I'm going to start this little chapter, but it may be odd because it may just be groupings of words. Little scenes or remembered feelings that I had. How did this start? Well, it started with the sister of the hippie god, before the hippie god. There were some school trips into "the city." The city is what us Long Islanders called Manhattan. Queens was basically Long Island at the time and Brooklyn was more like the Bronx at the time. Well, we looked out the bus window and said "Hey!!! That's cool!!!" We conspired to start taking the LIRR and subway to the Lower East Side.
So, we walked around and checked out the sights. We also brought along another fledgling teenage Catholic School girl. At the time, they had more balls than I did. They actually went into doorways with drug dealers to buy pot. I just stood outside looking around. We were never ripped off and no one ever bothered us. People did talk to us on the street. Believe it or not, many New Yorkers hanging out were ready for a conversation about the state of the world or maybe even the meaning of it all. Many were tripped out.
The other two didn't want to go as much as I did, so I started going in by myself. That was even better. No unnecessary yapping. I got on those dirty old trains and leaned my head against the dirty old window. I thought about how disgusting everything was. It was so wonderfully crappy. No pretense. No fakery.
When I passed the Forest Hills station, I always thought about those two good kids from there. I wore my pea coat and I'd get especially thoughtful and even morose. I'd wonder what the future held for all of us. Existentialist stuff. Hold onto my individualism. It's all the differences that make it a good life. I had no intention of conforming. We all do to a certain extent, but I've held out as much as I could.
Yes. I loved the heavy rock n' roll, but I liked the grittiness these soft spoken fellas put into their work also. I know some people have a gag reflex to this, but listen to "The Boxer." This kind of search sent me into the city. People were living hard lives. That gives you more of an insight into the true nature of things. And I'm telling you, those movies depicting what a craphole New York was at the time were not exaggerating. There was desperation and searching everywhere you turned.
I walked around by myself. I sat in parks and watched people. There were a lot of parks. I'd stop into thrift stores and talk to weird people. I don't remember eating? Is that why everyone was so much skinnier? I looked in awe at hippies hanging out. Like any city, there were people singing or shouting poetry.
But then I decided to move my exploration a bit north. You know, I honestly wouldn't be able to remember how to get around now. The subways are pretty easy, or at least they were. Sorry, I'm going to say this... it seems as though when they change things now it just fucks things up. Check out the old shopping centers, you pulled into the parking lot. That's it. Now, you pull in and have to drive around in friggin' circles to get where you're going.
So, I moved on up to Central Park. A little nature. A lot of bridges. A variety of people. Pretty big area. Metropolitan Museum of Art. Spent a lot of time there.
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