My stay in New York, was not as enjoyable, as I had envisioned it would be, probably due to the rather popular erroneous thinking, that New York, is actually, a larger, Montreal {as many in Quebec, or Canada even, would probably think}. New York, often perceived, rather European, as mainly even, with a lot of its architecture, actually does look more, Roman than French. As a result, I felt more of a stranger, than in Montreal, walking along its rather busy streets, and even wondering to myself, what to do really. Having figured myself out, in my workplace, I was left really, to attempt to do the same, outside it, with little forthcoming, other than perhaps, seeing myself, a religious figure of some sort. Work was going well, Jessica had taken to it, to foresee in all really, the development, of the Web Services Internet site, while I walked around New York somehow, seeking to find all forms of elements, to add, to the storytelling, I was creating, based around New York life.
New York today, looks rather ugly to me, as mainly due, to the urban sprawl, that it has bred. A City truly, where most of its peoples, wonder truly, whom they are, and what, to actually do in it, despite having the money, to do as they please. For me, the religion thing somewhat, worked, and the only people I favourably looked upon, as with crossing paths really, were Jamaicans. I guess with trying to fit into the City, I chose to look into its history, and with religion too even, avoiding the Protestant sentiments and sensibilities, that the City did in all espouse, and instead favour, its Quaker past. To me, that was New York romanticized, Quaker history. Protestant New York, on the otherhand, as with it showing off itself, as being rather anglo-saxon in all, was to me, the main problem, of living in the place. In many ways, I was truly looking, to finish up with my work, and possibly head back up, to Montreal, for a repose at least, since I truly, had nothing much to do, in New York. As I began though, reading more, into Quaker history, I decided, it was something worth trying out, it appearing, rather European, as with it even, being rather Dutch really. When I think Dutch, I mostly think Art, and not Religion, with being a Quaker in all to me, being similar somewhat, to espousing, humble lifestyles.
Jessica was enjoying her work, more than I presupposed she would, as with my coming to believe, and see that, she felt rather competent, in the way she went about, doing it all. For me though, doing what I was doing, was not too strenuous, and as a new found Quaker, I began thinking perhaps, of taking trips up, to Boston. What to do, in New York? Rather than perhaps, meet a rather beautiful woman even, and instantly somewhat, gain a social life somehow. I would buy an occasional hotdog, at a Jamaican Hotdog stand, and enjoy, the rather casual conversation, that would ensue, believing Jamaicans, to be most like me, in New York, due generally, to the kind of questions, they often posed, which were of a similar nature, to those, I would too. After a while of this, roaming around somewhat, New York, and looking truly, to find myself in the whole place, I decided, to be highly religious, as with viewing New Yorks populations, from a rather highly religious perspective, this speaking truly, of righteousness, as with truly how, New Yorkers did just about, anything, perceived in a right or wrong manner. The end result, was the seeing, of a City, rather unhappy in its ways, as with its peoples truly, being rather sloppy, in all they did perhaps {and outside work too really}.
I happened to live, at the East End of New York, and nearby, to a Russian Immigrant Enclave, which I took interest in, somehow. I don’t really know Russians, but I do. New York today, is a City, of Neighbourhoods, when pastly, as with size even, it was a City, of Enclaves. To understand this better, and perhaps even, from a Quaker perspective really, an Enclave, is rather highly cultural in its way, in that even, the landscaping, as with truly too even, the flowers abounding, are in all, supposed, to be highly cultural too. Flowers for instance, one would present, to a Russian woman, and not seemingly believe, every woman in New York, seeks out roses, and chocolates too in hand. Russian Immigrants to New York, seem to have understood this, as their enclaves in all, were rather Russian culturally, and rather pleasant too, as with walking across them really. Russian women, can be rather ‘brass’-like, as with the military really, and I believed they questioned, who I was, as I walked around their enclaves, one of the few said minorities, walking in and around, the whole place. Russian men on the otherhand, I knew better, as I could actually, speak to them, but with nothing much really to say. New York, is not what, it seems to be, despite, all the media hullabaloo, about it. Nothing goes on there, but something actually does, which might interest you, or not. It is not, a City for the tough, or hell bent on succeeding, as they tend to say, it being, a rather highly, political place, with the minority in all, highly defined, as with expected behaviour truly. There is nothing much, to do in New York, even with the money, as minorities in all, are perceived, as having no culture truly, other than that, based around hip-hop culture, and rap music in suit. To my European Moor sensibilities, it was a disaster in the making, political, which would eventually, lead to riots and rioting, not absently seen, in New York history either.
