I have been back in NY, for a week now, since the ending, of the tour. Haven't been doing much lately, but lots of thinking. Mainly about myself, and who I really am. Had a helluva good time sort of, during the Tour, and this is what has led, to most of my thinking. To put it all together, I think I am Italian, and I can prove it. A line of questioning, eventually, led to mulling over two questions, what does it TAKE to be Italian, and what does it MEAN, to be Italian. As I lay on my bed, thinking about this, it kinda hit me, I know what it MEANS to be Italian. You see, its like this, I've kinda figured out, what makes Italians, Italian, and I will prove it, hence proving, I am an Italiano. The meaning of Italian, can be categorized, into three areas. Italian, is a relational structure, mindset and aesthetic. That's how I kinda see it. By relational structure, I am referring to the way Italians, congregate, with each other. What I know is that, this relational structure, is a creation, of Burly Italians. It is they, who define, just how Italians in general, mix with each other. Then you have the mindset. By this, we are really referring, to a sense of order. That's what mindset really means. It is obvious to me, that the Italian mindset, has been defined by Sicilian-Americans. Finally, you have aesthetic, or notions of Beauty, which are defined by Italians, looking similar to Ralph Macchio. Now I kinda figured it like this, I kinda know who I am, or at least, my 'meaning'. When dealing with the relational structure, most would assume, I am Nairobian. Unknown to many, Nairobis, relational structure, was defined by Kenyan brownies. I however, find myself, unable to relate, to Kenyan brownies. I find it easier, to relate, to American brownies. That's what I'm thinking to myself really. But I know this still, that I am able to relate much better, to Burly Italians, than to just about anyone else, on this planet. I get their relational structure, at its core, its really about knowing when to 'go', and when not to. Then you have the mindset, or sense of order. For me previously, it was defined by Kenyan blackies, and consists of what it means to be Kenyan. But I know, there is a higher sense of order, New Yorkan/Sicilian/Al Pacino, than Kenyan, as the latter consists of simply, ordering me about. Aesthetic, or notions of Beauty, makes up my third well known sense of self. An important part, as it also defines, what I aim for in life, and a significant part, of my meaning. All I know is this, when God said, "Let there be Beauty", he really meant Miss Carla Gugino, and not really Kim. I appreciate African aethetics, as unknown to many probably, African, really means, ones notion of Beauty. African aesthetics, are cool, in their way, but I would rather listen to a Joe Perry solo, than a Congolese rhythm section. What I don't appreciate or even like, about African notions of Beauty, is what I am supposed to aim for, in life. It amounts to, nothing much. No one expects you, to be Leonardo da Vinci, in Africa. So, all in all, it is my understanding that Burly Italians, define the relational structure, for all Italians, Sicilian-Americans, their sense of order, and the Creative Italians, their aesthetics. What I believe is this, that Robert DeNiro, should be a better actor, than Al Pacino. There is another section of Italians, those referred to as simply, "other" Italians, like Martin Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio, and even Gina Gershon. Unknown to most, these people represent, the international face of Italians. Funnily enough, they are referred to as, Italian-Americans. Most people don't know this. When most people see Al Pacino or Ralph Macchio, they're really thinking, New Yorker or American, not Italian-American. Thanks to Italian-Americans, most people believe Italians, to be gangsters, or somewhat crazy. I know they're not. Goodfellas, was not Robert DeNiro, but one could say, it was Scorsese. When I was seriously thinking, of becoming Italian, I thought, I could really, be a part of the "others'. I could see myself, representing Italians everywhere, but sort of came to the understanding, that my audience, may not be so appreciative. There is nothing, like a brownie Italian, they would say. Am really thinking though, that there must be a better image for Italians, rather than gangsters, or somewhat crazy people. Now I know, there are crazy people out there, believe me, and many of these images, are actually targeted towards them, but I believe also, there is a better way, of dealing with them, like 'convincing' them, that Italians have black blood in them. But after a while of this, I came to a discovery or acceptance really, that I am not really, an international person. Naomi Campbell, is more of an 'International Italian', than I am. It was then, that I hit upon another realization, and understanding, of Italian culture, that at its heart, its all about being sentimental. Being sentimental I believe, is partly about being solemn, touchy, and knowing pleasantness. I believe, I can act as a creative impulse, to Italians in general, and therefore, creating a more dynamic culture, just by mixing with them. That's at the very least. I know, I can have James Gandolfini, manifesting new forms, of pleasantness or unpleasantness, just by interacting with him. I am a creativity manifest, a religious brownie if you must, and I can be a spark, to Italian creativity, as seen in the past. I know I can. I believe too, that Italians, as a people, suffer, from low self-belief, due to a feeling, of lack of achievement. It is often believed, by many, that Italians, are not as productive, as other "white" groups. Now, I know, that Goodfellas, was an amazing feat in itself; I was glued to the screen, TV, when I first saw it, and had never seen anything like it before, but I also know this, that Carla, would just not approve. I do also believe this too, that I have the kind of creativity, that can give birth, to new ideas, that can serve, as a service, to humanity. I believe I can "lend", some of them, to "Italians", in exchange for "citizenship", in Italia-America. I really know I can, I am that creative, with respects, to humanity. Everybody, can be a winner here. Now, I also very much know this too, that it would look kinda ridiculous, if not absurd, to have just one brownie, as a member of Italia-America. I would therefore recommend, that more of us religious brownies, are admitted into Italia-America. I for instance, would recommend Slash, and I can very much see the both of us, holding a forum perhaps, not too much unlike, "Religious brownie Idol", to get more of us in. To sum it all up really, I really believe, I am of Italia, an Italiano, and no one can take that from me, its just too logical. Its been proven.
