Lesson?

I just wanted to tell everyone that since last night I find myself furious at the prospect of some punk college kid from the middle of nowhere gaining all this fame from spending 41 hours in a Walmart. His name is Skyler Bartels and he is all over the internet. Everywhere! Apparently he attempted to spend the week of his spring break in a 24 hour Walmart. He only made it 41 hours but the Des Moines Register wrote an article about his endeavor. You can tell not much goes on in that city if this is News. Well because of the article he has been on NPR, Good Morning America, David Letterman and is being offered a movie and a book deal. Well four years ago a guy I know through my brother, Marc Dixon, spent 49 hours in a Walmart. He wrote about it in a Zine and on a website. Marcs action inspired many. He inspired my brother to spend two weeks in a kitchen with three other artists studying the effects of confinement on creativity, (I find that interesting from the point of view of a prisoners artwork). Marc inspired my friend Brian and I to spend 24 hours straight on the NYC subway system. You would be surprised how easy it was, how enteraining and how quickly we adapted to sleeping on subway seats. Well I mad from the two points of view, that Skyler Bartels is praised as having such an original idea, when Marc did it more then four years ago and more insightfull and sophisticated. I am also think how mad I would be if some on spent 24 hours on the subway is being offered a book and movie deal for this. Also where is Skylers account of his 41 hours? Everything I have seen written is by the Des Moines Register or the Associated Press

One year later Born in Brooklyn

Wow, I have not posted in over 10 1/2 months. Exactly one year ago I was lamenting about my brothers blog being better than my blog. In the past ten and half months. I found out I was pregnant. You know I may have thought I was pregnant when I last posted but for some reason did not seem it more relevant than the noise in union square. I remember that day. I was looking for a couch and waiting for Ralph to get off work. I bought some girl scout cookies and hid in movie theater.

Well right now my six month old son Felix is asleep in the other room. Between may and august I went through a relatively normal pregnancy. But then in September my blood pressure rose and Felix was delivered early . He spent four months in the hospital recovering from his early delivery. He is relatively fine except for some breathing issues which should clear up in time. He is my first generation Brooklynite. Born in Brooklyn.

Noice

Yesterday I went to Union Square in Manhattan in an effort to look at some sofas in a furniture store, and run in to some chaos. Whole portions of the streets were blocked and men in hard hats were tearing up the concrete with large powerful drills. Yellow cranes were stretching above these men scooping up shards of concrete and droping the shards into towering piles. Trucks, buses, cabs and SUVs were honking and seething. As if the cranes and men were going to clear away the piles just so the vehicles could get past. Meanwhile pedestrians with pained looks on there faces were trying to cross the streets and meneuver each other on the too small side walks. The noice and stress was so much I had to take refuge in a movie theater to get away. I saw a very good movie called 'Crash'.

On my way back to Brooklyn I was thinking about the reasons why Brooklyn is better. Well the noice and chaos is definitly less but also in Union Square I was noticing that the rich people are just so rich and beautiful and the poor people are so decrepid and ugly. In Brooklyn people seem to travel more of a middle road.

The crazier the better

I love crazy kids. The crazier the better. This morning I met crazy little Lucy at the Brooklyn Kiddie State Hospital. She was transported by ambulance, from a hospital in Long Island, strapped to a guerney.

I never knew this hospital existed. I had gone down Ralph and turned right on Bergan so many times, on my way to the Kingsbourough projects. But never have I turned left and looked beyond the large mental gates.

Today I walked beyond those metal gates and saw a lovely campus with a pool and an excercise room. Life seems so pleasant there, in the middle of Bed Sty, surrounded by government housing, fast food and funeral homes, sits a pleasant spot for minority children with diagnoses and drug regeimes (sp?) in which all you sheltered white suburbanites can not fathom.

Fishing in Coney Island

Today I had a plans to go fishing in Coney Island. My friend K- was discharged from the nut hatch where she spent two weeks because of some sort of paranoid psychotic break. First she wanted to hang out then she changed her mind; then she changed her mind back. She left a message 'lets go for a walk. Lets go fishing or is that too suburban for you?' Huh? I want K to come to Brooklyn and I know alot of her Brooklyn experience is focused around drinking and we have to find other things because she no longer drinks. So I told her we can fish in Prospect park. The more I thought about it the more I realized fishing in a Prospect park, we may get yelled at by a Parks and Rec worker or even ticketed by a cop. But that long wooden pier at the end of the Boardwalk in Coney Island. People fish off that all the time! But my question is if I catch a fish can I eat it? But K ended up blowing me off. She had to babysit. What else is new?