Being a Quaker though, proved to be, rather psychologically relaxing even, as New York in most ways, is truly a City, one gets by in, by having, sentiments, or sentimental thoughts really, about others, and being a Quaker, allowed me in all, to view most New Yorkers, as being crass, and from a natural perspective too {meaning that, this was rather ingrained thought really}. Many come to New York, expecting to make it, very few do though, never having realized, that nothing goes on in New York, but something does, and rather political in nature too really. The belief, that New York, is a cultural mecca, is like believing, Nairobi, to be the financial center, of the World. They have Museums in New York, carrying strange art, modern like, and it all, rather creepy even, to look at, with the exception truly, of photography, which is the only art, that truly exposes, New York, humanely perhaps, and from a rather political stance too, and not, religious even. Having deciphered New York as such, I was ready to leave it.
Before my leaving though, certain interesting incidents, did happen. One, I got involved, as with shopping really, in an interesting escapade {which is how, life in New York, is truly lived}, when a fella, in the store I was shopping at, came over to me, a minority, brownskinned too, and said “Yo, someone wants to get with you”. I not for rap speak, and the main reason, I truly hate America, turned around, to look out, and saw to my surprise, another brownskinned minority, waving at me, to whom on meeting, having recognized his features, omani, I decided, to finish up on my shopping, and have a small chat. I am not the kind, to take too nicely, to omanis, thinking them, to be filled, with too much bullshit, on just about anything out there. “Weh, come here” he begins to say to me, “I want to say something to you….”. A smile forced out of my rather taut mouth now, as his voice somewhat drawled off, as he somewhat too looked behind, through the car window, at something out there. In a mixed up Omani and Swahili accent, he says to me “here, call me, or email me, here..” while handing me, a card of some sort. I take the card, somewhat look at it, while feeling somewhat, sensitized, of others being aware really, of our interaction. I take the card. And then somewhat say to him “haya, basi”. Conversation over, we both move on. The man, turned out to be called, George Lopez, to which, I could not help but force a smile, at an omani, masquerading, as puerto rican. “I want to talk to you…”, is what his email had somewhat said, “I need some help.” I didn’t know what to think of all this, not ever wanting really, to be mixed up in omani business of any kind, knowing them, to be magicians, and of the disappearing trick kind too. George, or George Lopez, apparently, wanted me to know, of a woman, who had an interest in me. Being ‘hooked up’ by an omani, and in New York too, is something I never did truly expect to happen to me, on my worst day, or finest even, as based on the dictates, of any religion I was acquainted with. “Who is this..?” I ask him, somewhat expecting, a top socialite New Yorker, for no unknown reason really. He hands me a photo, of a minority woman, brownskinned, and looking fat too, to which I ask, what to do with it. I have an idea, on how to live in New York, judging it all, to be somewhat at the very least, based on music, as with it, driving one in all, to go out there, and do something. My music of choice, was Opera, Italian, and more of the Baroque nature, as with singing even, in ones shower, while amusing oneself really. “Sasa, what is this…”, I ask George, George Lopez again, as he somewhat states, that she wants to marry me. He takes back the photo, and hands me another, of a white woman now, and then says “what about this one…” I look at George, with a smile on my face, and now seeing him again, as George Lopez, and somewhat say to him, hesitatingly “so now, ….. you want to wezesha me?!” “Look man” he says to me, “just give it a try, call one of them, and see what happens”. George already thinks, he knows me psychologically, as with his believing, I will truly call, the white woman, as with there even really, being a white woman even, to speak off. I don’t know, what to do or think, of the whole situation, as with my judging truly, both the women, from the music, I would believe, they both listen to really, I listening to Opera on one hand, the brownskinned woman to hip hop, and the white woman, to classical maybe, or some pop even. That’s how in general, I believe I do unconsciously, judge women in North America, very much, based on the kind of music, they would flow too. One week later, I did call, the white woman, after George sending me an email, saying “don’t forget to call, its important for business”.
