lex bet 26th & 27th: the wall: in my experience, there are very few things that can make a new yorker stop dead in their tracks right in the middle of an ever-moving sidewalk. vendors, though more frequently, bootleggers, for one, with their shoddily-recorded versions of pop hits and blockbuster films, their sunglasses and watches, their $1 underwear. even then, there are still people trying to get buy, weaving their way through the traffic while still taking a moment to sneer at the bootlegger and his clientele.
what i saw today on lexington avenue between 26th & 27th street was quite a different thing entirely. it was almost as if they were lined up -- it was like the scene on 34th st. around christmas when people assemble to peer into the windows of macy's, to see what they've cooked up this year for the holidays, with the exception, and a notable one it is, that those people are frequently tourists. what we had here were true-blue new yorkers, dyed-in-the-wool manhattanites.
it's called "the wall of hope" ("la pared de la esperanza") and it was much like the scene i described the other day -- walls papered with human faces and descriptions ("5 foot 6," "last seen in tower 2," "please contact..."). certain flyers caught my eye and broke my heart more than others, like the flyer by a little boy bearing the title: "please help us find my daddy." there were drawings by children of the world trade center and there were cards and candles and shrines. we all walked by, taking a look at each face -- have we seen any of these people? in what capacity would we have seen them? and yet that didn't deter us. a wall, one that seemed like nothing so much as an extension of a wall in washington, d.c., the vietnam memorial. there the names are etched into stone, here the faces are carved into concrete -- both indeliby burned into our consciousness and hearts. victims of a war that shouldn't have been; victims of a day that shouldn't have been. i only hope that neither will ever be again.
back to the music: capital idea! i want to point out michaelangelo matos's top 100 singles of the 80s, which is probably the best list i've ever seen for that particular decade. sure, the picks are all over the musical map, from country to reggae, punk to pop, but what's most impressive is, whether expected or obscure or surprising, is how great the majority of these choices are. i'm especially grateful for shedding light on songs you'd not see on any other list, songs that i'd not heard before, especially elbow bones and the racketeers' fabulous "a night in new york," a side project of august darnell aka dr. buzzard/kid creole himself. i've described it as "cherchez la femme" resituated on park avenue on a lavish autumn evening, and i'll stand by that. good show, matos.
i am going to be sick. my eyes are boiling within the cauldrons of their sockets as tears race to put out the fire. the reason i feel like this can be summed up by the following google query: http://google.yahoo.com/bin/query?p=wtc%2bvideo%2bpeople%2bjumping&hc=0&hs=0
united we stand: today, i went out for a walk during lunch. when i hit 5th avenue, yes, i couldn't help but look down -- looking down the straightaway where i used to look up to see the world trade center. now i can see the rubble, i can see what we are all seeing on television, the skeletal shell of what was once a trade tower, which one it's now impossible to tell.
my eyes returned to my surroundings, and there were flags on buildings, flags on car antennas, flags in storefronts. gentlemen who'd normally be selling umbrellas in a rain storm were now selling flags (their wet dream: a FLAG UMBRELLA, mmmmm.) sometimes, there are slogans that go with those flags: "God bless america," is quite popular, as is "united we stand."
i was going to burger king: when one leaves the office, they can go north or south, and which ever way they go, they'll eventually reach burger king. today, having had enough of the burger king on 23rd st. and their, what they have the unmitigated gall to call "service," i turned uptown. immersed in the red, white & blue, i couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the two routes: from 24th to 26th st. on park ave. south, the buildings are plastered with flyers featuring pictures of the missing and tokens of grieving and mourning. it was a heartwrenching scene to think that, and i hate to be pessimistic, all of these people are likely dead. hope can be easily seen within each pixel, each letter, and between every line and it was just unbearable. i could only imagine the scene grew more desperate and more tragic the closer one got to ground zero...
...and meanwhile, back on 30th street, i'm looking at a window with a crude reproduction of the twin towers, over which the slogan "united we stand" is boldly emblazoned. i'm thinking, why do i find this so vulgar? if it was the image of a dead human with a similar proclamation of strength, i wouldn't be bothered (say, martin luther king, jr. with the phrase, "you can kill the man, but not his dream.") the "united we stand" poster seems to be asserting, "ha ha ha, you may destroy our building, but we can always rebuild it. you can't beat US (or, even, the U.S.)" meanwhile, it seems to forget that, like mlk jr., the people who were killed in the building can never be rebuilt, will never return. it's exactly the kind of jingoism seen in e-mail chain letters like, "wear red, white & blue today!" on the national day of mourning, akin to wearing your easter bonnet with all the frills upon it to good friday mass. it's seen in the attitudes of people whose lives were largely unaffected by the tragedy and their desire to rain terror on all of those a-rabs.
if this were a short story, i'd conclude it by saying i turned around right then and there and headed in the opposite direction, back towards ground zero where people know the ethics of grief. but i didn't, and even if it were fictional, it still wouldn't ring true. i shook my head...well, no, i didn't even shake my head. i just kept on towards my destination: if i'm not going to let the terrorists rob me of my sense of normalcy, i'm not going to let those with a surfeit of patriotism do it either. now give me a whopper meal plain to go.
vain, selfish
& lazy is true to its name and its creator, fred solinger, aged 24. thin but wiry, he is an off-and-on ultimate fighter. he maintains his residence in new jersey. contact me.