Brooklyn. This place is rugged and open, and seems to remain a secret. In one case, one of the fishermen asks if I want to see what he caught, I look over and into his bucket, scream and recoil when I see a bloated, bluish, thorny looking fish with bulgy eyes reminiscent to Blinky. They all laugh and I respond with, that fish is so ugly you cant even use it for bait!
2. The Gowanus Canal located between Red Hook and Park Slope, and on the edge of Carroll Gardens is a sacred place that you will never have to compete with a tourist or any local for that matter, to have view while a leaning against the Union street bridge, one of the four bridges that this toxic canal passes through. Mostly known as the dumping ground for the Mafia back in the day. It sits on the edge of Carroll Gardens which has a reputation as ‘home’ to the mob. Al Capone’ wedding took place just a few blocks away in this predominately Italian neighborhood in St. Ann’s.
3. Carroll Gardens, is a place I call home, with tree-lined streets that meet Smith Street, the main strip, otherwise known as, ‘Little France’. There is Bartabec, Robin de Bois, Patois and a hair salon, Salon de Quartier. Patois, was a great little restaurant with horrible service, but heart warming food. It houses a dinning room with a hearthy fireplace, reflecting a cozy and intimate environment. It closed up and moved away from Smith street two years back to the city. It was wonderful for brunch where you could once indulge in roasted duck with poached eggs, unlimited Bloody Mary’s and coffee, and brown bread with butter that tastes like cream. It reminded me of having a late lunch in Dingle, Ireland.
4. Red Hook Recreational Center and Pool is the best thing to do to beat the heat. All you need is a bikini, a lock for your stuff, and some money. Claim a spot for your towel towards the end of the large, Olympic size pool (this is the pool they were going to use if we were granted the summer Olympics.) After a few laps, cross the street to the Latino Food Stalls, and enjoy some home-made Guatemalan tamales and Salvadorian empanadas. Burn it off, with a 5-block walk over to Sixpoints Brewery for a pint of Brooklyn’s finest atop the balcony to enjoy views of the sun set.
5. Pearl River is an over-priced, Asian store on Broadway close to Canal that specializes in super cool trinkets, you know, of all of the things you don’t need, but must have once inside. You go for two bags of the brown rice loose tea, and walk out with everything ranging from little silk purses, to bamboo placemats, wooden blinds and one of those cute ceramic waving, one-eyed cats. Once you have burned through your wallet, after making that one final purchase of a gold dipped dog with money in it’s mouth, for the Year of the Dog, you spend what ever you have left over on stocking stuffers and gifts for out-of towners on Canal street.
2. The Gowanus Canal located between Red Hook and Park Slope, and on the edge of Carroll Gardens is a sacred place that you will never have to compete with a tourist or any local for that matter, to have view while a leaning against the Union street bridge, one of the four bridges that this toxic canal passes through. Mostly known as the dumping ground for the Mafia back in the day. It sits on the edge of Carroll Gardens which has a reputation as ‘home’ to the mob. Al Capone’ wedding took place just a few blocks away in this predominately Italian neighborhood in St. Ann’s.
3. Carroll Gardens, is a place I call home, with tree-lined streets that meet Smith Street, the main strip, otherwise known as, ‘Little France’. There is Bartabec, Robin de Bois, Patois and a hair salon, Salon de Quartier. Patois, was a great little restaurant with horrible service, but heart warming food. It houses a dinning room with a hearthy fireplace, reflecting a cozy and intimate environment. It closed up and moved away from Smith street two years back to the city. It was wonderful for brunch where you could once indulge in roasted duck with poached eggs, unlimited Bloody Mary’s and coffee, and brown bread with butter that tastes like cream. It reminded me of having a late lunch in Dingle, Ireland.
4. Red Hook Recreational Center and Pool is the best thing to do to beat the heat. All you need is a bikini, a lock for your stuff, and some money. Claim a spot for your towel towards the end of the large, Olympic size pool (this is the pool they were going to use if we were granted the summer Olympics.) After a few laps, cross the street to the Latino Food Stalls, and enjoy some home-made Guatemalan tamales and Salvadorian empanadas. Burn it off, with a 5-block walk over to Sixpoints Brewery for a pint of Brooklyn’s finest atop the balcony to enjoy views of the sun set.
5. Pearl River is an over-priced, Asian store on Broadway close to Canal that specializes in super cool trinkets, you know, of all of the things you don’t need, but must have once inside. You go for two bags of the brown rice loose tea, and walk out with everything ranging from little silk purses, to bamboo placemats, wooden blinds and one of those cute ceramic waving, one-eyed cats. Once you have burned through your wallet, after making that one final purchase of a gold dipped dog with money in it’s mouth, for the Year of the Dog, you spend what ever you have left over on stocking stuffers and gifts for out-of towners on Canal street.