Its with these thoughts running through my mind, one morning, Saturday, about a week later, after a return from the tour, that I am awake, out of bed, and on to the shower. A shower later, I am back in my room, dress up in black pants and a black jacket, and sooner than later, I am downstairs, to grab something to eat. I open, my mostly empty fridge, and upon looking in disappointed, kind of make up my mind, to catch something later. I am out of the house, and am making my way, to the Joy Club. Its about 11 a.m., as I reach the junction towards my destination, and I kinda turn to somewhat seek out, the security guard, in the adjoining building. Don't see him, cross the junction, and I find myself, almost skipping along, as I transverse my way, to the Joy Club. As I am nearing the club, I come across a wall with some graffiti, and on it, in red, clearly, are the words "John Gotti", which kinda fazes me, partly shocks me, and makes me kinda slow down, as I walk along. I make my way more slowly, pensively, towards the Joy Club, and upon arriving there, am surprised, to find it partially shut, one door. I kinda make my way in there, and stand around looking at the somewhat dark club, wondering what could be possibly going on. I stand in there, getting accustomed to the surroundings, when one of the burly men, the bar tender, comes out from behind, sees me as he is working, kinda looks at me, and says, "Hey, Kid, come along to the back." I follow him from behind, and we go out to the back, where there is a waiting pick up truck, with another driver in it. I am asked then, to jump into the truck, and as the man, is finishing loading some crates, onto the truck, I sit at the front with the driver, before he begins, to start up the truck. I don't really think much, of where we are going, and simply decide to sit back, and see where we both end up. We are off, and after a long while somewhat, having driven through several NY boroughs, we set off, towards outside, of NY, as I see it. We are off going, and I look around, and see a greener NY, which reminds me of my former trip, with Robert DeNiro. Surprisingly enough, if not, we are soon at the gates, of a private club, and we drive in slowly, as we head towards the parking lot. Having arrived there, I look towards my left, and I see the pick up truck, belonging to the guys. I get out, and I follow the burly man, who pointingly asks me to do so, and soon enough, we are inside the club itself, no entry door, and he guides me towards an open space, serving as entry and rest place, and when we get there, points me towards a group, which I recognize as being the guys. I head towards them after looking at the burly man somewhat, as I did expect to help me out, and as I close in, I recognize someone new, seated with the guys. He looks Italian, but not. I close in, and before not too long, I am standing somewhat behind the guys, who are seated, somewhat minding their business. I don't know what to say, I'm never nervous around the guys, but there is someone new there, and I find myself saying, "Hey", to the group. Some of them, partially turn around, and upon seeing me, kinda point, to a seat nearby. I am seated there, and begin to somewhat look around, "Whats up?", I say confidently, and look somewhat around, and they kinda look at me, as if to say, "nothing much", but their eyes seem to say, "what do you think?" I know, I don't get along too well, with men. I can work with them, but just don't get them socially. I somewhat understand women more socially, than men. I look at the new face, amongst us, and he kinda looks back at me, as if I'm an outsider. I can see, he is Italian, but does not look American. I look him briefly, and then kinda retire, to my own thoughts, looking around occasionally. I kinda feel, after sometime, that everyone is observing me somewhat, but they are not. Still feeling confident, and I turn and ask the guys, "Anything to eat?" One of them, kinda begins to point out a spot, I can go order something from, but the others, not together really, point out, they will be leaving soon. I sit there, kinda feeling nervous, really about their leaving, and once again, find myself looking around. I look at the new face again, and find myself somewhat, nodding at him. He simply ignores me, and kind of just stares at me. After a while of the silence, the burly man kinds of returns, and with a click of his fingers, garners the attention, of some of the guys, one who gets up, to talk to him. They go off some distance, I looking at them really somewhat, and when they are done, the guy, returns, and kind of asks everyone, to get up and get moving. I kinda look at them shocked, and as they are getting up moving, one of them kinda motions at me, as if to tell me, to join them. I do so eagerly, looking now with more interest, at the new face, as we all go along, and soon enough, are at the parking lot, and inside the truck. The truck, is a four seater, and I am forced, to jump onto the back, along with one of the guys. We are out of the club, and soon enough, more than later, we are back in NY. We drive off, towards an area unknown, and arrive, at a destination, unknown to me. Its an old building, kind of empty, and I look around me, after we disembark from the truck, and see some Italians, hard at work. They are kind of, reinovating, the place. A burly man approaches us and says, "You're here", speaking really to one of the guys, and then adds, "Go in there", pointing towards a door, "and talk to Frankie." We start off, towards the door, me attempting to look manly, as I know, I have an awkward walk. We get there, and while some of us wait outside, one guy, goes in, and we stand there, me and the new face, somewhat eyeing each other. The area, is in an old shabby neighbourhood, filled I believe, with Eastern European immigrants, and as I look around, I wonder what could be going on. The guy who went in, as I know none of the fellas names really, comes out, and in a clear voice, asks us to follow him, while somewhat pointing ahead. We do as he instructs, and very soon, we are inside the building, where we head off towards a big room, with all kinds of stuff in it. We are supposed to clear it out. I kinda look around amazed, but am also thinking, I'm in this with the guys, and the new face. The new face is Piedro. I learn this and more, as we take a lunch break, after about two hours of work, and while eating sandwiches. I can see from the look on his