puerto rico: suburb of brooklyn?

Well.

Here I am, after a break from this blog. I haven't liked my past several posts, finding them to be uninspired and downright shitty -- at best. Sometimes words don't want to come out, and instead they sit there, heavy in my chest, like rocks.

I suppose, like everything, words don't always have to be my friends.

But, here I am again, after a break and a trip to Puerto Rico. I've been told not to write about my 'Rican adventures since this is a "New York blog," so instead I'll write about Noo Yawk and stay on topic. Well, sort of. I'm going to write a little about Puerto Rico in this, because it is truly a beautiful place and an amazing one, at that. (To any Puerto Ricans reading this: You are lucky, lucky, lucky to live in such a warm place! Oy!)

So. Puerto Rico. New York City. Related?

Oh yes.

Let me put it this way. My first hour on the island and I'd already met a person from Brooklyn. Born and raised. I hadn't even gotten out of the airport yet and here was someone telling me how B'lyn is their native stomping ground.

Then there was the guy at the Tibes Center outside of Ponce that was from Brooklyn. Born and raised. The man at the gas station my mom had to ask for directions after driving around for several hours trying to find the right highway exit. The kid in downtown Ponce who once hailed from Brooklyn. Born and (partially) raised.

Detecting a pattern here?

When I turned on the tv in my hotel room, the first thing I saw was Channel 7 news, beamed in live from New York. And then ... two more channels of New York goodness. I had to laugh when I saw how crap the weather was in my home state compared to Ponce, but then, after a few minutes, I realized ... wait a second. I'm in Puerto Rico. Where's the local news?!

I finally found it, but by then I had gone through several more channels of babbling New Yorkers. It was an odd feeling, sitting on a bed in the middle of Puerto Rico while watching mainland news.

Anytime someone asked where I was from, my reply of " Brooklyn," was met with smiles and knowing nods. I felt like I came from some sort of suburb of Puerto Rico. People who had never even been there were asking me what part of town I hailed from, more confident in New York geography than me.

It's funny because I always knew there was a large Puerto Rican population in New York, and especially in Brooklyn and the Bronx. Since my neighborhood is mostly Mexican, however, it's easy to forget this fact. My trip reminded me of how international my city really is.

I would go back to Puerto Rico in a heartbeat, and probably will sometime again in the future. Perhaps this time I'll get some good tips on Brooklyn living from the islanders, and learn things about my city that this Btown local doesn't know.

Note: Photos of my Puerto Rico trip can be found at http://community.webshots.com/user/flipinpr

(some) new york things to do.

This post is dedicated to all things NYC. If you're planning a trip here, wish you were, actually live here, or are just curious about NYC, these are things worth checking out.

Culture:
American Ballet Theatre
American Museum of Natural History
Broadway Information
Brooklyn Academy of Music
City Ballet Company
The Cloisters
Dance Theatre of Harlem
Ellis Island Museum
The Frick Collection
Lincoln Center
Metropolitan Museum of Art
Museum Of Modern Art
New York Philharmonic
Off Broadway Online
St. Patrick's Cathedral

Landmarks/Things To Do
Brooklyn Bridge
Brooklyn Botanical Gardens
Brooklyn Naval Yard
Bronx Zoo
Central Park
Central Park Zoo
Chelsea Piers
China Town
Empire State Building
Greenwood Cemetary
Little Italy
Manhattan Bridge
New York Public Library
Olympus Fashion Wek
Prospect Park
Rockefeller Center
South Street Seaport Museum
Statue of Liberty
The Strand Bookstore

Times Square
Trinity Church

Sports
New York Giants
New York Jets

characters from the subway

last exit before the underground.

a beautiful moment

this is a beautiful moment.

a beautiful moment that smells of lightly burnt rubber and whiskey piss.

a beautiful moment of standing and waiting.

on the platform.

standing and waiting.

i don't know the time.

somewhere between 1:15 to 2am, maybe.

i know i left the bar at 1:15.

but ...

no watch on my wrist.

cell phone gets no signal.

no clocks on the wall.

no definite time.