My New York State of Mind

I think I may have developed the New York State of mind. Yesterday,
(and today) in Brooklyn, the weather was so rotton it made me want to admitt myself. At first I was going to say put a bullet in my head but that's not it, I simply want to admit myself.

The sky was purging itself over and over again from thick black grey clouds. I was walking down Flatbush ave to BAM Rose movie theaters. Because that seemed like the perfect depressing thing to do on depressing retchid weather day, go see a movie by myself. The strip of street in front of the BAM, to the right of that garden center, directly before I take a right on Laffayette, 12 umbrella corpses were scattered around. It was like an umbrella battle was fought and lost. The umbrellas thought they could fight the windy down pour but lost miserably.

I blaim those guys selling the $3 jobs on the sidewalks. If we want to prevent this just put out the money for the higher priced umbrellas and keep it moving. Because Brooklyn is n't Seattle. When it rains hear it pours. Some people would be suprised to know that in Seattle most people don't use umbrellas. When it rains there it is barely above a sprinkle. That is how residents can tell the tourists, by who has the umbrellas.

New York State of Mind

In Norwalk Hospital Psychiatric ward, my best friend currently sits. Coming, what ever it was that has come (I have researched on the internet but dont really know) she has caught or developed or grew, I cant say I saw it.
Though when I spend the time (believe me I have) I can pick about pieces of the last 25 years and say I saw it coming. It came on so fast but then it has been developing for a long time.

This (psychotic breaks) seems to be happening more and more often. We are fragile, fragile conflageration of cells. We as a society are falling about physically and mentally.

With Karen we can blaim in on many things but we can't blaim it on New York. When another friend of mine ended up in the nut house over a year ago the easiest target in that case was New York. Not the state. More like the New York State of Mind. When that young fellow was sprung loose from six weeks in the loony bin he was more determined then ever to stay in New York. But this determination waned and he started to hate this retchid cesspool

There is the long ago past. i.e growing up with an alcoholic father
There is the recent past. i.e breaking up with her boy friend who she lived with for 6 years.

To make the long story short last saturday she fell into a deep dark pool of paranoia.
Everybody was in on the plot. Her friends her family her coworkers were all plotting against her. Even the doctors (eye doctor) were violating her rights. It got me thinking that everybody has dipped there toes in the paranoia pool from time to time. I myself have but then forces of logic have pulled me out.
But last weekend Karen was full- on, full- body, skiny- dipping in the big black soupy pool of paranoia

Reality TV?

My Brother Blog, in his diatribe, asks a lot of questions. I dont believe, in 50 plus posting, I have asked one question. Its all been statements. And in Brother's third posting he questions 'why blog at all. Why do we feel the need to publish our inner most thoughts for all the world to see? Well I can tell you one thing, these are not my innermost thoughts. If you read my innermost thoughts your eyes might burn out of the socket.
Well let me ask a question. What is our current most vehement obsession? Reality TV. Everyday new titles are surfacing. Variations on titles. Sub variations on titles.
At some point everyone is going to have either worked for a reality show or been in a reality show.
The rest of us we have our blogs.

(ins) pirat (ion)?

Maybe a little more. Before I quit forever.

Yester I went to the NYCHA sponsored Kingsbourough Project at Ralph and Atlantic. A little side note the C line was supposedly destroyed for five years, a few short weeks ago but came back to life. Well I took the C line just for the bugs hit streets (see past posting for explaination (kids from school) . I could feel the tension on the subway and the streets, like the quiet before the storm. So once at Kingsbourough I walk to Leithas one bedroom on the first floor. She answers the door with out her teeth in. But otherwise she had eye shadow and her nails are curved into multi colored claws.
We sit down and talked about whether people can change. Do we believe people can change? I believe any one can, absolutley everyone except for abusive spouses.