face, that Piedro, does not like the sandwiches, peanut butter, and as we gulp them down really, he kinda talks, with his mouth full. Piedro mentions, that he is from Italy, and is in America, to visit his relatives I suppose: the guys. I kinda look at them, when he says that, and then back at him. We are seated, on a pile of wood, munching away, and the guys are further away, talking to another group. Piedro says, that he hasn't been in America, for a while now, and he thinks, it has changed quite a bit. He thinks the people, look different. I listen in to what he has to say, pondering somewhat to myself, but begin to think he has lost it, when he begins talking of Europe. From what I can get of his talk, Piedro, kind of believes, Europe, is a much better place, than America. Piedro, also believes I believe, I being originally from Africa, know nothing, about Europe. I don't know why, but he thinks this. I ask him, if he has considered ever, moving to America. He says no, for he believes, America, to be kind of lonely. He also believes, European women, are more beautiful, than American women. I don't know what to say, because he is saying stuff, I totally disagree with. Its kinda hard, talking to someone, who totally disagrees with you. I listen, to what I consider, to be mucker-roo, for I totally believe, he is talking nonsense, but doesn't know it. I don't really say anything to him, for I don't like getting into arguments. I believe in living, in a logical universe, and you either make sense, or don't. The group ahead, the guys, breaks up, and its time to get back to work. Italians, know how to work. They know when to take breaks, when to do what, and how to do it. They generally know, how to pace themselves. I would therefore consider FedEx, to be a great Italian company. For it is built, on the Italian work ethic, without Italians. I know what drives FedEx, the disciplines, Game theory and the likes, and I know, that Italians, are naturally good, at this stuff. Even, the way, they hold conversations, has a game theory twist to it. They know this stuff. FedEx, without Italians, is like selling blue ketchup. Still ketchup, but blue. We are back to work, not feeling too tired, Piedro, somewhat making his way through, as I mostly notice him, as we work. We are soon done, and its time, to go home. I am waiting at the pick-up truck, with some of the guys, and Piedro, while perusing, through a paper. The New York Times. I don't know, I kinda feel important, reading it. I look through, most of it, with a passing interest. I kinda feel, its not targeted, towards me. They kinda speak about stuff, I never think of, and in no time, having looked through the business section, I find myself, in the sports section. Am not really, a sports fan, because, I don't really like sports. I like Games, but not sports. Basketball is fine with me, but I prefer watching Tennis. Football is fine too, but I really get Baseball. I also know this too, that Southerners, really prefer Sporting Activities, like Athletics, to sports, minus the Super Bowl. I'm still reading through, the sports section, talk mainly about contracts, when two of the guys, finally show up, and its time to go. We jump in, into the pick-up, I at the back, feeling kinda alive, and off we are. Some time later, not knowing how we got there really, NY kinda looks the same to me, the fellas, drop me off, at my home. Its about 5 p.m., and as I kinda wave a goodbye and attempt to mumble one too, one of the guys, somewhat leaning out of the truck, head first, arms out, says to me, "Hey, you wanna go out tonight?" "Yeah, sure, what time?" I say having turned around, but somewhat leaning backwards, as if about to move, "8 p.m." "Sure" I say, "why not?" and he kinda waves, as the truck, has already began to speed off, and I turn to the other side, and keep walking, kinda, somewhat, feeling, excited. Its about 8:15, when I hear a truck, drive up the driveway, and I kinda leap up, as if ready to do battle. I have on blue jeans, white shirt, and my brown jacket. I walk to the door, open it, and am out walking down the stairs on the porch, after having shut it. "Whats up guys?" I say to them, kinda peering into the truck, and feeling happy somewhat, that everybody is there. I notice, that Piedro, is seated inside the truck, at the back, and one of the fellas, is at the back of the pickup. I somewhat runningly, jump onto the back, and the truck, begins to move backwards. We're off, in no time, and for some reason, find myself seeing Times Square, in my mind. As we go along, I notice, there are people everywhere, NY seems to be alive. I look around, I do notice some women, and as we go along, I kinda start to wonder, where we are headed. Soho, comes to mind, having heard that word before, but it was in a Cosmopolitan. The East Village, also crosses my mind, but I sit and wait, to see, where we are really going. We arrive at a place, with several restaurants, outdoor, and some clubs too. It kinda looks trendy, and as usual, I notice, there are many white people. Am not saying this, because some would believe, I would rather, be, in an ethnic party spot, but I do kinda really notice, there are many white people. The truck is parked, and its time, to disembark. I wait for the guys, to come out of the truck, before jumping out. Am feeling, kinda self-conscious, for an unknown reason. The guys are dressed in black, and other dark colours, and they kinda stand out. Piedro looks cool, and very European. We begin moving, towards the clubs and restaurants, on the other side of the road, I not really watching the road, as we cross the street. We're on the other side, and soon enough, we are standing outside the doors, to a club. There is really no line, to get into it, but there are bouncers, who kinda seem to be happy, to see the guys, and am thinking, its because they are Italian, for some reason. They look Piedro up once, but kinda don't know, what to do with me. "He's with us", one of the guys says, and before not too long, we are all in. Inside, we are met with a view. Its really trendy, and I kinda wonder, why the guys are here. I kinda notice, Piedro, walking confidently, and we begin, to ascend the stairs, to an upper glass section. Am really thinking, not my kind of place, not that I know, much about clubs. It took me some time, to understand, what clubs are about. I used to think, that "clubbing", as we called it, was about going to a club, having a drink or