Saturday, September 15, 2007

.. [ day thirty-one ] .. N I haven't been hit by a truck, sorry DOC!

So, today walking from thrift store to thrift store, I stumbled across a women selling her wares, and I have come to a horrible politically incorrect thought: "I am over 'let's do it for the children.'"

Yesterday, I walked into a second hand store. The lady owner started telling me the advantages of buying stuff from her store. "..for the children, we provide money from the store to local youth groups in the community."

"Well, I am glad to hear of your socially conscious," I say allowing my mind to run with it, "but, what about the adults? Am I hearing we shouldn't care about adults anymore?", yikes Mr. Homelessness!

The vendor looked at me with a smile. "Well that would be an AMEN."

Hm ... the store is in a very quaint part of Seattle called Queen Anne, it is a socially conscious community, that sits on one edge of the 1962's Worlds Fair Space Needle. This neighbourhood is soon to become a more thriving metropolis with Bill Gates building 100.000's of square-feet of space devoted to his philanthropic foundation. It currently is the home for middle income to lower high income housing, that has a high density of professional types. The area appears to have never been gentrified, since many of the high end grocery stores that reside there appear to have been there for well over 20 plus years.

I hate it there. Have always. Why, because I find it pretentious. I like raw reality, pre gentriefied communities. I like to be part of the muck, the rawness is exhilarating. More importantly, it is exciting to be at the onset of an awareness. Whether art, music, social, or just new. Like what the deep Eluum street used to be in Dallas, prior to the completion of its gentrification, it was a vibrant exhilarating area that brought to it amazing festivals and raw creativity that to me, became my Bauhaus, Da-Da experience.

But, that isn't the only reason, why Queen Anne has always made me uncomfortable, although, I used to love running up the steep Queen Anne hill to the Queen Anne Pool to swim with the masters program, I felt that the area had too many closeted deep rooted bigoted emotions.

While being now restricted from more comfortable settings, sitting at a cafe in the middle of this area writing, this BLOGS early entries, I overheard a conversation that affirmed my uncomfortableness of the neighbourhood.

A stoutly Theodore Roosevelt, but Jewish in appearance, man was having a nice-day-outside-the-office with his small petite Japanese secretary typing feverishly on her laptop. I witnessed, passer-bys after passer-bys stop, shaking his hand and having small chit chats that, more often than not, would joust the man in front of me with laughter and confidence.

Bored, and nosey. My attempts to eves drop was requiring me to have to move over several tables. I over came my yearn for human interaction and social discussion. I also realized that I must have been staring too often, as more than once I noticed his eyes caught mine. He revealed in his popularity that day, and I sat introspectively thinking of how I used to love to come to cafe's, mine own in particular, and do my work.

While moving my concentration to to my entry, I noticed an uncharateriztic silence of the crowd, that woke me back up to the jovial jaunt of this man mocking sex offenders to one of his passer-bys: "Oh yes there has been a committee formed to deal with sex offenders, can you imagine ..."

Quickly, I stared at him, he got my message. 'I am considered a sex offender sir, do you have something to say to my face?'

Remember that cartoon in the 50's that was always in the back of 'Richie Rich Magazines'? The one where the big hunky swimmer on the beach kicks sand in the face of the skinny young man dreaming he could was strong and beautiful enough to get the girl?

I do.

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