deeply eerie moment

As ever, it's the weekend in Loisada and folks are stoop sitting and hanging out by the liquor store and barber shop and blasting music. It's been gospel most of the morning, which is a little unusual, but unsurprsing and pleasant enough, but right now, it's the music from the beginning of Gangs of New York during the procession through the tunnels where the Dead Rabbits live.

You just -- *guh* -- you know... this is just one of those, you have _no_ idea what New York does to me moments.

(no subject)

Okay earlier's eerie moment has given way to a revival meeting in the streets (I think connected with the fliers that came in the mail a couple of weeks ago about getting God's Free Message of HOPE! and planning advice for Armageddon) and I am pissed.

It's not charming, and it's not something I want to hear. Even if I were Christian, even if I didn't have a problem with this type of proselytizing. It's LOUD, and I'm trying to do some serious writing, and I CAN'T THINK.

And I'm about this close to marching down there and grabbing the mic out of someone's hand and telling them to knock it off.

Oh man... crappy electric guitars too playing bluesy spirituals sung in Spanish.

And I am reminded I have always lived at the end of the world, on the bare edges of Manhattan or Brooklyn, where the rules are always a little different the sky glows a bright purple in what passes for night.

Living here, on days like this reminds me I don't have to make the world extraordinary, I just have to find a way to show other people just how extraordinary it is. All that drama and flair and passion, that most people don't believe in, or believe is only for people they don't know... it's all real, it just gets hidden from polite and easy society most of the time.

But man, I wish I could think over the din right now.