Hate alone is not enough to nourish. But there’s rage too.

i do believe that julio gonazlez showed me some peace tonight. and i am sure that he didn’t use human growth hormone or pay an easy G per hour for a hooker. he probably did a bunch of other stuff that i don’t think i agree with. but he gave me what i was looking for. which wasn’t people flying planes into a building or a scapegoat or an easy way out. just peace.
and he quieted a bunch of other people. and peace and quiet seem to go together. much harder in new york than other places (i’ve been). but he shut them up. well.

made me question if it is more powerful for an individual to bring a crowd to speak or to silence.
or is it more powerful for an individual to speak than to be silent.
balance is the answer

oh i saw him very near to my current plot. a building that i was curious about. sensory pleasing all around.

i am thinking that #2 and #5 are most important

while starting my car yesterday, i heard squealling rubber for a moment which stopped and then came back for good about 10 seconds later. i disengaged the ingintion and popped the hood to investigate. somehow the belt had worked itself loose and was stuck between the pulley and the engine block.
i noticed something long thin at the bottom of the engine compartment coming out from beneath the radiator. figuring it was part of the belt, i reached down and picked it up only to find that it had some weight to it and it was furry. as my urban instincts kicked in i realized it was a rat so i dropped it. this new information in hand and a closer inspection of the “grease” is noticed scattered around the engine compartment revealed that the grey and red substance was probably rat guts. with the help of bobby, local beggar, i got the belt back on to the pulleys.
now it’s time to clean up the mess, so i equipped myself with a shopping bag to pick up and dispose of the remains. turns out i was only able to find half of the victim. i’m guessing the other half will reveal itself gaseously.
i’ll probably need to get the engine steam cleaned.

i’m completely stressing about the building. i know it’s a good investment and this and that but we’re about to take on some more debt and we don’t have a lot of cash in the kitty. just repaired some flooring and what not and cleared out a nice piece of padding. i’ve been sitting on my ass the last year and a … uh I guess almost two years in october. so i own that failure. i haven’t been saving money or working on my place. so if i get priced out of this place i need to be able to rent it out. to do that i need to make major modifications. to do that i have to have motivation or money. so that means it’s time to stop spending and start working. i don’t have a plan. never do. i tend to shoot first and ask questions later. or probably more accurately, don’t shoot at all and don’t ask questions later, just worry and brood. so anyways. i own it. not the building but the situation.

i had to return E’s bke to here yesterday cause i don’t have enough room for it here. it’s a small frame, awkward for me to ride. Oh yeah, she’d also left her keys at my place and was thusly locked out. She took up some eats at an eatery local to her and i said i’d meet her there. i got to her neighborhood and found the place she was at. i was late. So i finished up her dish and we jetted. i was riding her bike and fooling around in the road and stuff and around the corner from her place i was up on the side walk. i see this black impala (read unmarked popo). He slams the car in reverse and stops pretty much in front of me and e. this napolean prick of an officer gets out of the car and excuses himself but “riding on the sidewalk is an offense”. i pony up my id and he runs it. while he’s running my license i see a delivery boy up the road pulling onto the sidewalk. figures. truth is i agree with the law. it’s purpose being preventing pricks like me barreling down a sidewalk full of people and causing a safety hazard. but wait a minute. in brooklyn? at 11:30 on a monday night? besides the fact that i’m sure there’s a bag of something changing hands in front of my apartment at this very hour, is there a real risk when there’s no one out on a 45 f blustery mid-may night. the guy comes back with a summons telling me i can show up at the precinct on such and such to viddy a safety tape. the typical post-confrontation scenarios entered my mind. could i have reasoned with the guy? taken a shot at his crackpot detective work? asked him if this was a productive use of my tax dollars? ask him if he realized that i was walking with a hooker and the bike was stolen? blah blah. but the lockdown was on and i clammed up. oh well. maybe i’ll make the summons date but i’ll be enjoying plenty of nachos, refried beans and buffalo wings the night before to maintain ripeness of air in the viewing room.

so i worked this evening and being that i still dont trust the Gizzle train (although ive seen marked improvement) i opted for a cab {company sponsored of course - see lebanon, my main memory being about how much it sounded like elevenon. freshman year there was a kid from lebanon named masud which i thought was cool and he had a tattoo of lebanon. enough about me. he said he moved to the city when he was 17 in 1984, alone, very little english and shit. real life shit. none of this american blah blah blah those crazy thises and thoses. sounded like a good guy.
he happened to cut some honda off just as we were driving under the bqe and they honked. he continues on and we continue talking and i see the car pull beside us and two, um, lets be politically correct here….. thugs….. yeah i think you get the picture…. brandish a nice shiney pistole. a gat so to speak. first thought is if they’re in such a big hurry then why do they have time to drive along side us. very counter intuitive.
i chose to ignore and continue the conversation and decide not to react because that would just give the thugs what they want. attention. cause if they wanted to shoot they would have.
i also decided not to inform the driver in case he got spooked and reacted. after we lose the thugs i ask if he saw what they were waving.
sez he /yeah happens all of the time/.
sez iandi /you servived lebanon, those punks arent’ going to spook you, huh/.
sez he /civil war started when i was 9/
america (especially white america) has a lot of learning to do about how the world operates. things can get real bad. our government, media and society are real good at isolating us from the realities so that they don’t lose productivity from us. the less we know, the harder we work, the more they make.
not real succinct but truth is i needed a Jack and beer after that so I’m tired.