On Saturday

On Saturday I went to..........

I just read Ians recent Blog entry and boy I can not compete. I give up. I have nothing to say. I am sorry to waste your time.
Please forgive me.

How is everything going with you Marc?

I am feeling uninspired.

I spent the last two days at my desk in a room with no windows. The heat was on in the building even though temperature out side had risen to a balmy 55 degrees. Not a good situation when what I am wearing is my long dead uncles old cashmire sweaters. I think I even started to smell alittle.
At three oclock everyday I would venture outside just to get the five minutes of sunlight to keep me from getting seasonal effective disorder, to get a cup o coffee and fight my way through the bugs buzzing around on the street. (kids coming home from school)

At night, I trudged down Flatbush avenue back home. So uninspiring.

I feel like maybe spring is coming. I can't wait for the buds on the trees that make everything look asian. But the weather guru said snow on sunday. So much for asian.

Good I was worried.

I was worried that you were reading this.

I thought only Noel reads this.

I have been leaving Brooklyn quite a bit lately. On Sunday I took the Long Island Rail Road, got on at the Flatbush ave station, to see Sister Margaret Williams, got off at Rockville center. Mag and her buddy Caritas. Caritas one of the last Nuns who wears a habit because it helps keep her from getting speeding tickets. Mag, Caritas and I went to a local greek diner and I witnessed the power of the habit. The owner came over to Caritas 'oh hello Sister, good to see you again Sister'. Mag gets a kick out of it. Though it does not push her to ever whip out the habit again. Maybe she just likes to know she a secret member of this club.
Back at Mag's apartment Mag asked me what a Blog was. I tried to log on to show her but could not even get on my own Blog. Maybe it is for the better because there may have been something imcriminating.

Today I spent the day in Staten Island, all day. Yuck!

A theme song?

Condeleeza Rice has a theme song that is part of the campaign for president for 2008. Huh?

Do you read this Marc?

Russia?

This week in Brooklyn the weather was going nuts. Up, down, chaos. -20 degree gusts of wind whipping large paper bags up two stories above the ground and then felt like they were going to pick the car up just like Dorathy in the movie. I thought to myself this must be what Siberia is like. Well this afternoon my credit card company called me at work. I answered the phone and a woman asked me 'Jessica, we were wondering have you made any charges in Russia recently? ' What I ask? Aparantly all week someone has been withdrawing money on my credit card all over Russia. Good thing is they are not going to make me pay for it. What do you know. I felt like I was in Russia while my credit card actually was.

Sheesh Noel

My post has nothing to do with your comments (or do they?).
Since my last post the weather has erupted into global chaos. The suposed advent has spring flipped the script on us and turned Brooklyn into a version of Siberia.
The day after the 70 degrees day Ivon, my co worker, wanted me to accompany her to the sea of project in Brownville for necessary 48 hour visit to a new case. Ivon has to balance her check book and call her cousin before we leave the office. After we leave we take the 4 train to get her car at Utica. The wind is wipping around us in medium size tornado's. Plastic bags of all sizes are flying by us. At one point the wind rattles the car almost like it is going to pick it up but it doesn't. Snow came down earlier that day. Aparantly the snow had become impacted on all hard surfaces. Not very good for Ivon and her high heal boots. Wind still wiping everywhere. We drive to the P J 's in Brownsville. Trying to find damn 230 Osborne or was it 270 Osborne or was it 280 Osborne. Well the long of the short of it is we never found it. Brownsville was hell that night. The couple minutes out side were painfull. Hell is not fire and heat. Hell is trying to find an adress you never been before in the Brownsville projects on a night of 10 below 50 mile per hour winds wipping garbage all around you, 8:00 at night and hungry to boot.
Ivon was wearing her high heal boots also.
Tonight Ivon roped me into the journey again. She knew exactly to go. We park and I hide my wallet in my bra.
I spend the next hour trying to entertain myself in a dumpy apartment with hoards of rugrats jumping about while Ivon interviewed the necesary adults and looked at the physical plant. I was able to organize the rugrats into an Americas next top model competition. Turns out Jaquan, the 11 year old boy loves to dress up in womans clothes.

