I'm not that disappointed that they lost, again, because--in the long run--how does it really affect my life whether they win or lose? I won't be any richer if they win the Stanley Cup. My apartment won't cost any less. My job won't pay any more. Rooting for a sports franchise, most times, seems like a complete waste of energy that would be better utilized in any other fashion.
My walk took me down Fulton Street from Nostrand Avenue to Cambridge Place. I used to live near the latter street, so I walked up it to stroll down memory lane. Nostalgia is a silent killer.
Fort Greene is the next neighborhood west of Bedford-Stuyvesant (in which I most unfortunately reside) and it's such a slap in the face that such a beautiful place can be in such close proximity to such a shithole as Bed-Stuy, and also be totally financially out of reach.
Granted, I technically lived in Fort Green five years ago, but it was right at the eastern frontier with the Stuy and it was decidely on the shittiest block in the nabe. That was back when Cambridge Place (a gorgeous few blocks, it is) was right around the corner from me ... Brooklyn is such a hit or miss place; there are gorgeous blocks that are surrounded by utter blight, in almost every neighborhood. Even Bed-Stuy has a bunch of architecturally redeeming blocks, but the denizens make the neighborhood a total drag in which to live.
Anyway, I headed down Gates a while, soaking up the beautiful homes, lamenting my poverty and craving a slice of pizza from a place I used to frequent when I was a Fort Greene resident. My nostalgic sojourn was quashed, though, by the putrid-looking pie at Mario's on Waverly Avenue near Greene.
I actually ordered a piece, though, but then changed my mind before he could even put it in the oven. It wasn't worth forking over any money to eat a five-hour-old piece of pizza, simply because I was trying to relive bad times of yore in the hope of forgetting the bad times of today.
So, I headed up to Lafayette and down it, towards the apex of civilized Brooklyn: Times Plaza. There you'll find the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the Williamsburgh Savings Bank building and the Atlantic Avenue subway and LIRR hub, among other things. Before I got there, though, I cut down S. Oxford to Fulton again and got myself some pizza at Not Ray's (on the corner of S. Portland Street).
Not Ray's was overrun by loud, obnoxious kids and their parents couldn't have cared less about reigning them in; the parents were just as loud and obnoxious. I ate my slice and drank barely half of my Coke before hitting the pavement again.
I made it to the apex of Fulton and Lafayette and decided then that I had no desire to be out in the world. On my way back to the Lafayette Avenue IND station some black guy tried to get my attention, held out his hand like he was looking for a shake and asked me what time it was. I showed him both of my bare wrists and he said:
"All right, man, thanks, but at least you smell good."
People here are insane.
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