I have a Pavarotti CD, I often listen to, as with pretending to sing along with it really, and one, I do see, as with being unsettled even, as I sit in a couch, in an apartment condo, owned by Natalie, the woman, white, I chose to call. Most don’t truly know, how hard, it is to strike up a conversation, with a New Yorker woman, even if, she is the one, who brings it forth. Its more like a stare contest, with one wondering truly, what to say, or even, when to say it too really. Congratulate her, for her fine taste in furniture? Not truly, the best idea, as with her, seeing all that, as a basic intelligence, of a kind. I did not truly know, what I was getting myself into, doing all this, believing it all, an experiment of a kind, believing too, I could walk out of it all, rather, too easily. Not so. When a New Yorker woman, is interested in you, it is not, what you actually think it is, as with she perhaps, already engaged to you somewhat, and you on the otherhand, yet to figure this out distinctively. I think of George, as we try to force out conversation between us, wondering why in sams hell, he would think, me and her, would get along at all. She is American, in a way I don’t truly recognize: Big Band and Broadway, with a preppy hint, to it all. I on the otherhand, am Opera and Imagination, with an avante-garde twist, to it all too really. Natalie, scaringly enough, is interested in me, actually interested in me, as with what one would probably think, if told, Madonna, wanted to date one. New York, is kind of high-profile that way, with most truly not knowing, what to say to its elite classes, other than appear bemused, at any attention, showered towards one. I do think the name, Madonna, true blue Madonna, and for a reason, am caught up in a spasm of a kind, as with even truly believing, I am somewhat, as with still, in love with her. Its dumb, thinking like this I reckon to myself, unaware first, and then aware truly, that Natalie, might be watching me rather closely, as I think really. Natalie, is not like Madonna, true blue Madonna, but more like Mariah Carey, in her ways and manners. Madonna I think again, true blue, and the love affair, that could have changed the world, me, New York, and even, probably, God himself. I guess, I forgot New York this way, not knowing, where to put it, from the Enclave, Minority, or even, Quaker perspective too really, and thinking it, perhaps all music and Broadway, as with New Yorks, often undeciphered really, Music Industry, but with it actually, being just about everywhere out there, with New York, probably having the most, number of Music CD stores, per capita, in the whole wide world. Later on, after leaving Natalie, driven away by taxi, I do make a mental note, as with excitement really, to ask George Lopez, as with him, being rather sophisticated even, if he knows Madonna. Asking all this, as if, its still in the 80’s, and with George Lopez, seeking to hang up on me, as with dropping the phone even.
Everything at ‘Chez Montreal’, was going rather fine, with Jessica I believe really, starting to believe perhaps, I should be doing more, as with my perhaps really, being able even, to deal with any technical difficulties, rather more swiftly, than I imagined I could really. I choosing, to see such difficulties, more from the cultural perspective, as with the user of ‘Chez Montreal’, or even, the work culture, associated with any company, whose hardware or software, we might use, with my believing, the Computer Industry, to best function, at an entrepreneurial level, and not, at the industry or big business level. Jessica seems abit disoriented, at my rather too fast answers, which eventually, I proceed, to somewhat slow down {as with my pretending even, to think rather hard really too, about it all really}.