I AM FROM...........
I am from
I am from red candy apples, chalk on pavement, and hopscotch
I am from plastic covers that protect living room furniture
From the game ’Twister’ and Shoots and Ladders
I am from ‘Threes Company’ and ‘Little House on the Prairie
I am from tiny individual cereal boxes that come in a “variety pack”.
I’m from vacations that include motels with a kichenette, a hallway that leads to an ice vending machine, shuffleboard and fake palm trees
I’m from frozen dinners and take out pizza, with the thin crisp crust and the gooey cheese
I’m from the city of cheese steaks and soft pretzels, mummers parade, disgruntled fans
I am from Atari, Simon, Parcheesi and tag
Tag at night, in the summer, after catching lighting bugs and mosquito bites
I’m from the twilight of the tv screen in a darkened room
And an imagination all my own
I am from red candy apples, chalk on pavement, and hopscotch
I am from plastic covers that protect living room furniture
From the game ’Twister’ and Shoots and Ladders
I am from ‘Threes Company’ and ‘Little House on the Prairie
I am from tiny individual cereal boxes that come in a “variety pack”.
I’m from vacations that include motels with a kichenette, a hallway that leads to an ice vending machine, shuffleboard and fake palm trees
I’m from frozen dinners and take out pizza, with the thin crisp crust and the gooey cheese
I’m from the city of cheese steaks and soft pretzels, mummers parade, disgruntled fans
I am from Atari, Simon, Parcheesi and tag
Tag at night, in the summer, after catching lighting bugs and mosquito bites
I’m from the twilight of the tv screen in a darkened room
And an imagination all my own
I AM FROM...........
I am from
I am from red candy apples, chalk on pavement, and hopscotch
I am from plastic covers that protect living room furniture
From the game ’Twister’ and Shoots and Ladders
I am from ‘Threes Company’ and ‘Little House on the Prairie
I am from tiny individual cereal boxes that come in a “variety pack”.
I’m from vacations that include motels with a kichenette, a hallway that leads to an ice vending machine, shuffleboard and fake palm trees
I’m from frozen dinners and take out pizza, with the thin crisp crust and the gooey cheese
I’m from the city of cheese steaks and soft pretzels, mummers parade, disgruntled fans
I am from Atari, Simon, Parcheesi and tag
Tag at night, in the summer, after catching lighting bugs and mosquito bites
I’m from the twilight of the tv screen in a darkened room
And an imagination all my own
I am from red candy apples, chalk on pavement, and hopscotch
I am from plastic covers that protect living room furniture
From the game ’Twister’ and Shoots and Ladders
I am from ‘Threes Company’ and ‘Little House on the Prairie
I am from tiny individual cereal boxes that come in a “variety pack”.
I’m from vacations that include motels with a kichenette, a hallway that leads to an ice vending machine, shuffleboard and fake palm trees
I’m from frozen dinners and take out pizza, with the thin crisp crust and the gooey cheese
I’m from the city of cheese steaks and soft pretzels, mummers parade, disgruntled fans
I am from Atari, Simon, Parcheesi and tag
Tag at night, in the summer, after catching lighting bugs and mosquito bites
I’m from the twilight of the tv screen in a darkened room
And an imagination all my own
Sunday, January 18, 2009
POEMS
:: train ::
Ladies and gentlemen
I’m hungry
A dollar
A nickel, a penny, anything would help
Maybe a piece of fruit
And if you are feeling up to a hug
Heads shift up out of habit
But then retire back to their book
Anywhere to avert their eyes
Same ol' song and dance
For some, this F train
has been their performance space, platform , and sounding board
for years
No woman, no cry no woman no cry
I remember whenna' we used to it…
In between, fade outs of public speeches and entertainment
we sit unfazed or at least sport a mask of sub-emotion
fade back in, and become the clinking, the clattering of the train amid a fog of conversations
“Delancey, East Broadway next stop”
train escorts us along
paranoia sets in, of my fellow, intimately situated stranger
reading my most private of thoughts
I look up to determine that he is quite submerged in his own reading
My narcissism, such self-importance to assume this stranger is just aching to share in even just a glimpse of my material
My profanity on paper
Any concern for privacy
Material for my own consumption
look around and take in all of the people in my wide-angle view, my telephoto
outcry of averting eyes
towards public ads: CUNY
Legal assistance, en espanol
Glasses, sans glasses, headphones, black, white, ipods, iphones, blackberries, songs seeping tinny through cheap phones, muffled crap music through others
A palette of fluorescent light and mundane hues, not too foreign from the office I just escaped
We ride in this familiar interior for 20 minutes and more a day strangers to one another we are the pole holders, or the lucky few who are the seat dwellers
We are strangers we are each other, we are new Yorkers.