Its sunny today

Yes it was. And I spent the day in Manhattan at the Institute of Audio Research. Why did I leave Brooklyn you ask. Well I do that every now and then. I try not too. But today I went to IAR open house with Ralph. Very interesting, everythings is done on computer now. The face of music recording has changed over the last two years.

Well since the City has become a novelity to me, somewhere I go every six weeks or so, I wanted to stay. So we did. We went around the to the parks and sat in the chilly sunlight. Yes it was.

Then later Back in Brooklyn. I graced the free night at the Brooklyn Museum of Art thinking I would see the Basquiat visit. No its not there. Six more days. I did see the archives on exibition. Oh Wow all different types of teapots and silverware sets. Art deco I guess.
But what I did see was a one woman play called 'the beautiful hills of Brooklyn'. The writer had found her great aunts journel writen 76- 78. The aunt was living in Flatbush, her memory fading away and the neighborhood was changing. ,

I can talk about brooklyn

Last night in Connecticut I took part in a conversation with a 33 year old man who told me he was born in Flatbush. I started to muse about the wonders of Flatbush over the last 50 years. I could see his eyes start to drift elsewhere. So I knew to stop. I just ended with I could talk about Brooklyn forever. He laughed.

Today on the way back from Connecticut I stoped by Central Park (not in brooklyn) to see The Gates. All I can say inane. isane.
I hope they recycle that orange safron
This would never happen in Brooklyn.

Exhausted

Today, the day after a slush storm, enboldened with four hours sleep, I traversed our beautiful bourough. First this morning I took the 3 train to Rockaway, across from Vandyke projects, a little building on Mother Gaston (who was she?). An hour or so over there and then back on the 3, transfered to the 2 train at Franklin, heard the infernal calypso singer (from thesubwaytrip fame) sing not 'when the saints go marching in' but 'three little birds', and chuckled. I then got off at church, walked about 25 blocks to my next destination near Kings County Hospital. By this time I was sick of walking over piles of melted snow and puddles of melted snow I want to go home.
So afterwards I got on the B52. Or was that the B54. I got off at the junction area, where the elevated J train and C train converge. There are about five bus lines that converge there also. I had a tuna salad in bag that needed eaten about that time. Where to eat it was the question. Because I don't like to eat on public transportation. It is like eating in the bathroom. There is a three story Mcdonalds with American Flags waving all over it. (about the onlything in the neighborhood bysides a check cashing place) The good news was I could not even bring myself to step in. Across the street, next to the check cashing place is a Dunkin Donuts. I took shelter from the wet and from the stink to eat my tuna salad.
After this, back on the B54 to Vermont and Liberty. About an hour or so there.
After this I walk to the C train. Did I tell you my pants are wet up to my kneees by now. Though I go underground now, out of the wet but not out of the stink, I take the the C to the F to the N. To Astoria. I emerge in a totally different bourough (Queens) and two hours later. About a half hour there and then.
Finished. AAARRRFFF

Mean

Did not mean to be mean.
"How many of ya'll seen Blue in the Face" I saw it last week and laughed till I was. I think I saw it many years ago and not appreachiated it at all. But now after living in Brooklyn For four years I could not stop laughing. It was directed by the wonderful Paul Auster. Who lives around the block from me.

Yeah its your fault noel.

Well I am back in Brooklyn. After visit my old friend Danielle in Seatle. Ralph came along.
We got a taste of the local everyday neighborhood life and a taste of the vast untouched wilderness and the lonely stretches of primative beaches.
And it all was thought provoking. After four years of living in Brooklyn how differ the city out there are. What I mean is the environmental conciousness, (sp?) the conservation. Living concously, (sp) not consuming. New Yorkers just dont give a fuck. They are too busy surviving. NYC had a recycling program but it was cut for budget reasons. It may have been reinstated but I dont know.

Even the street garbage cans have recycling bins in the North west.
After hearing that NYC has no recycling program Danielle fell into a blubbering fit of 'thats disgusting, that pathetic.' and I found myself defending New York telling her that recycling does not make sense.
But latter on when we were walking down a gorgeous strip of untouch coast line Ralph tossed his can of Fosters in it the waves. I burst out crying and swearing at him. I waded knee deep to get the can and made him swear on his life to never ever do that again.
Go figure.