You must be my lucky star
‘Cause you shine on me wherever you are
I just think of you and I start to glow
And I need your light
And baby you know
Starlight, star bright first star I see tonight
Starlight, (star bright) make everything all right………..
Oh yeah!!!
It is this tune really, that somewhat carries me along, as I begin to somewhat date Natalie, as with being guided too along, by George Lopez, on everything to do, when out there. We don’t do much really, me being non-committal really too, but lucky for me, the scene, is actually International in nature, and I do get to see, people from all over, including Europeans who, in any other part of the World I would, probably, get into a fight, of a kind with. I got to meet, Princess Madeleine of Sweden, twice, with the first time, registering, on my memory only really, and the second, being more, of the escapade type. Natalie, to my embarrassment even, had notified me, I could leave a party, she was attending early on, if I liked, with my looking at her, as if she was crazy, to interact as such with me. To my luck though, if not my outright concern really, she furtherly told me, I could leave, with her friend Mandy. Mandy, blond, rather high profile too, was the kind of woman, I found gorgeous, but did not have too much interest in really, seeing her, living in a distant world, far away from mine. She was even perhaps, Governors Office New York, but pleasing to look at, along the lines, of a Caroline Spencer in the ‘Bold and the Beautiful’. I left the party, having talked to a Ned, finding myself interestingly enough, rather able in all, to talk to New Yorker men, at a comfortable pace, but not truly trusting their intentions, as with the conversations, not carried truly, at serious levels. On that night though, I jumped into a limo, with Mandy, and was surprised, to see two other occupants, jump in with me; European, one being Danish, and the other, Princess Madeleine herself. In a limo, with none other, than the Duchess of Hälsingland and Gästrikland, Madeleine Therese Amelie Josephine, or privately even to her friends, and me too along mentally that is,.................................’Madde’.
I don’t really get along, with Europeans, having not truly formally spoken to them, perhaps since, the end of the reign, of Napoleon II. They kind of went African since, but looking at Madde, as if conspicuously even, I can’t help but think, of Europe, as it once was really. Madeleine, who appears, to not even have seen me, is joined along for the ride, by a Danish friend, wealthy, if not of the billionaire class, going by the name, rather recognizable to me {as with its intonation perhaps really}, of Karen. Karen is a blond too, all three, are actually all blonds really. Madde seated, looking out of the window, Karen, interestingly enough, directly opposite me ahead, and she looking as if, not aware of my presence, and finally, as with a slight turn to the head, Mandy, looking somewhat too, out of her window, and my avoiding, looking at her reflection, on the window pane too. I somewhat immediately, think Madonna for some reason, and even mistakenly really, find myself whistling, true blue, as with even, wanting to sing it really. I actually do, impromptu, but remain silent again, on realizing Karen, to somewhat move. I kind of find myself, wanting to talk to all three, if not Madde, and when Mandy, does ask me, where she could drop me off, as with my slightly being offended at this, due to my not knowing well, New York, I kind of take all this, as an opportunity, to hold conversation, if not talk outrightly, atleast, with ‘Madde’, having spoken to Mandy, several times before all this. Princess Madeleine, or even, ‘Princess Padeleine’, as I have been wont, to call her, or even too, “panda panda”, when my European Moor sensibilities, do kick in, believing in all truly, the Princess, to love or like, Pandas, in general. I sense some discomfort from Mandy, which I don’t like, and looking at Karen, do find myself saying “You….”, which leads, to a grand pause even, as ‘Madde’ too, with Mandy somewhat, turn to look at me. I take advantage of this, break in proximities, to look Mandy somewhat quickly, and ‘Madde’ too even, before saying, “New York is…..” to a somewhat stare on their behalf, “You,…...have beautiful eyes”, it does, eventually, come out. Karen somewhat, widens her eyes, as if even, to warn me, while I snappingly, look at Mandy, while ‘Madde’ now, turns to look at Karen, as if to ask her, a question. “You know” I somewhat begin again, looking again at Karen, somewhat wide eyed too, “I used to live in Europe once”. “Really” is what Mandy says, “Yes” I do find myself, even encouragingly saying, as with shaking my head, somewhat visibly, and staring again “you know they say,….I was once married, to Catherine the Great”. Mandy does somewhat look at me, as I go silent, with everyone else, seeking to shake their head somewhat. I kind of know, blond women, more than they think I do. Mandy for instance, appearing impenetratable, even to me somewhat, I know, is the kind of blond