My Sunday Walk, Part 2

The incline on the walkway is quite merciful. Takes a while to get up there and with my hip issue it worked nicely for me. But I found the sense of being caged rather annoying. The view, which is really good, is marred by making me keenly aware of what its like to be a hamster. I wasn't thrilled.

See what I mean? For me, most of the walk was a mix of enjoying the beauty of the view and day and wanting to take bolt cutters and remove every inch of this wire fence so I could actually enjoy the expanse and beauty the bridge reveals. I will show you more on the Wednesday post where sometimes I managed to get the camera between wires, but it limited the angle I was able to get.

Here too, the overhead beams, which later disappear and make me suspect they are structurally unnecessary, entirely block what would be an amazing view of the western tower of the bridge. Williamsburg Bridge, for all its bad structural history, is a beautiful example of late 19th century industrial revolution architecture. But you can't really admire it on this walk going toward Brooklyn and that's a real shame. Also the red paint is odd and very out of place against the battleship gray of the bridge itself. Also it contrasts the view.
Poor KB. She's going to think I hate this walk. I don't, I'm just somewhat disappointed by aspects of it.
Here you can see the Western Tower at last. The walkway splits into northern and southern paths and you can look beyond to see it. Still fencing in the way, but really cool.

Again my feelings are split on this one. This is the construction plaque that names the bridge and the date it opened (December 19, 1903), as well as the Board of Bridges and the mayor of New York at the time (Seth Low).
The grafitti both delights and annoys me. I assume it was kept in this condition as a kind of marker of the neglect the bridge received for so many years, which I appreciate. It is a bit like the rectangle of still dirty ceiling at Grand Central Station to demonstrate how extensive the restoration work was. It reminds me of my youth in NYC when it was dirty and crime ridden and in some ways desolate. I know I know, I'm one of the sickos that misses skeevy Times Square too. More on that another time.

The frustrating part is that of course, you can't read the damned plaque and the colors are just as jarring as the red walkway.

To be continued.....

Sunday Almost To The Park With John

As is usually the case with New York, we went from early spring straight into summer with near 90 degree weather today.

I was going to spend the day doing laundry but it was too good a day and after yesterday I needed to just do a kind of nothing, so to speak.

Here are pics of the walk a took. A shortened walk because I left with so much enthusiasm for the day that I left my wallet, and thus my ability to snack and water in the part, in my room.


Two more of the several Victorian mansions in my neighborhood. It really makes me happy knowing that they are still intact and in communities that want them. Not as elaborate as the one from my previous blog,but very beautiful.




A very interesting entrance. In need of TLC, these kinds of places make me wish I was rich.



These are the greatest sandals in the world. Kamiks. Incredibly comfortable and the next best thing to being barefoot. Got them out of storage yesterday and my feet are born again. That's my cane in there too.


The Brooklyn Museum, where I realized Mr. Wallet was sitting on my desk at home and it was time to turn back now or my hip and knee would make me suffer the consequences. That's my stupid finger just above the shooting fountain. It was glary and I haven't quite mastered the lense on my iPhone yet.

I then went down Eastern Parkway, back to my street.

You rarely see these old black glass and neon signs anymore in New York. They go back to the 30s. I was thrilled to see this on an otherwise unremarkable street. So nice to see a pharmacy in the city that isn't Duane Reade, CVS or Rite Aid.

I love Bay Windows and this row of apartment buildings charmed me. I also loved the small, very homey entrances. It felt almost storybookish to me.

After that I was getting tired from the heat and no water and indeed, my hip and knee were expressing their displeasure with me. So I went back home, rested a bit and got to some laundry eventually.

All in all, a good Sunday and a pleasant end to an all too short weekend.

By the way, this last episode of DOLLHOUSE, entitled "Haunted" was the best yet. Ok, that wasn't so by the way. But hey, its me.

Ground Zero

So...I'm re arranging my thoughts and am going to stop tipping in advance of what I'm going to write about because, well. I'd rather be able to change my mind. But I'm keeping the context of New York.

For the last few days and the next week I have been and will be working across the street from Ground Zero here.

I don't come down there much. I never really did before except when I had visitors or a temp job necessitated it. I've never really liked the area very much except for by the water where, if you have a view of the harbor it is quite beautiful. But since the attack I've been there twice. It's just too hard. Make that 4 times. I was down here a couple of times during the immediate aftermath. The stench of smoking steel, wood, asbestos and, well...human was intense, humbling and there are no words more for it.

This assignment has me here for the first time since 2002. I pass the construction site every day, twice a day. There are small monuments to our victimhood here which is just more incentive for me to never be down here.

There's been a lot of talk lately about the renaming of One WTC, from Freedom Tower to the current iteration. But as far as I'm concerned, what we call the building is totally fucking meaningless. That we are building again at all is the important part. The building is not something I'm crazy about, but I'm very pleased that the actual site of the old towers will be a park and waterfall markings of the tower footprints. I think its fitting and beautiful and frankly if any area needed some green space, its the Financial District.

Here's what gets me though. I do not need to see continual pictures of what happened. I don't need to see photographs on onlookers crying, holding eachother and otherwise appearing devastated and I suspect that those who traverse the streets and overpasses here, who have done for years before I have and for years afterwards don't have to either. We/They were there. We lived it, ate it and literally breathed it for a long time. We all here lost someone either 1st or 2nd person.

September 11, 2001 lives in us every day, ever hour and every minute we walk any street in this city, especially the streets below West 4th.

We do not need continual pick up truck reminders to 'never forget'. Fuck you asshole, I lived it, don't tell me what to remember and what not to remember. And we don't need to be scraping the wound open every morning we get off the Subway or PATH train to come to work here to see our faces plastered before us, tear-filled and horrified.

Some of us wake up in the middle of the night screaming still. Some of us still roll over in bed to the spot once occupied by a lover or spouse who was working that day, (be it in an office, a police car or a fire-suit) and try to caress them in the empty spot. Some of us see the flying bodies when we close our eyes for an afternoon nap.

Now admittedly that's not precisely my experience. My September 11th story is a somewhat twisted tale of a grandmother's death and being near one of the other sites and coming home to an immediate bomb scare. That's for another blog entry.

But the aftermath for me was clear. Though I lived on the opposite end of Manhattan then, the sky was still dark and the fear and anger and grief was still palpable. And I still live with friends whose losses were far deeper and more painful than my own.

We remember. For God's sake, We Remember.

My Home Town

New York is famous for being a city of reinvention. It is the embodiment of constant change. There is something about its inner core that abhors steadiness.

It's a magical thing about this town, but it is also its curse. From New Amsterdam to now, its been a city never settled.

About 20 years ago they tried to make a TV series out of the movie "The Four Seasons". In the opening sequence, the character is leaving the city. He looks around and we hear construction everywhere. He says

"Ahh New York...I love it......Call me when it's finished"

Of course he never gets that phone call.

Sooo....as I begin my series of lamentations on the loss of what makes New York New York, bear all that in mind.

Still, New York has more of what you find everywhere else; Kmart, Target, Disney etc., all swallowing up Sal & Carmine's, Schimmel and Sons, etc. So that's what I'm ranting on in the coming days and I invite you all to comment on the changes you see in your hometown that you don't care for.

It's Curmudgeon Time.