two, and then chasing women. But I later got the gist of it; Its all about, going in there, and posing. The person or guy, with the best pose retinue, gets to meet the chicks, later on, in the night. Its like the fashion industry, without the money. Once I learn, the concept of something, I kinda lose interest. I kind of find it interesting, that someone, would come up with the idea, of opening a big room, for people, to pose in it, and still make money of it. So, I kinda turn to Pedro, as we are seated, in a section, of the club, and the guys are at a bar nearby, speaking to some people. "How do you like the women?", and he kinda folds his lips, and says, "They are beautiful, but I do not like them." Am kinda thinking, he's kind of like me, and I find myself, looking at the bar, where the guys are. He then continues, "They are not very open" he says, "but I think they are not very nice." I kinda turn to look through the club, but mainly at the women. As we are seated there, a woman, of Eastern European origins, comes up, and says hello to Piedro, in Italian. Kinda catches me by surprise. Piedro, maintains his cool, and says hello back, as the woman turns to glance at me, openly somewhat. They speak a while in Italian I believe, and after a while, she leaves. After that, Piedro, kinda goes quiet. The people, in the club, seem to be rich. I kinda get, what money is about today. I believe, most people don't. They don't see it, the way I do. There was a time, money, was all about Love and Freedom. People chased it, to acquire, any of the two, or even both. Today, money, is all about, accessing, forms of Beauty. Most don't see it that way. We live today, in an ugly world, and there is a human tendency, to desire Beauty, of all kinds. You cannot speak, of Love or Freedom, without speaking of Beauty really. Beauty, in its various forms, lies at the heart, of Love and Freedom. One cannot, really fall in Love, with an ugly woman. Its logically impossible. The lack of Beauty, in the world today, has many people, living in the past. Many possibly remember, their first day in school, their childhood and childhood friends, their first pet, or probably the first time, they ever saw, Caroline Spencer, in the 'Bold and the Beautiful'. Its really an ugly world, and most out there, will spend top dollar, to probably belong, to a private club, of some sort. For those without money, your best chance, is meeting someone with a beautiful personality, of some kind. But such people, are not too many out there. Not too many Jack Nicholsons, out there. For those without money, or access, to interesting people, life can be tiresome. I used to visit strip clubs, mostly because, I think, I got the concept. Strip clubs, are really beauty spots. One goes in there, and watches somewhat like beautiful women, dancing somewhat. The drinks are cheap, and the audience, most easily described, as being positive. Many are into beer songs. The woman returns again, speaks to Piedro in Italian, and then they both leave together, without a word from Piedro. Am now really thinking, not my kind of place. Am kinda seated there all alone, but after a time, go to the bar, to get a drink. Back again, to where I was before, and I concentrate on taking my drink, slowly. The club begins to fill up soon. People start coming in, Italian looking, Piedro like, and I am kinda seated there, looking at all of them. They kinda seem obnoxious. When I feel this way, I begin to judge people. Piedro believes Italians, his kind, built New York. The more I see of them though, I find myself believing, not so. I look at the guys, and can see, they are cool, with me, but I don't really begin judging people, until I see some African women and men, come in. We don't talk, we don't really look at each other. Now I feel really judgmental. I can somewhat feel the tension. I look at Piedro. Piedro, believes, he is Italian, or atleast belongs, in Italia-America. I know, he really does not. I know something about Italy. The relational structure in Italy, is European, in that sense, Italians from Italy, are not too different, from other Europeans. Their mindset, is somewhat communistic. They order each other around. Their sense of Beauty, is African. Italy today, is really an African nation. They don't know anything about being sentimental. They are really passive, but think they are sentimental. And then, you have their sense of success. Italians, from Italy, believe in being cool. They know nothing, of sophistication. I know something about sophistication in Italia-America. The Burly Italians for instance, believe in a sophistication, based on becoming better people. They are the most religious, of all Italians. Then you have the Sicilians, whose sense of sophistication, is about being Knowledgeable. Then you have the Creative Italians, whose sense of sophistication, is based on how they express themselves. I don't fit in there, I have a different type of sophistication. I am sophisticated I believe, in the way, I view things. I believe, some call it, sophistry. Italians from Italy, are still doing, the cool thing, which is kinda old. Knights invented that stuff. I don't really like, Italians from Italy. I glance at the bar, to see one of the fellas, say hi to someone. I look at him, and know he is from Nigeria. Think of even going up to talk to him, knowing Nigerians, to be cordial atleast. Italians, in Italia-America, I know, have often wondered, why people believe, they are similar to Africans. Part of it, is because of Italians from Italy. Unknown to most though, it's the sentimental thing. Most don't know, that a lot of the colonial structures, in the former British-Africa, are actually of American origin. The colonialists, borrowed, a culture, that was once popular in 20's America, and especially New York, which they made their own. A sentimental culture, similar to what you see, in "The talented Mr. Ripley" with Matt Damon, or "Cool", by Gwen Stefani. It is this colonial culture, that has defined African interactional norms, making Africans in former British-Africa, somewhat Italian. My sentimental self, is not really of this influence, but I believe, really Italian. I am different from Africans, in this regard. I see myself, as being dapper. I sit by, sipping my drink to myself, looking around, kinda hoping, the Nigerian guy, will come up and somewhat say hello, making me look respectable, once again. The night ends, with me having sat through most of it.
