Milk and Honey


What I love about this city, this country too, is that some of us will never get what we want. You remember this. Perhaps you get into a brutal discussion about Old Man History, your grandfather swaying prophetically in his rocking chair, possibly something he carved and built just for an occasion such as this. You complain of the lunch at your school. He spits back with a heart-bleeding tale of how he had to walk fifteen miles to a small poorly-heated dilapidated schoolhouse, in the dirt roads… no sidewalks… every fucking morning! You never win. Your grandfather never won. The spun thread of this obnoxious web spans out even farther.

Democracy, in general, guarantees that someone will lose. The greater good depends on the majority, even if you’re not one of them. Blacks and white. Men and women. Such “opposites” duking it out, suffering hits and misses, over and over in a dance over what? Rights! Freedoms! Some of us are entitled! Some of us deserve better attention! The media is so fervent in its need to solicit information that while our news is delivered in more impressive and attention-seeking ways, the basic undercurrents of facts and history in this country are the same currents that flowed through generations before us. That is probably why we remain conservative, properly WASP, and a bit ignorant. We’re told other countries are in far dire shape, with famines and genocide and AIDS and extended periods of war. We suffer too, from many things, but it doesnt seem as significant or as horrific as anyone else. GOD! Why aren’t we giving more? Because of “The Man”, suppressing my wallets, suppressing my thoughts!


I dont like being poor in New York City. I feel reckless for my years passed, when I thought I could only dream of necessary things in a city so rich with access and opportunity. Yes, while the island of luxury seems to be the most expensive place on earth, it also offers glimpses of hope. It may not be what you want, but that’s the exciting part of it. Lands of milk and honey do not offer up spoons, napkins, or other components like cookies and toast. Manhattan has already chosen its style, so I need to make something of my barings. I need to tap through its proverbial crocus just deep enough for the things I’ve wanted since I moved here. And in this city, if you’re willing to get smart and tough and a bit yuppie-ish, then you can pretty much afford a place to yourself, some nice furniture, a chance to eat out once a while at an expensive place.

I like reading Hammacher & Schlammer catalogues when I’m stoned. These gadgets seem born out of pure fantastic fiction in my mind! Now, for 80 bucks and up, I could own a canoe with a transparent bottom, an alarm clock that flies above my head, and the plastic Elvis with the evil red eyes. It’s a bust of Elvis Presley, who can speak to you and sing you his songs. A robot of the king, soulless and immortalized in a chunk of plastic. No, I’d prefer the life-sized R2D2!! I mean, jeez, that thing is fucking bangin’! I would have it follow me around all the time, bleeping and blinking in an agreeable way to everything that I say.

God! Consumerism is the air we breathe. It clicked long ago. Why should I wait so long to get what I want? A place to myself? Go back to school? Pfft. I’m a smart cookie. It’s out there for me to take. I should grab it. So, I’m shifting perspectives, with more ambitious intentions, and primal afterthoughts.

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