Now that the Polar Vortex has finally released its icy grip from the Big Apple’s throat, Just keep in mind this little prose/poem when the summer temps hit the high 90s and New York City becomes the Big Apple Fried Fritters.
Brooklyn Ice Berg
Gotham a frozen Wasteland bordered by filthy fallen ice bergs lining alternate side of the street parking. Flesh flayed by snow ice razors slashing any exposed skin, pummeling Eskimo hide thick coats, sweaters, thermals, socks, boots, hats, gloves. Dagger driven Stalactites and stalagmites primed to guillotine busy commuters racing whipping winds hindering purposeful movement.
Sidewalk streets concealing threatening black ice ready to break bones. Genteel timid Silly Walks a narrow twisted slow motion dance around and over snow removal made dirt mountains. Empty blizzard sleet filled neighborhoods with only a few Yetis braving truly Abominable Old Man Winter.
Art is both a window into the past and a portal to the future. But tourist cellphone camera incessant obsessed picture taking visitors to the House of Order and Learning neither see the beauty before them or view slices of history, science, fashion, politics, sociology, economics or religious passion plays of life being acted out in single snatches of time.
The suffer from blindness of the soul and spirit that no oculist can cure.
They Refuse to Drink from the Well of Wisdom or eat fruit from the Tree of Knowledge for fear that their eyes may be opened and the Wall of Delusions collapse into Dust.
Seeking to capture personal notoriety, authority and fame vicariously through corruption camera filter brutish minds unchanged and unchallenged by purity of mind and purpose.
Forever caught in the spider web of Tourist Trap Disneyland manufactured Coney Island Barkerville of Samsara sitting at the feast yet unwilling to eat or absorb life giving mind expanding sustenance settling instead for bitter crumbs ejected from dated tour books.
Get a life Mr. or Ms. Heeby-Jeeby and leave Cat alone. Cyber-Bullying is a crime and if you don’t stop We (Cat and I are a Team) will report you to the powers in charge of WordPress!! This is a Cease and Desist Order!! Stop Now!!
Please tell me if you’ve had encounters with Crusty the Clown and his cousin Bob the Boring. What is this aversion guys have to soap, water, bathing, showering, brushing teeth and using deodorant and Lotion!! Do men really feel more manly if they stink, have yellow teeth, and hands like they were wrangling bricks! Especially for men past the half century mark did you somewhere along the line begin to think that body odor and bad breath were a turn-on to women? Baldness is okay. Like most women I realize that most men past 50 have or are starting to lose their hair, however if you do have hair please know that dandruff is unacceptable. Unless it is snowing outside there should not be flakes on your clothing. Buy some shampoo and use it!
And oh yes, it you expect us to be in shape and healthy then do some exercise, lose that pot belly that looks like you’re about to birth an alien being and stop smoking. Most Ladies are not trying to get with the Pillsbury Dough-boy! Shaving is a good thing too, other than mustaches I don’t date men with overactive face follicles. While you’re purchasing the soap, deodorant, and toothpaste please toss some razors into your shopping basket. Not trying to date the Smith Brothers or ZZ Top!!
Oh yes get your conversation together. No woman wants to spend time with a guy who has nothing to say. Mumbling and Cave Man grunts do not make for intelligent dialogue. Maybe take a few Toastmasters courses or public speaking classes. It’ll help. Thank you!
When I was a little girl during the 1960s my mother had a love affair with Better Homes & Gardens and House Beautiful magazines. However try as she might and my Mom was an excellent decorator (I believe she missed her calling) with two kids, a husband who smoked and various dogs our house was never as clean or as orderly as those pictured in the magazines. Periodically my 4’11” 95 lb mother would move those big heavy 1950s furniture from one end of the living room to the next causing my father great consternation when he tripped over tables or chairs that seemed to magically appear usually around Midnight when he got home from his late shift.
Though the houses and rooms were beautiful, they were only beautiful in an anti-septic, unlived in way. Pure white living rooms untouched by jumping muddy dogs, kids with drippy Popsicles, or cans of Rheingold and Schaefer beer cans making little rings on the end tables.
Everything is arranged, after all those pictures are photo shoots put together for maximum impact to the readers. Kitchens where nary a fried chicken or pork chop popped grease or soup boiled over. No cans of Crisco sitting on the counter-top. No spilled glasses of Kool-Aid, Orange Crush, Coca-Cola or Pepsi.
No smells of fish and chittlin’s being cleaned or bugs flying in from the holes in the ratty screens we put in the windows during the summer because we had no air conditioning. The pop and sizzle of the steel straightening comb being pulled through my Ultra Sheen saturated nappy kinky hair on a Saturday night in preparation for Sunday school in the morning.
Too perfect and we all know that life is not perfect. I like furniture to have character. Those little cracks, dents and chips give an openness and appeal that utter perfection cannot rival.
18th Century Masonic ChairPerfect sterile Kitchen
My family’s lives were not perfect. We were and are real people with real lives. Nothing is staged. My mother was a functioning schizophrenic alcoholic, my Dad was in a job that he found not fulfilling, my brother was born with Autism, I’ve battled depression since my teen years. No there are no picture perfect lives here. But now I’m no longer afraid or ashamed of my battle scars. I wear them proudly. I’ll take the nitty-gritty, those who society has deemed damaged goods, the unloved, the unwanted, the back alleys and the under belly of the business district at night, inner-city over Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous any day. I’m Blessed to be a Broken Angel.
Broken Angel
As for disability Jesus said it best, John 21:18
Common English Bible (CEB)
18 I assure you that when you were younger you tied your own belt and walked around wherever you wanted. When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and another will tie your belt and lead you where you don’t want to go.”
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 