The next day, I find myself walking the streets of NY again, somewhere near the Joy Club. I am wondering what to do with my day. Its about 11:30 a.m., and I am trying, to walk out, a hangover, from the past night. I am also thinking to myself, maybe Times Square, or somewhere like that, having awoken up early today, watched some TV, Sunday morning TV always being so pleasant, and as I glide along, somewhat feeling giddy, almost finding myself breaking out into a rendition of "Singin' in the rain", I feel a car, drive up somewhat slowly up to me. I turn somewhat, to see a black Mercedes Benz, glide up slowly, by me, away, and I kinda bend, to look inside it, just in time for me, to see the front door open, and upon really looking in, finding Al Pacino, saying to me, "Jump in." I do as he says, walking first towards, and then getting into the car. I shut the door, and the car, begins to roll. I turn somewhat to look at Al Pacino, but he is busy concentrating, on the road ahead. I look at the dashboard, and see some cigars, package, on it. I turn back, to look frontwards and outside the windows, at the various houses, as we glide along. About fifteen minutes later, a word not spoken between us, Al Pacino, glides up, and slows down, next to a house. I look at it, first glancingly, then shockingly, as I notice Al Pacino, kind of waiting patiently, for me to leave I believe. "This is not my house" I say, "this is Ralph Macchios house." Al Pacino, somewhat glances at the house, bended neck, and then says to me, "Well, go in there, and say hello." Just as I am turning back, to look at the house, a car drives up, onto the small driveway. A person exits the car, and we both see, Ralph Macchio. He bends, downwards, and waves at Al Pacino I believe. I on the otherhand, quickly open the window separating us, and Al Pacino says out to Ralph Macchio, "Ralph, I brought you something." I, on hearing this, somewhat quickly exit the car, and stand awkwardly outside, looking at Ralph Macchio, who has by now, opened the trunk to his car, with an electric device. While standing there, Ralph Macchio, turns to quickly look at Al Pacino, as if somewhat surprised, just in time to see Al Pacino, wave at him, and then drive off. I continue standing looking at Ralph Macchio, and then at his car trunk, before he points into it, somewhat briskly, and says, "Mind helpin' me here?" I look at his trunk, to see two grocery bags, and he picks up one, places a hand on the trunks cover, and watches, as I have already began, walking towards the bag, in the trunk. I pick the bag, and he shuts the trunk, somewhat slamming the cover, and I begin to follow him, towards the house; he gets to the door, takes out some keys, turns the lock on the door, opens the door, and I follow him in, and, for the second time in a while, I find myself shutting, the door, to Ralph Macchios house. We're in, and I am walking somewhat right behind Ralph Macchio, as we head, towards the kitchen. We are in it, and Ralph Macchio, places his bag, on the small table, surrounded by stools, and I do as he does. He goes towards the sink, picks a glass from the plastic dryer nearby, and fills it with water from the nearby taps, while saying, "Want anything to drink?" "Nope" I say, "I'm fine." I somewhat stand looking at him from the back, drink the water, before turning around, and going towards the living room. I take off my shoes, just at the entrance to the living room, leaving them by the sofa nearby, and I walk on his white carpet, and sit on the long sofa, in the living room. I kinda look around, at the small sofa on my left, and at the dining set, just at the entrance, next to the door. I kind of find myself saying, "New York, New York", while thinking of P. Diddy. I am seated there, really waiting for Ralph Macchio to appear, and he passes me, while saying, "I am headed on up, watch some TV or something." I look at the little glass table before me, the remote is on it, and I kinda pick it up, looking at the remote, and searching for the power button. I see it, at the top, as I expected, and turn on the TV, to a sports channel, with a basketball game on. The Lakers. I kinda watch it for a while, but find myself seeking something else to do, really because, I don't really watch much TV, ever since arriving in NY, and also because, I don't really like Kobe Bryant. I look through the living room, and I see that to the right of me, there is a music stereo holder, with a music stereo in it, and some music records, to the right, which I can see, through the glass doors. I head towards it, open the glass doors, and begin to go through, Ralph Macchios, record collection. The collection surprises me. I somewhat glance, at the stereo, looks cool I think, somewhat Japanese, and then back to the collection, which I am now, perusing. There are a lot of Italian singers, I have never heard of. I do come across, a Sinatra record, which kinda makes me feel, at home, with the collection. The record, kind of makes me think, of my being Italian again. I have even gone as far, as thinking up an Italian name for me: Al Stravionni. I kinda think it fits me well, and describes me almost, to a tee I believe. I am still perusing through the collection, when I come across a Michael Jackson LP, Thriller. I take it out somewhat excited, looking carefully at it. I open it up, take a look at Michael, and find myself, looking at the back. I somewhat believe, I am trying to see, whether there is a difference between it, and other such LP's, in other parts of the world. Someone dunks, I believe, and I turn towards the TV, to hear the commentators, talking about it, and praising the dunker. I go back, to the Michael Jackson LP. I am still seated there, now really sifting through the collection, when Ralph Macchio, comes on down, and I hear him, and turn, to somewhat see him, kind of staring at me. He looks at me, I look him back in the eye, as if asking, "Something wrong", and he says to me, "I'm going out, to get something to eat." "Wanna" he says lowly, "come along?" I somewhat fold my lips, while partially raising my eyebrows, before saying, "okay." We head on out, after my closing the music stereo holder doors, putting on my shoes, and walking briskly after him, as he walks out of the house, and I shut the door behind me. I get to the car, ford mustang, as he is getting in, and he has slid over, and unlocked the door on my side, and