My own private East Village

Aside from the few weeks when I was hired by the Federal Government, as part of their program to employ disadvantaged youth, during which I worked on a demolition crew tearing down fire damaged condemned buildings, my over ten years otherwise spent exclusively on the underground economy always serves to inspire me when the time is officially quantified in this document by the Federal Department of Taxation and Finance Social Security Administration. The precise glares from deeply blinding small ovals of white paper enframed by the numeral zero, no-things evasive like horizon, literally refer to the amounts of my governmentally untrackable income, and a wild, undomesticated life. As statistics, the zeros promote official ignorance about activities I undertook to generate money outside the scope of authoritarian approval and social respectability. The pleasureably complicit curvealinear marks exist here before the eyes as such a tangible material monument to real Liberty obtained yet through the centers of those zero marks swirls a vast blank from which flows metaphysical expression of source where all freedom originates and resides. One thing that comes to my mind, especially these days, when I gaze at this excremental dust mote from the government datacloud, is how for ten years nothing I did enabled the government to extract any money from me to pay for building bombs and dropping them on people. When periodically mailed this mute totem of my total escape from the deathculture, I become hushed, placid and reverentially thankful about never having really been allowed in by The White Order.

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at dawn
Mercury passes before the Sun
seen from Avenue C
shadow coughed by microscopic permanence
no more outer space on surface of time
ancient as how a black cat crosses the street.
chance, mortal.
comprehension aspires upon void.
silent immense motion what
may be understood from
being within
sight. now lifted
away from everything Earthly,
abandoned tantalized sense
empty quiet
morning radiates upon street.

I live in simplicity, tranquil and innocent,
free from compulsion to infringe
the freedom of others.
I shed my dignity in order to manifest grace.
So complain about the way I live
but refuse to offer me paradise
so you can display
the class origins behind your objectivity.


Por qué usted no baja adentro a la calle
y vea cómo es carinoso lo hemos hecho para usted ?

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The spirits of the zona are many, but none more purposefully mischievous than the late Rev. Pedro Pietri......


telephone booth poem
number 73237 by Reverend Pedro Pietri

fuck the circus
i get my rocks off
seeing people going
to work in the morning
on my way to the bar!

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HA !
What a marketing conceit.
Only in NYC would ecological consciousness and real estate be combined as fatuous, exorbitantly expensive status symbol.

It has nothing to do with the Lower East Side but everything to do with how exaggerated and distorted the city in general is.

How does the song go ? ..... something like:
Avenue D will be owned by rich people's dogs
the mayor will lift all the poop scooping laws
as if we weren't already drowning in enough
government shit
let's get rid of all the real estate terrorists
Chico deserves his own topic. While I do generally love folksy local art he's just rotten. He's loves to depict the obvious recent deaths that everyone is overly sentimental about: Lady Diana, Mother Teresa, Selena, etc. I remember cracking up when he misspelled Selena!

I actually kinda like the MOM one, at least it's not about some overhyped celebrity.
I always gag when I see Chico do one of those pop celebrities Miss U. The one of Selena was especially bad. Ech. It makes me think he does that lazy comic book style just to fit the kitschy sentiments, or he doesn't even care about the subject he just does those types because he thinks everyone is in to them. And no one cares about Lady Di, Mother Teresa or Selena in the EV. There are much more rigorous aerosol artists around, check out the huge mural on the corner of 2nd and A. I will give Chico props though for trying to rep the neighborhood and for taking on young apprentices. Mom was one of the coolest people I knew in the neighborhood. She probably would have joined in your criticism.
While eco-indulgent condos is a weird concept the thing that hurts me more is a 3 and half million dollar condo on east11 st. That's the nail in the coffin for me ever living in NYC again, I can barely live in ghetto Baltimore. There's not enough johns in the world that can add up for a 3.5 million condo, lol

PS-I have been away from NYC for some time,, is it really true that condos go for that much in the east village?
quote:
Originally posted by seven:
There are condos for ten million Babette.


Oh my,, that's insane,,,, where's common sense in buying a condo for that price? maybe this is where the stimulus money went,, into condos,,,lol

The more I read about NYC the less I want to go back. I'll happily live among the red necks where I live now over the 10 million dollar yuppies of the East Village. Actually it is quite sad for me to read things about NYC..
It is dismal to do comparison shopping for real estate using NYC as the bloated exemplar.
I know people in the mid west who buy whole houses for as little as $6,000.
Routinely, you need four grand more than that just to get in to a low end rental in NYC.
It is a whole different culture.

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