This article heralds a change in my life - i've moved again. After more than two years in Jersey City, i spent a month vacationing and visiting family before i landed in...Yonkers!
Yonkers?
Sounds like something Shaggy should be saying to Scoob.
The prospect of writing this post has bored me a bit, reflecting a gradual change in my writing, away from "this is my life" fare, to more entertainment and social commentary. I still plan on offering intense self-revelation, but more and more i need that to be in a larger context (though to a certain extent, it's always been so, as such honesty is itself a bit revolutionary). And too, i view my scribblings as something that might be more understandable to people a century or three from now...the words of a time traveler, plunked into humanity's inhumanest hour. I feel the historian's need to document, often in very simple ways, so any change i'm making won't be conspicuous. Just more selectivity in what i deem interesting enough to share.
So...why would anyone leave the birthplace of Kool & the Gang? To vacate my room for the aged, infirm parents of my housemate, who were moving here from India. But i'd had one foot out the door for a good while - i started my new room search many months back. There were wonderful things about my last home. I had a beautiful three-room basement apartment (with 5000" TV), and my housemate and i shared many philosophies (plus a love of sci fi). But i lived there as a rent-reduced or rent-free caretaker, so i was never completely "off-duty" (a needed state of mind in one's own home). I never knew when a shout from my housemate/landlord Joe might come from the first floor. He did his best to minimize that...but too, there is a slightly imperious quality in Joe's personality. For example, he once shouted down that he wanted to borrow my alarm clock. Instead of coming to get it, he waited for me to bring it up. He had the capacity to treat me like a menial, and an angry side. It seems a little unfair to trudge that up, as that particular facet of him only came out two or three times ever...and at least once, he apologized. But you can understand how all these things made for a general, mild oppressiveness. I love Joe, and because of that, i'd known for a while that the best thing i could do was to move out. I'm optimistic that our friendship will be the better for it.
So on to...zoinks! Yonkers!
Where the hell is Yonkers?? I'd lived in NY eight years, and had only a vague idea. Where's Neil Simon when you need him? By funny coincidence, i visited Yonkers for the first time two months ago, to meet two old friends who were passing through. After a dinner that cost what i make in a month, my post-midnight bike journey home via the George Washington Bridge was unforgettable (i almost wrote about it - guess why i didn't?).
I never imagined i'd land this far from midtown Manhattan - by subway, bus, and foot, it takes an hour or more. But i knew that finding a place wasn't going to be easy...minimal rent plus a "right" feeling are hard enough to find, then add to that the fact that i'm probably moving this winter. Nothing's definite, but as soon as i finish one more NY project, i'll be ready to depart.
A part of me thought it was cool that i'd be adding the Bronx to my list of homes, leaving Staten as the only borough i'd never hung my hat (one week with Evan in Manhattan is a stretch, but i did technically have all my possessions with me). That thought was doused when i realized i'd shot past the Bronx, right into Westchester.
The Craigslist ad invoked a similar situation to my old one - reduced rent in exchange for caretaking, handiwork, and driving. I made the trek largely because the woman who posted the ad called the unboughtsoul link i sent "awesome". My concerns about them becoming overly reliant on me disappeared when i realized how many people are here. It's a bit like a hippie U.N. An enormous victorian house, with so many boarders i haven't even met them all. When i first entered the neighborhood, it felt like the soulless suburbs that spawned me...but happily, just a few blocks away the ethnic situation gets more pigmented and low-income. I live right off Broadway (the very same), yet not many urbanites know this Broadway, in the land where numbered cross streets end. For those of you of whom this means something, think B'way & 280th. The landlord, Karl, had a debilitating stroke years ago. The landlady, Daisy, is the den mother. She grew up on a plantation in the Philippines where the "mine/yours" boundary was more than a little blurred.
My testosterone has been spiking, with the abundant estrogen hereabouts.
There's A, a german fashion intern. She's open and fun. We're not each other's type...but if she were determined to have an american affair before returning home, i'd do my best to make her happy.
There's M, a chinese international lawyer. I met her on my scouting visit. She was dripping wet, wearing glasses and a towel. I must have gone into sensory overload, as i wasn't even sure it was her the next time we met. Or maybe shyness plus desire lowered my IQ. She's fun and outgoing. With a tiny bit of encouragement (or none at all), i might develop a fine crush.
There's another A, a quiet american. There was a small spark between us, and i think she may have looked toward my room before she went to bed the other night, not knowing i could see her. She looked like she didn't want to be alone.
There's ?, the most downbeat tenant. Her energy is positively life-sucking (did i just coin a new oxymoron?). She's a walking cliche, unable to get over her husband leaving her for another woman. The part of me that wants to love everyone imagines giving her sexual healing...but there's some serious darkness there, so i'm a little relieved she's shown no interest in me.
And there's H, a chinese student who lives in the room next to mine. She arrived in the states the night before i got here. She's young, and thrown into a world where everything (including the language) is alien. I told her i would find her and bring her home, if she ever got lost. She's sweet and desirable, and on my second night, i discovered a crack in our wall that allows me to look into her room. Given the testosterone coursing through me, do you think i was able to resist? The hole's so small i couldn't see anything bigger than a sandwich. Then i found out that she asked the landlady to replace or fix her blinds, as she was worried about someone seeing her from the street. I immediately felt so sad for her. Here i am, so comfortable with myself i walk around naked with the windows wide open...and here she is, living in loneliness and fear. At least we've got the loneliness in common...and the sense of being in an alien world (come to think of it, we may have more in common than i thought). In a faintly ironic turn, the landlady asked me to fix H's blinds. On my side of the wall, i taped over the crack, and i'll look out for her (in the other sense) as best i can.
Postscript: Two nights later, i ponder the thought of whether i taped the crack in part because it could lead to some reality in which H and i are lovers (or make her cling to me more once we are). There's a little "yes" in there somewhere. At the time, that wasn't any conscious part of my intention, but...this society forces us all to treat sex and love as a predator treats food. I try to treat love with better motivations, but succeeding in that generally only leads to loneliness. There's irony there too, i'm sure.
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