So I didn’t fag out. Did the open mic and played Woke Up and Use Me. Messed up the first verse of Use Me but pulled it together. Hands were rubbery so I didn’t attempt the embellishments I’d worked out for woke up. Ef and Nk were there which made it cool. Thought I’d get some feedback from them. It was warm. “At least you got up there”, “It’s not all about the singing.” I got the picture that it was mediocre. I followed a bunch of pretty talented singers so that was differnet from last time when there was some newbies. Also, I didn’t fuck up last time like I did this. But, my perspective was that I was slightly more comfortable this time although, surely, visibly nervous. I could swear people were clapping to the beat of woke up, I thought it was Nk and Ef but she said she didn’t hear it. Anyway, I’m mostly just typing this down to document my challenge to keep this up and nail down some more repetoir. There’s mic’s in redhook on Thursdays. I;m going to try to get two under my belt in a week.

Well it’s time for me to do the open mic thing again. I did it once, almost 6 months ago. I did ok. And it gave me something to talk about. But I didn’t follow up. Haven’t done it since. No good excuse. Sloth maybe. Not feeling real confident right now. Voice sort of sucks. Tried to make a few changes to the songs. Not really working. But I just have to get up there again. Time to live up to the smack I talked about having done it once. ewwww. big deal. Time to get it done.

I just got back from the laundry place. These two little girls from down the street were giggling and looking at me so I ask them “what’s going on ladies?” The older one tells the younger one “go ahead tell him christine…” She looks up at me laughing and says “Your shirt is on backwards.” I look and their right. But this isn’t like just a t-shirt it’s like a jersey thing with buttons down the front (well, back in my case). We all had a good laugh. I asked them how they knew it wasn’t my pants that were on backwards or perhaps even my head. I think the problem is with my head but that’s another subject for another post.

Don’t have much to say. I’m just trying to force myself to post. When we bought this building, there were Landmarks Violations and the mortgage company held back 7.5k in Escrow. I’ve put a fair amount of work into removing those. It can be a frustrating process as the LPC was not very responsive for while. Luckily, though, the violations have been removed and we stand to get that money back. I’d be like the lottery if it wasn’t our own money. More like taxes. Anyway, the money’s pretty much ear (not land) marked for a floor replacement project so it won’t provide much breathing room.

I love Brooklyn. I’m walking down the street contemplating what to do with my life. You know go out and shop around or stick with pasta and marinara. These are the things that occupy my mind these days. I’m not dodging insurgent fire or watching out for suicide bombers.

Anyway, I see this beautiful girl walking my way. My eyes were pretty fixed on her as she passed by (no return eye contact) and then I took the obligatory booty glance. As I turn back around I hear an older black dude in back of me,

OBD: “You think you could handle it”
I&I: “I’d like to think so but probably not” (not the truth)
OBD: “What’ve you got to lose? You got to use it while you can. You’re at a good age.”
I&I: “Use it while it still works, huh?”
OBD: “That’s right. Somewhere around 72 all you’ll be doing is saying good morning to your shoes. How old are you?”
I&I: “32 on Wednesday”
OBD: “I’m 82. Born in 1923. When I was your age I never had my pants on.”

My pops decides to come to Brooklyn and hang out with his eldest son. He’s really getting into this biking thing which is good because he doesn’t really have any feeling in his legs and walking just won’t do. I’m glad he finally came up with the idea on his own because my previous suggestions of procuring a bicycle were shot down like a prototype plane pilotted by John Denver (no bullets required).

I was feeling a little under the weather (not the Irish Flu this time) but I couldn’t waste the 1 on 1 time, so I took him to my favorite wings joint.

A song comes on and I ask him if he listens to this particular artist.

‘Dem sez: “it sounds like a white Joe Jackson”

I search the synaps for a black Joe Jackson but the only Joe Jackson (associated with music) I can muster is

I and I: “the only Joe Jackson I know is white.”

‘Dem sez: “you know, the guy that was big last year with the tune about big feet or something”

I and I: “you mean ‘Bubbly Toes’ by Jack Johnson”

‘Dem sea: “I guess.”