I enter the car, as he is fastening his seat belt, and about to start the car. I slam the door somewhat fast, and begin to fasten, my seatbelt. We're out of the driveway, and soon enough, headed towards an unknown destination, as I somewhat sit back, and begin looking at the cars around me, as we pass them along. "Nice car" I say, as we move along, and a moment somewhat later, he somewhat says, "Yeah". We are soon, in another part of NY, I haven't not gotten used to, the changing scenes or boroughs, of NY. We eventually, pull up to an eatery, and upon parking the car, and getting out pretty fast, leaving me somewhat confused, he motions through the front window, for me to get out. I get out, and make sure, my door is locked, and begin to follow Ralph, to the eatery nearby. There are all sorts of people standing nearby. They are all dressed pretty street, and I notice some Asian guys, looking street and smart, nearby, and the whole scene, has me thinking of Jay-Z. As I pass the Asian guys, who are somewhat posing, I can't also help but think of Jay-Z, as a brownie. I follow Ralph, into the eatery, Chinese, and I find him standing at the front, already appearing to be ordering, and I look around, at the somewhat small crowd, inside. I somewhat make my way towards Ralph, bumping into some figures on the way, and stand near him, as he seriously turns to me and says, "Wanna get something?" I look across the front and counter, at the faces behind it, who seem to be staring at me, and then at the menu, placed above them, lit up, and I find myself, looking for something, with chicken in it. I place my order, somewhat appearing to be nervous, with Ralph Macchio, looking at me, as if I am giving, a performance. I find myself, standing looking around somewhat awkwardly, as our orders are fulfilled, and at times, glance, at Ralph Macchio, while actually, trying to fit in, into the crowd. I kinda feel out of place. I look at the black faces around me, trying to place their ethnicity, but they all look New Yorkan, to me. Everybody kinda looks the same, different colours. I stand around, somewhat shaking my head, frontwards backwards, and I can hear some voices, but cant seem to tell where they are coming from. I kinda feel, I don't fit in really, and also really feel, probably never will really. I look at Ralph Macchio, who has one hand in his pockets, and the other, twirling his keys around, as he looks at the counter, awaiting our meal. I look around at the people somewhat. Don't really like the black faces, don't know anything about the white faces, and somewhat find myself looking at the Asian faces. Our meals, are ready, as I am still attempting to find a pose, that will fit me in. I have my hands, thumbs really, in my trouser pockets, and I am dead like, staring at the front, somewhat grinding my teeth, as I appear, to be thinking to myself. Ralph Macchio, is handed a bag, which I look at, and he appears, to pay off everything, with the exact change. We're out again, him first, having swiftly passed by me, and I follow him outside, still looking, at the folks out there. We are in the car, me feeling self-conscious, and I find myself staring at the clothings, of those outside. Ralph, starts the car, and we soon drive away, and back towards his place. We arrive there, I still really feeling, where we just came from, and for a moment, I think of the NYPD, and then not. It's a whole different NY, I think and feel again, and I cannot help, but glancingly think, of Joe Perry. We are in, and Ralph Macchio, heads, into the house and the kitchen, as I get to the front door, to see him, almost entering the kitchen, and look to see the TV, still on. There is a commercial on it. I go towards, and into the kitchen, to find Ralph, taking out his meal, and pointing at the bag as he does, towards mine, looking somewhat quickly at me, before quickly turning around towards the sink, to pick up a fork, on the plastic dryer. He heads over to the fridge, fork on the meal in paper box, and takes out two drinks, one which he throws towards me, while saying somewhat before, "hey". I look up, from looking within the plastic bag, and catch the drink, and place it on the table. I await Ralph Macchio, to leave the kitchen, before really looking into my meal, searching for a folk, and carrying everything, carefully, into the living room, thinking of the carpet, as I do so. There is nowhere, to place the food, or drink, and the little glass table, is further ahead, and I place everything carefully, on the long sofa, while turning to pick up the remote, and I find myself thinking, HBO. I flip through the channels, somewhat noticing the white women in them, flip through a Black comedy, somewhat watch it, before settling, on a lifestyles TV show. Expensive homes, and their decorations. I begin to eat, while I am watching, thinking of the homes theoretically, not really imagining myself, owning one, and while concentrating on everything at once, I hear and feel, the front door open, and I am hit, by feelings of fear, somewhat. I look back, to see Tina, having walked in, and began to stare at me somewhat, before my turning to look at the door, and hearing voices, outside. "Where's Ralph?" she asks somewhat surprisingly, and I use my fork, to point upstairs, while saying, "Up stairs." She somewhat looks at me, and begins almost immediately, to head upstairs. The voices, begin to come through the door, and I go back to my concentrating on the TV, while eating, and don't look back. The voices pass me, without a hello, though I find myself identifying them, by ethnicity. I hear a white female voice, an Asian voice and a black male voice. I simply look forward on. Tina comes down again, I hear her, and she heads towards her gang, in the kitchen. I continue watching the show, and upon finishing my meal, wonder what to do, with the remains. I can somewhat see myself, throwing them away, into the garbage, amongst the group, in the kitchen. I look at them, and pick them up, walk into the kitchen, openly notice the plastic bag I left on the table, and head towards, the garbage bin, I believe to be, below the sink, and upon not finding it there, and standing upright somewhat shocked and surprised, I hear Tina mention, that it is in the cupboarding, on the other side, across, the kitchen, to my left. I go there, open the doors, find the garbage, and throw in the remains, thinking of the