in the shadow of two hospitals

I moved to Brooklyn five days ago. It's been a singular journey, with amazement and wonder along the way.
I left comfy Astoria after only seven months, somewhat reluctantly, because i didn't look forward to moving again so soon. I feel a little Astoria-cheated, not getting to spend a full warm season there. But there was also a measure of relief. Sal was the worst landlord i'd ever had, and though Kat was good company, it became clear early on that we weren't going to become too close, as she was never a good listener with me. The handful of times i tried to talk about anything personal and deep, she would quickly start babbling. Also, it had been a strain being cleaner than the others. I consider myself pretty easygoing, but Kat actually made me feel a little obsessive/compulsive. Doyoung I'll miss more. Helping her, taking care of her from time to time, made me happy. I was sometimes surprised at how she was able to open herself. If she weren't so superficial and Christian, i probably would have told her how i wanted to hold her.
The move itself couldn't have been more smooth. I hired Shin, the man with a van whom Doyoung used two weeks ago. I assisted on that move. I don't know whether he works with non-Koreans often, but he was a delight. Shin was a little concerned that i might have to leave some furniture behind, but no! My new room, on St. Marks Ave. in Crown Heights near the Utica stop on the AC line, is a bit of a delight. I have mice, but traps will be employed until our kitty, Suzie, is older. She's only four weeks, and has been cut off from cat contact since her mother abandoned the litter two weeks ago. She's taken to me, and i'm determined that her growth won't be stunted by lack of love. Last night i made dinner, and she slept between my legs as i ate. So precious and tiny.
The room was a last-minute compromise (but then one should never be reluctant to embrace an "imperfect" choice, in terms of spiritual growth). It was a tiny bit more expensive than i wanted, and a bit far from Manhattan, in terms of biking. My sense of the neighborhood was that i'd not find any coffee shops or falafel places or soy products, and that i'd have to escort any female guests to and from the subway at night. The neighborhood feels like it hasn't changed in thirty years. It seems obvious to say that you're never so genuinely aware of your skin color until you're in an environment where no one looks like you. On my first walk-through, i saw not a single non-black person. I've lived in diverse neighborhoods, but the only other time in my life i've felt so aware of my skin was when i traveled in parts of China where whiteys don't go. Mind you, i don't generally perceive people in terms of skin. I was worried for a moment that i might be doing so, but then i realized that it didn't hit me until i'd already moved here, that in my last two households i've been the only whitey, among Asians and now blacks. So skin is not foremost in my thoughts when interacting with humans.
I've had the minor sense that i might not live here a long time, but i know i'll be glad i did. One of the things that sold me on the neighborhood was that people seemed happy. Two of the times i've stopped for directions have led to ten-minute conversations. Cultural differences are fascinating though, and it doesn't make one a racist to find them funny. I think there was a comedian who commented on black neighborhoods having the highest per capita incidence of two things: churches and hair salons. That, my friends, is nooo comedic exaggeration. The funniest moment i've had so far came biking home one night. When i bike, i sometimes get a funny phrase in my mind, and amuse myself by saying it out loud, over and over. Something like "No, they're people", or "You're a weird guy, Ace!" There are billboards around the city for one Creflo Dollar, and whatever brand of religion he's selling. Now, Creflo Dollar is a funny name. On this ride through my neighborhood, i kept repeating "Creflooooo Dollah!" At one point, an obviously sassy young black lass heard me. Her eyes bugged a bit at the white boy irreverantly invoking a black holy man, but she then gave out one of the earthiest guffaws i've heard in a while.
My room itself is...i guess palatial is the word, being about as large as my previous two rooms combined. I have two big windows, which look out on trees in the back yard (which will be nice for the hours i spend here writing to you). My non-feline housemates are Shelly and her two children, recently arrived from Grenada. Shelly is very sweet and accomodating, and her only character flaw seems to be a little religious fundamentalism; it's quite amusing that there was one picture left up in my room when i moved in, of a Barry Gibb-looking Jesus, and Mary. I've left it untouched, but may need to put an Asian or black woman's face over Jesus's, at some point. Melissa is eleven, and very special. She's smart and writes poetry, some of which she has shared. I think she has a little crush on me. The youngest is Tarlick, all of three. He's a pip, and has taken very strongly to me. Shelly says that his Dad overindulged him, so he has discipline problems. I've been establishing boundaries, and getting him to hold the kitten more gently. Shelly says she can see a difference in him after only five days.
The biking-distance objection seems perhaps not to pertain! I've been biking regularly, and the times have been shorter than expected. It's always a fun adventure to not know how to get where you're going (in this case, Manhattan), and have to rely on directions from people on the street. I thought i had been on all the East River bridges, but my first trip over the Manhattan Bridge revealed that i most certainly had not. It was amazing. I don't want to take anything away from the Brooklyn Bridge, but the Manhattan seems just a little higher, and you're only separated from the drop by a thin chain link fence. The architecture is quite arresting too. Arrived on the other side for the first time, two pigeons came from behind me, one after another, and almost landed on my head. I could feel the beat of their wings, and i'm sure the passerby were entertained by my manly shriek. Earlier that day, my first in my new home, i had opened my window and had my closest-ever encounter with an adult squirrel, just a couple feet away. He kept moving closer, looking me in the eye, until i closed the window. A very Wild Kingdom day.
Strangely, i'm again living in the shadow of a hospital. It was Mt. Sinai in Queens, and here it's an abandoned hospital across the street. It's not an old building, which makes it a little eerie. Very curious. I'd love to get in there to explore.
I love you all.