woman, that likes for one, to care for them, rather than treat them well. This is true though in general, of white women, who prefer and want to, be cared for, rather than, the erroneous belief, in treating them well really. On her worst side, I do imagine her, a stalker, if I was to touch her right, by deeply caring for her, as I am capable off {with most other men out there, taking the treatment thing, to extremes}. I forget Mandy though, knowing she to be too political, and turn to Karen, who stares even disbelievingly at me, for looking or glancing even really, at Mandy, and I somewhat, see myself looking at Karen, knowing what kind, of blond woman, she truly is: a fetishist. The kind, to openly even, talk about my brown skin, or even my coiled hair too, and perhaps even, my big head too also. The kind too, that would lock me up, and never let me, go away, with the exception, of actually truly perhaps, running away really. “Madde’ I turn too somewhat, looking at her, and thinking too even of her sister, the Crown Princess, as I kind of see her, the kind of blond woman, to want to kill me, outrightly even, if I was ever, to expose any secret, about her. The kind of blond woman, afraid to show, any attraction towards me perhaps, fearing, I may not return, the same kind of intimacy, in any way really. I think of Sweden, and Madonna too somewhat for no good reason really, but find myself eventually saying “Princess…Victoria…, she……”, a long pause even, as I somewhat sniffle, before my saying again, “she……, I think she likes me, or would like me even” “You guys are rather silent”, all this said, eyes widening, as Mandy turns towards me as if to even state something, “you guys you know, are the most beautiful women in New York maybe”. I look at Mandy, as if to apologize, but look too, as if I meant everything I said, before my saying again “you know who I would fight……..Carl Philip”, that being, Princess Madeleines, brother, and the Duke of Värmland, and the only Prince, whose title I believe, I should somewhat hold, or even share with, as with perceived, historical humour really.
I did exit the limo, at a desired exit, Mandy having seen to it, I was dropped off, nearby, to where I did live. While exiting though, I did even profusely, apologize to Mandy, something she did not know, what to do with, or handle even, and before my exiting, I did even clearly state, that someone did try, to kill Catherine the Great, while I was married to her, and since then, I had developed, a phobia, for relationships in general. I again, reiterated my apologies, to Mandy, and to Natalie too even, as if I was truly on the wrong in everything that, had happened, blaming it all, on the overwhelming emotions, evoked, by the beauty at hand. I did this, by sending both of them, notes or letters really, of a kind, something I enjoy doing, sending a beautiful woman, a note or letter, in which, she is at the praise level end, and I, a miserable creature even, who even truly really, has no right, doing as such. On other such outings, this time via George Lopez, I did happen to meet, or see really, Natalie again, she becoming more rare, around me, ever since I somewhat befriended perhaps, Mandy, as someone, I could speak too, about anything bothering me, within their midsts. I was beginning, to love New York somehow, mainly due, to hanging around George, speak a lot of crap even, that made sense, but was rather truly, confusing in all. George believed, New Yorks problems, economic, which nobody else who dared or bothered to listen in to him, believed in really. To them all, New Yorks problem, was somewhat perceived political, as with the Mayors Office, and the Attorney General too, and a heavy handed game, of race baiting, in a New York though, many did not perceive minority filled, as with even, some of the white populations, polish for instance, regarded as minorities too, and as compared really, to those who saw it all, as a form of a colour barrier. George though, spoke of an economic revival, most I perceived, did not care to know about, as they could make, the money they even needed, in other States, outside New York, and then bring it all in. George, seemed to reason a lot, like a Puerto Rican. Walking along the Streets of New York, somewhat enjoying myself, as with even, wanting to break out, into a Fred Astaire, kind of dance, while playing back in my head, Madonna’s, Cherish, I could not but help think, I had figured out somewhat, what ailed really even, New York truly {ah!!....Madonna, and the love affair, that was meant to be; an affair, that could probably, have changed the World, if not, the nature of religion itself}. While at a party, George for some reason had asked me to attend, and via taxi too, I did happen to espy, upon others, of New Yorks star circuit, a certain Carla Gugino, who was walking around, talking to those I believe, she deemed in all, as being interesting, if not, straight out peculiar, and upon my seeing her, talk to just about anybody, began to make my way, in a circular route within the hall, right, outside, her reach.