I and I: “That’s who we’re listening to”

Ok. So there’s a good chance that I’m being stalked here. I helped a few girls change a tire out in front of the building and let me tell you it by not too far the second hardest tire I’ve ever changed in my life. It got to the point where I was struggling so much with the lugs that they wielded the phone with some auto service. At this point of desperation I took immediate action to try to salvage my machismo. I placed the wrench on the lug in the most horizontal position I could and mounted it. Yep. I just hopped up on the end of the wrench and started bopping up and down. It took a good two or three bops before I heard a frightening metallic sound the assured me something irreperable had resulted. Turns out that it was just the lug losening and I was able to change the tire but that’s not my purpose here. It’s always good to start a blog with an aside.

So these three friends invited me for a beer across the street at the bar (the one they live above), to which I declined at first then acquiesced after coming up with not a single respectable excuse.

That Saturday, I found a guest check (bill from the resty across the way) with a note of interest from one of the ladies. (this has the potential to be a 10,000 word blog). This was a bit unexpected but she wanted to “get to know me better.” So I ran into her the next week and we talked a bit which prompted her to leave another rain soaked note on the windshield.

I gave her a call and we met. Had some dinner, went into the city, played some pool had an ok time. At the end of the night, there was a conversation about wanting to get involved and I explained my position. It’s pretty clear that I’m still more than slightly attached. But this isn’t half as a deterant as the fact that we live directly across the street from each other. It didn’t end up too pretty. She pushed and pushed and said something that struck me as funny. According to her, I was too confident a person for her to feel that she should even leave a note on my windshield. Hasn’t she been reading this blog? maybe I should send her the link. After I dropped her at place (litterally 150′ away) I went home to take a leak. Afterwhich I got a call from her. Basically had to get a little more stern and end the coversation.

Next morning, on my way to work after taking a walk around the car to ensure no tires are slashed, I get a call and a texty that explained how sad she was. That very night, I get a call from her inviting me to an awards show. I declined based on the mornings events and I guess that was it.

So I received a few more calls and texties to which I respond sparingly. Then I see her at the place across the street after a real long day this week. She was dizzzecked izzzout. Sweet looking suit skirt thing that was just made for her. I think to myself, remember she’s a little psycho. And she’s offering up things that I didn’t know were out there and I have to keep telling her about the proximity effect. To the point where she’s asking if I’m gay and I have to remind her again that if things go sour then we show up in this bar together and there’s some serious cringe in the air. Again, after we goodbye, I get a call with another plea.

So I get another texty the next day telling me good morning sunshine. And another today saying that there’s a Frank Sinatra photo she saw that she thought was me.

I don’t know what’s going on here. I feel like I’ve already been a bit of a dick by not returning calls and texties but how bad does this girl want to be treated? Seems like the dish towel treatment is what she’s looking for.

Had a real nice visit from crew belmont this weekend. Matt, Mariel and Dexter made concer(n)ted effort to get here to Brooklyn, which was much appreciated.
People keep offering to come down and give me a hand with the place but I haven’ t found the inspiration yet and when I secure a potential visitor my mind wanders to taking them out and showing them the neighb (although it’s more a ‘hood).
So when I told people that I’d be having my brother down, they suggested I put him to work. In fact, when told that he was visiting madre propositioned that we could really get some work done on the place. M-unit suggested that the realit was that Matt may not be the motivator in the home improvement area of interest.
Just as well. Blood and I were able to hang in the uninhabit(ible)ed section of the pad and pass some nectar and go over some essential shit. I know I got some shit out that I couldn’t with anyone else, even my narcoleptic tool of a therapist.
The thing about it is I’ve been able to turn to the sib for a while now and he’s provided me with a ton of guidance and support. I just hope that I’ll be able to bounce it back to him some day.
So not much to show on the home improvement front this weekend unless you count my head as my home. Which it is. And it wasn’t so much improvement cause I don’t feel all that much better. It was more like demo. Of the the notions. The fears. The hate.

Brooklyn is the bomb. I’m much more of a voyeur than I give myself credit for. While i was sitting at the kitchen table working, a cab pulled front and center in the view of my window. As it was raining out, the half openned back window caught my attention. Through the window I noticed the man in the back was resting his head on the passenger to his left. This seemed odd for a Wednesday at 6:30PM. As the other man and women paid the fare, the corpse came to life (well, not exactly life) . He tried getting out of the cab and made opening a cab door look more difficult than solving the rubiks cube with no arms. Maybe the door was locked? Suddenly, he became quite frantic and I could tell time was running out. As he began to spill all over himself and the cab I thought it such a shame that the windows only went half-way down. That extra 4.5 inches would have made the difference. His friend finally made it around to this side of the cab and openned the door (guess it wasn’t locked) in time for the last few heaves. At this point the cabbie was none too happy, but they jumped back in the cab and took off. Regurge and paper towels securely stuck to the pavement I think to myself, I know I’ll be sweeping those rags off my side walk.

An hour later, the rain has stopped but I’m still working. I notice the two other passengers at the bar across the street enjoying a cigarette at the outdoor seating. The party must go on.

I hope they tipped that cabbie well.