it is so late it is early.

the hour has emptied out the subway system.

there are only four other people waiting on the same platform as me.

two of them are a couple.

they hold hands and kiss and do couple things.

the other one is alone.

like me.

she has an ipod, headphones plugged in, dead expression on her face.

gives a half hearted head shake every now and then.

a passive listener.

and me,

i'm passively watching.

i look over the edge of the platform, down to the rails.

smile at the electric rail. the third one.

the infamous one.

the rail men die on.

there are rats down there.

they like these quiet hours. use them to their full advantage.

running, running, busy little rats.

sniffing at torn mcdonald's soda cups. chewing stale popcorn. ignoring candy wrappers.

you seem some interesting trash down there.

little bits of lives, strewn away.

ready and headed for the gutter.

what the rat's don't get, anyway.

i've learned that watching rats is a way to forecast when a train will arrive.

the big eyed whiskersnouts will run off the track the minute they feel a train approaching.

it's the vibrations.

the big eyed whiskersnouts feel them in their feet.

noise of

(scurryscurry)

and as they scurry away

i scurry forward,

waiting for the sleek train to come take me home.

biographical sketches on late night travelers

baby's momma

across the tracks is a woman with a baby in a stroller.

she isn't looking at it, and it isn't looking at her.

the mother has on large gold earrings.

i can see them from here.

doorknockers. literally.

(do they hurt, i wonder?)

she looks bored. tired.

unprepared to be a mom.

the couple

he is gross.

fat.

not gross because he is fat, but gross because he is acting like a swine would.

kissing his girlfriend.

fondling his girlfriend.

shaking off her shy giggles and coy acts of pulling away from him.

he sees me looking and we make eye contact for a moment.

unexpectedly.

and then he goes back to his girlfriend, only rougher this time.

they sit near me the train ride back to brooklyn.

i catch him looking at me several times and i want to say -- look at your girlfriend instead, mister --

but i don't.

because this is new york. because it's late at night. because, even though i find their actions repulsive, we're bretheren

of the late hour.

old man

he is sleeping with a newspaper over his head.

there is no clearer or more effective method of saying:

leave me alone.

drunk europeans

loud.

arrogant.

all male.

insists the american subway system is dumb because they can't figure out how it operates.

i don't bother trying to explain.

he has paint on his pants

he has a strong face. bold features.

handsome.

he looks like an old aztec god of some sort.

striking.

faintly dangerous.

his hair is graying.

a single golden wedding band on the proper hand.

crucifix on a small delicate chain around his neck.

chapped hands.

closed eyes.

empty paint splattered bucket by his feet.

wearing pants to match.

he wakes up right before his stop.

magical timing.

a very new york movie

Yesterday I watched one of the most visually arresting films I have ever seen. A true New Yorker's movie, Pi (thank you Darren Aronofsky) depicted my city brutally and beautifully -- unromanticized yet lovingly.

I'm not going to sit here and say the movie had no flaws. Because, well, it did. The storyline ended up being stretched to the point of distraction, and at times things got pretty unrealistic. But, -- and this is a big one, -- the film was truly a work of visual art. New York has never looked grittier and more human.

One of the first things that got under my skin (in the most positive way possible) was a scene centered around the New York subway system. It brought to mind every late night experience I've had underground. Eerie, enchanting, dirty. The stranger standing on a platform across the tracks, the need to be aware and alert of everything going on around you ... the fact you're standing underneath tons of earth and skyscraper, sweating and sticky sweet with the smell of fuel and burnt rubber.

(grunge.)

Another wonderful aspect of the film was how claustrophobic everything felt. Sometimes living here is like that. Too many people, too many cars, too many things going on around you. The repeated scenes with seas of foreign faces and cars made me feel like saying ... yes. It is like this. Everyday.

How neighbors interacted was another incredibly New York thing about the film. You hear things. You listen to their lives, every minute detail. You get to know them and love/loathe them. Sometimes they are friends, and sometimes they are enemies.

Ah, so New York. So, very, very New York.

And, folks, this is my entry for today.

Happy New Year.