I had figured out New York somewhat, and it truly had to do, with its failed attempt, at assimilating, its various outside populations. This was all too easy, the way I came to see New York, one of Enclaves originally, but now Neighbourhood filled, with lots of political issues, teeming up. I guess, I approached all this, more along the lines, of a Cultural Analyst, which somewhat went well enough, with my Quaker bred thoughts, on just how, New York should function. It was all too easy maybe. New York, filled with Enclaves, and not Neighbourhoods really, and how to bring people together, based around, its Music and Musical/Drama environments. The catch though was, as with attempting or pretending, to assimilate, so many minorities into New York, the level of interaction and associating in the City, had gone down, to that of, seeking out, as with thought really, the interesting, in anything really out there. New York, had lost its sensual ways, as perhaps with mastering something, and its former Music and Musical Drama environments, and along the lines of Fred Astaire, had heavily been based, on hearing, as with sensuality really. This is rather difficult, to see truly really, as hearing, is not the easiest sense, to philosophize really, as compared to touch, intuition, or even ‘eye sight’. To me, the peoples in New York, could only be brought together, by the right mix even, of sounds perhaps, which nobody, even I, could probably envision {other than hearing, the voice of Madonna, surprisingly enough, at a party attended}. I somewhat made this clear to George, who did not truly see what I was talking about, but his curiosity peeked, he did ask me, to write down my thoughts, and send them to him, via email, with my now, seeing him less regularly, due partly really, to a fight, that broke out, between him, and me alongside him somewhat, and a gang too, of African and Carribean youth, out to start something. Brownskinned youth, which kind of made me aware, that people around me, kind of wondered perhaps, who I was.
In all really, New York, attempting to assimilate its minority populations, did not have the political will really, to do so, and even lacked, the structures too, to support them all. New York, from the days of Fred Astaire, Madonna even, and general environments, where one heard, the most inspiring perhaps, of conversations, or music even, had fallen down, to a level, where people sought out, the interesting, as with thought really {and all this, just too reminiscent, of Africa itself}. One should know, that when the interesting, becomes a bore, as with criminal elements even, it turns into, crime, violence, and even drugs too really. New Yorks Minority cultures, truly African and Carribean, were at the very heart, of all this, and in all, as with musing to George Lopez, about various cultural scenes envisioned, New Yorks problems, were much more larger, than they seemed, with the worst case scenario, of rioting, really impacting, New York, in ways, most, would not like {as with its downfall even}.
George Lopez, took my advice, and decide to hold, a Masquerade ball, with him right in the middle of it, which I did hear, kind of turned out, to be somewhat, of fun, in a New York really, as with the past, where comments made by another, about one or someone one knew, would lead, to a fight, a brawl to be exact, which are the kind of fights, one actually, gets to hear about. New York had many problems, with Africa seemingly, at the very heart, of them all.
End of Part 4……………