(end)
::transport me, transfer me::
Transport me, transfer me
Serrendipously, lovingly
In this vessel, this silver submarine
Sleepy and serene
With out an exterior scene
We are forced to look with in
With those we share this 60 feet tin
A temporary place with our urban kin
United we stand
United we claim our place in this 20 minute space
Us lucky ones sit
Unyielding
Colors in dream
redeem
a seat or
a lean
Conversations in Yiddish, Russian ,Spanish
Brooklynish
We ride along in a daze, day dreaming to be someone else, somewhere else
(end)
: love ::
A grab from around the waist
As she does the dishes
A stern, ‘not now Joe’
To follow
‘to my beautiful wife’
‘to my loving husband’
this is how they address one another
on paper during holidays
she wears the pants
he provides them
she dictates
he educates
she reads circulars
he cuts the grass
she leans into the dishwasher
he smacks her ass
they argue, they fight
they bitch and they yell
they dwell
in safety and support
in love
a communion only they can know
kids they come and go
they come and go
pets they live and die
they live and die
a couple , they grow and grow
fore ever they grow
he calls her Bell
she calls him Joe
(end) created for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary
Ladies and gentlemen
I’m hungry
A dollar
A nickel, a penny, anything would help
Maybe a piece of fruit
And if you are feeling up to a hug
Heads shift up out of habit
But then retire back to their book
Anywhere to avert their eyes
Same ol' song and dance
For some, this F train
has been their performance space, platform , and sounding board
for years
No woman, no cry no woman no cry
I remember whenna' we used to it…
In between, fade outs of public speeches and entertainment
we sit unfazed or at least sport a mask of sub-emotion
fade back in, and become the clinking, the clattering of the train amid a fog of conversations
“Delancey, East Broadway next stop”
train escorts us along
paranoia sets in, of my fellow, intimately situated stranger
reading my most private of thoughts
I look up to determine that he is quite submerged in his own reading
My narcissism, such self-importance to assume this stranger is just aching to share in even just a glimpse of my material
My profanity on paper
Any concern for privacy
Material for my own consumption
look around and take in all of the people in my wide-angle view, my telephoto
outcry of averting eyes
towards public ads: CUNY
Legal assistance, en espanol
Glasses, sans glasses, headphones, black, white, ipods, iphones, blackberries, songs seeping tinny through cheap phones, muffled crap music through others
A palette of fluorescent light and mundane hues, not too foreign from the office I just escaped
We ride in this familiar interior for 20 minutes and more a day strangers to one another we are the pole holders, or the lucky few who are the seat dwellers
We are strangers we are each other, we are new Yorkers.
(end)
::transport me, transfer me::
Transport me, transfer me
Serrendipously, lovingly
In this vessel, this silver submarine
Sleepy and serene
With out an exterior scene
We are forced to look with in
With those we share this 60 feet tin
A temporary place with our urban kin
United we stand
United we claim our place in this 20 minute space
Us lucky ones sit
Unyielding
Colors in dream
redeem
a seat or
a lean
Conversations in Yiddish, Russian ,Spanish
Brooklynish
We ride along in a daze, day dreaming to be someone else, somewhere else
(end)
: love ::
A grab from around the waist
As she does the dishes
A stern, ‘not now Joe’
To follow
‘to my beautiful wife’
‘to my loving husband’
this is how they address one another
on paper during holidays
she wears the pants
he provides them
she dictates
he educates
she reads circulars
he cuts the grass
she leans into the dishwasher
he smacks her ass
they argue, they fight
they bitch and they yell
they dwell
in safety and support
in love
a communion only they can know
kids they come and go
they come and go
pets they live and die
they live and die
a couple , they grow and grow
fore ever they grow
he calls her Bell
she calls him Joe
(end) created for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary
POEMS
:: train ::
Ladies and gentlemen
I’m hungry
A dollar
A nickel, a penny, anything would help
Maybe a piece of fruit
And if you are feeling up to a hug
Heads shift up out of habit
But then retire back to their book
Anywhere to avert their eyes
Same ol' song and dance
For some, this F train
has been their performance space, platform , and sounding board
for years
No woman, no cry no woman no cry
I remember whenna' we used to it…
In between, fade outs of public speeches and entertainment
we sit unfazed or at least sport a mask of sub-emotion
fade back in, and become the clinking, the clattering of the train amid a fog of conversations
“Delancey, East Broadway next stop”
train escorts us along
paranoia sets in, of my fellow, intimately situated stranger
reading my most private of thoughts
I look up to determine that he is quite submerged in his own reading
My narcissism, such self-importance to assume this stranger is just aching to share in even just a glimpse of my material
My profanity on paper
Any concern for privacy
Material for my own consumption
look around and take in all of the people in my wide-angle view, my telephoto
outcry of averting eyes
towards public ads: CUNY
Legal assistance, en espanol
Glasses, sans glasses, headphones, black, white, ipods, iphones, blackberries, songs seeping tinny through cheap phones, muffled crap music through others
A palette of fluorescent light and mundane hues, not too foreign from the office I just escaped
We ride in this familiar interior for 20 minutes and more a day strangers to one another we are the pole holders, or the lucky few who are the seat dwellers
We are strangers we are each other, we are new Yorkers.