plastic bag, before walking back into the living room, somewhat looking at Tina. I am back watching the TV, and somewhat minding my business, as I take in, the house somewhat. About two hours later, having watched the TV mostly, I find myself, contemplating, leaving, and walking home. I see myself, finding my way there. As I am about to actually leave, Ralph Macchio, comes on down, and sits on the small sofa, to my left. "Whats on?" he says, as he picks up the remote control, and begins to flip, through the stations. I just watch his doing somewhat, as he does so. He settles, on a News channel, NY channel I suppose, and I somewhat sit back, to listen, to what I believe, is somewhat a waste of time. As I am somewhat listening, a short while later, Ralph Macchio says, "You should join the gang, in the kitchen." I look somewhat towards it quickly, taking a deep breathe somewhat, and appear to be mundanely, pondering, his request. I decide to walk in there, and look the gang, from the back. I notice Tina, somewhat looking at me, and she heads, into the fridge, behind the gang, and I cross the gang, and walk towards the small table, where Tina, is now on, opening a small ice cream cup, with a spoon, in her mouth. She somewhat notices me getting ready to set myself, on a stool nearby, which I don't, as I feel her believing it to be so, and I look her in the eyes somewhat openly, and say to her, "So Tina", her looking somewhat cool, if not disapprovingly, and I not caring much, since I have already began, continue by saying, "how do you know Carla Gugino?" "Carla Gugino?!!" "I just know her" she says, while opening the ice cream cup, spoon on the table, "Why?!!" she adds, while looking up at me. I find myself, opening my hands, in a gesture, while somewhat folding my mouth, with eyes somewhat closed. She turns to her right, ice cream in hand, while saying, "You should go talk to her", taking out the spoon placed on her lips, and returning it there, as she walks around in an arc, towards the gang. I turn, to look at the gang somewhat, before I begin to head back, into the living room, somewhat dotingly, not caring. I arrive in the living room, and look out, to see Ralph Macchio, spread out on the small sofa, and walk up and sit near him, on the long sofa. I turn to him, as he watches the TV, commercial on, and briskly say to him, "Hey Ralph, how well do you know, Carla Gugino?" He looks somewhat at me, shakes his head briskly and says, "We don't do that here, we don't talk about noone." He looks straight forward again, and slightly shakes his head rapidly, and keeps on watching. I look forward, at the TV, sensing that he is pissed off, and somewhat recline into it, feeling myself, not caring some more. A while later, not too much later, he jumps up, dressed in blacks pants and his jacket, and when at the dining set, says to me I believe openly, "Come with me." I get up, somewhat jumping up, look somewhat into the kitchen, put on my shoes, before turning to follow Ralph Macchio, briskly, into the driveway. As I am walking towards him, to the car, as he is by it, he somewhat shouts, almost ordering, "get in", and I do, as I believe, ordered. I am in the car, moments later, fastening seatbelt, he waiting a little while, starting the car, looking at me buckling up I believe, and when I am done, he drives off immediately, off the driveway. We're on the streets, and now almost speeding off somewhere, and then speeding, into parts of NY, unknown to me. We are driving, silence between us, and with time, me observing the trees and passerby's outside, we arrive in a silent neighbourhood, with well built houses, and many black gates. Ralph, drives up to a T junction, and stops the car, right in the middle. He somewhat leans, as he points to a black gate, further away, down the road. "That's where Carla lives", he says to me, as I turn to look at him, and he has on, a folded mouth, with somewhat sunken eyes, an expression I take to mean, "I dare ya." I look back, towards the gate, and find myself almost immediately, jumping out of the car, and walking towards it, without a care, feeling confident. As I walk, I feel Ralph and the car, behind me, and with time, I am at the gate. I look back, at the car, and Ralph Macchio in it, and find myself knocking on the gate. There is a silence I feel, and then I believe, somewhat hear but really feel, movement. I look back at the car somewhat, just to hear and see the gate opening up. "Who is this guy?" a voice says, as I see a burly man, with a hat on, look at me, and then at the sides. I somewhat sense a presence, there too. "What do you want?" he asks in a somewhat unpleasant tone, and I can somewhat see his eyes, within the shade inside, as I somewhat swallow my saliva. "What do you want?" he says again, somewhat more loudly, looking me in the eye, with hands open, and I lift my hand, and with my thumb, point at the car, and somewhat say loudly, "I am with Ralph Macchio" somewhat gesturing towards the car. The man, arrives outside the gate, as I step back, and looks towards the car, and we both see Ralph Macchio, look towards us, wave at the man, before driving away. "What do you want?" he says, somewhat nastily, as I begin to somewhat say, "Tina said..." as I slowly drop off, looking at the man, who appears to be somewhat angry. "Get out of here" he says, and I find myself, somewhat retreating from him, walking down the road really, backwards, just to look through the gates, at the house inside, to see some ruffling on the curtains, I can view before me. I look back at the man, who is standing with his hands before him, together, and turn to my left, and somewhat walk in an arc, towards the side of the road. I begin to walk away, feeling really unhappy, and can strongly sense, whats behind me. I am off and away, towards my place.
It is one day later, at night, and I am at home, watching TV. There is a movie on, the Contender, with Christian Slater, and I find myself somewhat liking him, and not liking him. I find myself, as I watch along, imagining up Carla Gugino, and with time, I am in a conversation with her.
Carla Gugino: "You are not in love with me, as you think you are." Me: "Why not?" *looking away somewhat disappointed* Carla Gugino: "Because you don't really like me."
I look at her standing there, but my attention is turned to a commotion on the TV, before turning eyes really, to look at where she was.
