I can't believe how this thing in the gulf of mex keeps getting worse and worse. You guys who usually check in on me here, could you post up some answers to this for me?
If your city disappeared tomorrow, what would you miss?
I'd miss the fragile, casual, snotty NY irreverence we've tried so hard to hold on to since 2001 (Year of our collective wake-up call)
I'd miss Lupe's and Elora's and Tea Leaf coffeehouse in the Slope
I'd miss Brooklyn sidewalk sales
I'd miss the park (Prospect. Central, too, I guess.), especially the lake and the drum circles, watching little kids boogie down in the dust and big fat ladies shaking their mega-groove-thangs, and everyone's having a good time. Sometimes I wonder what a suicide bomber would think of such a scene. Would he take out his stabber and start striking down infidels, or would he tap his foot and look at the okayness and think that maybe this wasn't the Great Satan or whatever nonsense they're on about if all these folks can eat bbq chicken and dance like fools on summer weekend afternoons without setting anyone on fire or crying over tiny corpses or whatever terrorists like to watch for fun and personal growth? Ugh. HATE.
I'd miss the NY Public Library - all the branches, even the ratty ones, because you walk in and it smells so safe and filled with all possibilities. Whether you need ideas for new window treatments or you want to read Aristotle, you can find real answers. And movies.
I'd miss (hell, I do miss) the rastas in Washington Square.
I'd miss belonging here, at least
To me, the main thing is that there's a certain joie that you can maintain, as long as a certain amount of what you love is saved. After 9/11 we all wondered, I think, what would become of this old, dirty bitchy old queen of a city, but we just gathered up our size-fourteen Fredericks of Hollywood heels and our LouisV knockoff from Chinatown and we fixed our powder and hiked up the falsies and ignored the terror level colorwheel and kept on keeping on. We were able to do that because there was enough left. Enough untainted ground, enough space, enough will to fight, enough anger and bloody-minded capitalistic will to power-walk. This is what frightens me about New Orleans. How bad can you beat a grinning old bawd before she can't sing or smile or dance anymore? If you manage to put her back together with steel pins and send her to a halfway house and get her a job at Walmart washing the lino, then what?
New Orleans and Baton Rouge constitute the largest shipping port in the country. Before too long, someone's going to find a way to put the big pieces back together, but who will be in charge? Will the restaurants reopen? Will the Preservation House? Will there be music coming from every doorway? Will they remember to drape the trees with years'-worth of Mardi Gras beads? Will they keep in mind that even though it's a nuisance and a disgrace, that drunken fools on Bourbon Street ought to be able to carry a giant takeaway cup of Rum Hurricane? Who will have the heart to stress that New Orleans was once called 'the safety valve of the South'? Will coporate streamlining and disaster relief and the cost of a barrel of oil leave room for the moldy old history and the million-calorie dinner at a four-star restaurant where you can walk out of the dining room in your best evening gear with a plastic cup of sixteen dollar brandy, and just go strolling down the street?
If your city disappeared tomorrow, what would you miss?
I'd miss the fragile, casual, snotty NY irreverence we've tried so hard to hold on to since 2001 (Year of our collective wake-up call)
I'd miss Lupe's and Elora's and Tea Leaf coffeehouse in the Slope
I'd miss Brooklyn sidewalk sales
I'd miss the park (Prospect. Central, too, I guess.), especially the lake and the drum circles, watching little kids boogie down in the dust and big fat ladies shaking their mega-groove-thangs, and everyone's having a good time. Sometimes I wonder what a suicide bomber would think of such a scene. Would he take out his stabber and start striking down infidels, or would he tap his foot and look at the okayness and think that maybe this wasn't the Great Satan or whatever nonsense they're on about if all these folks can eat bbq chicken and dance like fools on summer weekend afternoons without setting anyone on fire or crying over tiny corpses or whatever terrorists like to watch for fun and personal growth? Ugh. HATE.
I'd miss the NY Public Library - all the branches, even the ratty ones, because you walk in and it smells so safe and filled with all possibilities. Whether you need ideas for new window treatments or you want to read Aristotle, you can find real answers. And movies.
I'd miss (hell, I do miss) the rastas in Washington Square.
I'd miss belonging here, at least
To me, the main thing is that there's a certain joie that you can maintain, as long as a certain amount of what you love is saved. After 9/11 we all wondered, I think, what would become of this old, dirty bitchy old queen of a city, but we just gathered up our size-fourteen Fredericks of Hollywood heels and our LouisV knockoff from Chinatown and we fixed our powder and hiked up the falsies and ignored the terror level colorwheel and kept on keeping on. We were able to do that because there was enough left. Enough untainted ground, enough space, enough will to fight, enough anger and bloody-minded capitalistic will to power-walk. This is what frightens me about New Orleans. How bad can you beat a grinning old bawd before she can't sing or smile or dance anymore? If you manage to put her back together with steel pins and send her to a halfway house and get her a job at Walmart washing the lino, then what?
New Orleans and Baton Rouge constitute the largest shipping port in the country. Before too long, someone's going to find a way to put the big pieces back together, but who will be in charge? Will the restaurants reopen? Will the Preservation House? Will there be music coming from every doorway? Will they remember to drape the trees with years'-worth of Mardi Gras beads? Will they keep in mind that even though it's a nuisance and a disgrace, that drunken fools on Bourbon Street ought to be able to carry a giant takeaway cup of Rum Hurricane? Who will have the heart to stress that New Orleans was once called 'the safety valve of the South'? Will coporate streamlining and disaster relief and the cost of a barrel of oil leave room for the moldy old history and the million-calorie dinner at a four-star restaurant where you can walk out of the dining room in your best evening gear with a plastic cup of sixteen dollar brandy, and just go strolling down the street?
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