(end)
::transport me, transfer me::
Transport me, transfer me
Serrendipously, lovingly
In this vessel, this silver submarine
Sleepy and serene
With out an exterior scene
We are forced to look with in
With those we share this 60 feet tin
A temporary place with our urban kin
United we stand
United we claim our place in this 20 minute space
Us lucky ones sit
Unyielding
Colors in dream
redeem
a seat or
a lean
Conversations in Yiddish, Russian ,Spanish
Brooklynish
We ride along in a daze, day dreaming to be someone else, somewhere else
(end)
: love ::
A grab from around the waist
As she does the dishes
A stern, ‘not now Joe’
To follow
‘to my beautiful wife’
‘to my loving husband’
this is how they address one another
on paper during holidays
she wears the pants
he provides them
she dictates
he educates
she reads circulars
he cuts the grass
she leans into the dishwasher
he smacks her ass
they argue, they fight
they bitch and they yell
they dwell
in safety and support
in love
a communion only they can know
kids they come and go
they come and go
pets they live and die
they live and die
a couple , they grow and grow
fore ever they grow
he calls her Bell
she calls him Joe
(end) created for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary
Ladies and gentlemen
I’m hungry
A dollar
A nickel, a penny, anything would help
Maybe a piece of fruit
And if you are feeling up to a hug
Heads shift up out of habit
But then retire back to their book
Anywhere to avert their eyes
Same ol' song and dance
For some, this F train
has been their performance space, platform , and sounding board
for years
No woman, no cry no woman no cry
I remember whenna' we used to it…
In between, fade outs of public speeches and entertainment
we sit unfazed or at least sport a mask of sub-emotion
fade back in, and become the clinking, the clattering of the train amid a fog of conversations
“Delancey, East Broadway next stop”
train escorts us along
paranoia sets in, of my fellow, intimately situated stranger
reading my most private of thoughts
I look up to determine that he is quite submerged in his own reading
My narcissism, such self-importance to assume this stranger is just aching to share in even just a glimpse of my material
My profanity on paper
Any concern for privacy
Material for my own consumption
look around and take in all of the people in my wide-angle view, my telephoto
outcry of averting eyes
towards public ads: CUNY
Legal assistance, en espanol
Glasses, sans glasses, headphones, black, white, ipods, iphones, blackberries, songs seeping tinny through cheap phones, muffled crap music through others
A palette of fluorescent light and mundane hues, not too foreign from the office I just escaped
We ride in this familiar interior for 20 minutes and more a day strangers to one another we are the pole holders, or the lucky few who are the seat dwellers
We are strangers we are each other, we are new Yorkers.
(end)
::transport me, transfer me::
Transport me, transfer me
Serrendipously, lovingly
In this vessel, this silver submarine
Sleepy and serene
With out an exterior scene
We are forced to look with in
With those we share this 60 feet tin
A temporary place with our urban kin
United we stand
United we claim our place in this 20 minute space
Us lucky ones sit
Unyielding
Colors in dream
redeem
a seat or
a lean
Conversations in Yiddish, Russian ,Spanish
Brooklynish
We ride along in a daze, day dreaming to be someone else, somewhere else
(end)
: love ::
A grab from around the waist
As she does the dishes
A stern, ‘not now Joe’
To follow
‘to my beautiful wife’
‘to my loving husband’
this is how they address one another
on paper during holidays
she wears the pants
he provides them
she dictates
he educates
she reads circulars
he cuts the grass
she leans into the dishwasher
he smacks her ass
they argue, they fight
they bitch and they yell
they dwell
in safety and support
in love
a communion only they can know
kids they come and go
they come and go
pets they live and die
they live and die
a couple , they grow and grow
fore ever they grow
he calls her Bell
she calls him Joe
(end) created for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary
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