Two days later, I am walking on the streets again, wondering what to do, and hostile thoughts somewhat, mainly saddened, of Ralph Macchio, come into my mind. As I am walking on, I hear a vehicle, somewhat closing in, and turn to see, a pick-up truck, old model, which I immediately recognize, as belonging to the Joy Club. I can't see the burly man in it really, and when he closes in, opens the door on my side, and says, "Jump in." I do as he requests, not thinking much, and before soon, we are away, and driving to an unknown destination. With time, we arrive, at the house, I had first met Robert DeNiro in. He stops the truck, when we are inside the gates, and as I look at him, play with his thumbs looking down towards the steering, I somewhat sense, that I am supposed to get out. I begin to get out, and not feeling any movement of any kind from the man, proceed to do so openly, and somewhat shut-close the door, before making my way, into the house. I am in the house, and decide to go immediately somewhat, to the room Robert DeNiro, was in. I arrive there, and begin to walk in, somewhat cautiously, as if not wanting to disturb. I get in fully, to see Robert DeNiro, standing where he was before, with his leg, up a bar attached to the bar counter before him, as he twirls a dice, fastly, on the tips of his fingers. I get in there, stand behind, a bit far from him, while he continues to twirl the dice, before turning around, shiftingly fast, and looks me somewhat up and says, "Bantu Mooor" somewhat lowly and slowly, while looking me straight. "Tell me" he says, "how do you define yourself?" before turning back around again, and proceeding to twirl the dice on his fingers. I walk up, to the stool, at the other end, of the bar counter, and sit on it. He somewhat glances towards me, while still twirling, immediately catches the dice in his hand, and then proceeds almost attentively, to pull out a dictionary, lying somewhat inside, on the other side, of the bar counter. He grabs it, and while somewhat twirling the dice on his left hand, push slides the dictionary, towards me. I grab stop the dictionary, look towards him as he has gone back to twirling the dice, and sift through it, to "define." I know what define means, I somewhat think to myself, and my mind quiets, as I get to the word. I look through it, and somewhat later, find a meaning I like. I however, don't really know, how to apply it to myself: "To describe the nature, or basic qualities of." As I am looking at it, while thinking, but knowing am getting nowhere, I somewhat look up to see Robert DeNiro, close his hand, dice in it, then begin to turn, towards me, while pointing with his free hand and saying, "Go over there, go stand by the mirror there." I look towards the mirror to my right, unattached to the wall, body length, and begin to move towards, while placing down the dictionary, on the counter. I get there and begin to look at myself, in the mirror. I hear Robert DeNiro's voice go, "You probably look in there, and probably don't like what you see. You're probably thinking, 'if I looked somewhat different, everything would be okay.'" I find myself agreeing with what he says, for am thinking, if I looked more like Joe Perry, then everything would be okay. "You're probably the type of person," he continues, "who knows how to get around people. You probably have great abilities and ableness. You probably know how to talk up people, to see things your way, and even have them, feeling sorry for you. Probably could have been a friend of Napoleons, probably could have overthrown him too, but I'll tell you this, that's not what America is all about." He somewhat turns back to his twirling, and continues as he does so, in a somewhat loud and snarling voice, "Now, I'll tell you this" he says, "Carla, is near, but still very far, And, you can get to her, if you can show, what you're capable of. Just define yourself, its really that simple." He continues to concentrate on his twirling, while I stand somewhat behind him, and when he somewhat shifts his body to the left, I take it as a signal, to leave. I am back out of the house, and into the driveway, where the truck, is still packed. I get in, and the burly man, turns it on, and begins to drive back, out of the driveway. We are soon out, and on our way back, to somewhere unknown. Much later, we arrive at my place, and as the burly man, drives up the driveway and stops the truck, I get out with him, somewhat unknowingly, and as I begin walking towards the door, his voice rings out and says, "Hey, kid!!", and I turn back, to see him reach in to the back of the truck, and pull out a somewhat big grocery bag, which he walks over with to me, standing near the porch, and hands it firmly, over. I take it, and look in, and see some grocers, and watch him openly and then somewhat, as he walks back to the truck, and begins to get into it. I turn around, and walk up the stairs, and onwards to the door, which I open, and then walk through into. It is later in the evening, when I actually get to putting the grocers, into their place in the kitchen, and having pulled most out, am surprised to find another brown bag, in the grocery bag, carefully folded. I take it out, peek in carefully, and am surprised, if not shocked, to see wads of money, dollar bills, in there. I stand there wondering, and pondering, what it could all mean.
Two weeks later, I am standing in the living space, of the house, I have been living in, for the last few months. My bag is packed, and stands close by me. I am looking around the house, thinking, that I probably, don't really want to leave. Many thoughts are flying through my mind, Kenya even shows up. I look at my watch, and simply begin to wait again. I am standing there, taking the whole scene solemnly, when I somewhat sense a presence, behind me, which I turn to look at, just in time, to see, an image, of Carla Gugino, disappearing, at the kitchen doorway. I stand there, looking at the doorway, somewhat fazed, and really begin, to feel somewhat sad. I look at my watch again, and I see, I still have a good ten minutes, before my taxi shows up, which I called with the phone in the kitchen, about fifteen, minutes ago. As I am standing there, looking at my luggage, and then away, I begin to feel despondent, feeling as if, this is the end. I take in a deep breathe, somewhere standing near the dining set, put my hand on one of its chairs, and slowly, without thinking much, but feeling it, begin to say sing to myself, "This Romeos heart is bleeding", somewhat then stop, feel a little silly, before continuing, "you can't see his blood, its nothing but some feelings, this old dog kicked up", a pause later, I begin singing the song, singing the first verse, before then walking out of the house, somewhat confidently, out of the driveway, to the Taxi out in there waiting, jump into it, sit back and await, the beginning of the journey, which eventually leads me to, California.
The End
