Uncategorized – Page 4 – Another Day at the Point

Today, I saw the Face of God

How beautiful! The idea of God is so beautiful and loving.

But I cannot say the same for his creation, man. How can we be totally so much the opposite!? We live life like it does not matter – Like a human life has no value at all and some people are willing to steal a life in a New York second.

But I now know God has a plan for us all.

Today, I cut class and was hanging out at the Prospect Ave EL train station. Just hanging & talking to the toll collector.
“Kid, why are you not in school?” he asks.
“oh, I’m just waiting for the next train to arrive.”

See everybody in PS-32 is talking about SUPER KOOL 223’s new tag. He painted it on the side of one of those new #5 train cars. The cops are really after him for what they call ‘graffiti.’ But this tag is supposed to be like no other tag riding the rails and I’m dying to see it!
I waited for, what felt like hours and still no tag. I’m getting tired! But as I’m getting ready to leave, the strangest thing happens!

This guy, tall skinny non-descript kind of guy – don’t know why I noticed him anyway – is standing at the edge of the platform. His toes are hanging off the edge.

Behind him is this strange dude. A short guy with dark eyes and shiny, almost oily, hair. You know the type that stands out on any train platform. I noticed that he was casing out the tall dude. Sure enough – as the tall, skinny guy leans out to see the train as it approaches, the short dude steals his wallet and – almost as if to say ‘gotcha’, leaves his mark by pushing the tall dude in front of the rushing train.

Wooosh!!!! Ratta tata tata!!! wooosh!!!

Holly shit! That was way too fast!

The train is an express, heading downtown, and it just barrels right thru the platform, non-stop as if it was running late for something. We all run out to the yellow-stripped, steel edge of the platform to see what’s left of him.

As we lean over, much to our amazement – the guy is just laying there face down! I can’t believe my eyes! Nothing happened to him! He landed in a deep, dirty pocket between the tracks, where all the wind-swept trash accumulates.

He stands up and just dusts the dirt off – as if nothing happened.

Today is truly an amazing day! Holy Fu%&! ‘didn’t get him!’
He has something to be thankful about – Today was not his day to die!

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Today I had a Dream…

Today I went down to the playground. Not St Mary’s park, it’s a battlefield between rival gangs and a drug haven, just the school playground. You know, the one around the corner where even the weeds have a hard time staying alive. As I walk there, I recalled the dream (MOV – Video Link) I had last night. I dreamt that the park was surrounded by low-cut grass – as far as the eye can fathom. I dreamt that the swing set would actually work & that the basketball court would not be covered in shards of glass & bullet shells. I also dreamt that one day this would be real.

When I get there I feel the humid and stale smelling air that surrounds the playground. The bum laying next to the gate stopped me from entering, not physically, but just from his presence. What’s the point anyway – I convince myself – no one to play with.

So I decided to head over to the Prospect Ave train station. I walked several long, dark blocks just wondering around. Walking under the shadow of the Westchester Ave EL staring to the top of the buildings, to see which one actually had it’s top up in the light. The dark, chaotic street with the blaring banners, that provided the only lights; and the blaring horns, that provide the life of the street; had a few scattered buildings that survive the chaos. These blocks,with the broken-brick facades, broke up the long blocks where tumbled-down building and empty lots loomed.

The dark streets do not get a ray of sun cutting thru. The only ray of sunshine is my destination. The tiny, red-bricked hole-in-the-wall novelty shop with the screaming yellow sign. This shop, where even just two persons standing makes the place look packed, was craving for attention. They changed the merchandise to see who will respond, who will keep them alive.

Lucky for me, they started carrying those new miniature, hot wheel toy cars with the bright red paint job, crazy header pipes and the big, exaggerated rear wheels.

I spent the afternoon hiding out there, living a new found dream.

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Our Fishing Hole

Hunts Point is the only place in the So Bronx that, despite it’s reputation, feels safe. During the day, at the point, forklifts move everything around; trucks haul by with their full loads; trains scream by with their deadlines, but everybody has a job to do and no one is willing to jeopardize that for anything or anybody.

By night the streetwalkers of the Point come out to work; the Homeless come out looking for a dark corner to call home; and the johns come looking for comfort. Each doing their own thing, none looking for trouble.

Maybe because of its anonymity or maybe because of the I-don’t-have-time-to-give-a-shit atmosphere, this place is not threatening to me.

Or maybe because it is the one place where my brother and I can go fishing. The other day we were there while a guy caught an eel. He kept yelling “I caught an eeeeeel!” I saw an innocence in his eyes – as if it was the first time he’s caught anything.

Usually while my mother does her early morning “Farmer’s Market” shopping, we go to the dock. As we are waiting for the fish to bite, we talk about nothing and everything. We watch the waves crash against the pilings and the sound it makes is the most soothing sound I’ve ever heard. The water of the Hudson is filthy and has a terrible stench. We would not dare keep the fish we caught – we knew better – but there is something about fishing on the pier that gives me hope…

Maybe we are just normal kids in spite of our circumstances.

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