same shit new hat in 2025

2024 was -- happy, sad, bad, glad, great, late, efficient, debilitating. These words that kinda rhyme-ish don't do justice to how chaotic this year was.

You would think that based off of people's IG dumps and their captchas that everyone had a weird year. I don't think that's necessarily true. We're getting to the age where a year full of ups and downs is just the new normal. Not so much different from mine in that aspect, but the same in the fact that it did happen.

This post is more of a double-trouble kind of deal since I already let my feelings out on my private insta (yes we're still doing finsta's in 2025), but as a more solidified way of expressing my thoughts and things, this blog shall serve, as a conduit!

I lost plenty of friends last year. No brainer. I think in that I had a lot of time to look at myself as a man, an individual and assess where I stood in all of my relationships. My ex-gf who I still love dearly and am still close (enough) with and I were on the outs and I'd not really adjusted to living in Washington just yet. I didn't (well, still don't) love the people that I have to deal with on a daily basis. Mainly at my place of employment, which, if you haven't noticed, you spend majority of your time at during the week. For me, all of those things colliding all at once was not a good combo at all. Talk about a humongous L.

But in those times at the bottom, where the only place to go is up, you have moments of clarity. And they add up. Going to school in Arlington all those years ago and having pre-existing relationships played in my favor at a degree I wasn't expecting. Lighting a fire under those same relationships that hadn't been tended to during my time in New York was a great thing. Then you realize you have more and more people you know from your actual alma mater who live around you and want to grab a coffee and catch up. And then you join a rec soccer league on a whim and think you're Maradona for a few weeks. And then you realize that Baltimore is a train ride away, or that Philly is just a short Amtrak?

Things started to make sense after a while. You get into the groove of biking to the market on Saturday mornings and stumbling into a museo for an hour or so just because (or to see the only ever Expressionist exhibit from Paris that will only be in the US for the foreseeable future), going to Shaw or the plaza and seeing legends spanning from Pooch to Darren Harper, having a few at your local, linking the next day with some folks to watch the games at another bar; you can kinda see where I'm going. 

It'll be 2 years here in a few months. The time has flown by for both good and bad reasons. I don't necessarily relish the negative moments, but I do find solace in knowing that when I thought I was truly alone, that I wasn't alone at all. That's thanks in part to a large list of people that I have no business naming because 1. they don't read this blog and 2. it's not that deep. But also it's thanks in part to me for not giving up on trying to make sense of what my life was then, and even now, and moving accordingly. 

Everything, in fact, does happen for a reason. 

Quebecois For A Moment

 The art of solo traveling is that you are alone. Quite literally. You have to plan what it is you're going to do day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Maybe not as far as that, but the point remains. You have to deal with the customs agent wondering why some random American is coming to their country for vacation, language barriers between you and the taxi drivers, not getting hit by a car while you're there (this happened to me last winter in Longueuil), amongst other things.

But once you past that, you're there. Your mileage may vary, but you're there. That could mean a plethora of things. It could mean anything in between you finding a bar that you go to every night during your stay or a cafe that you make your acquaintance to for their fresh western omelettes. The world is yours it seems. Time moves slightly slower. It's as if you're an NPC character that is on the loading screen of your favorite RPG. 

My fascination with Canada, and Montreal specifically, is not nascent. When Trump won the presidency in 2016, I joked with my mum about how we should pack the entire family up and move there. But even before that conversation, there was always this myth and grandeur that flooded my mind about what went on across the border. I've heard horror stories from childhood friends about crossing into Vancouver from Washington State as adolescents and getting chased by border patrol. They're still alive to tell the tale by the way..

It probably all started with me being such a huge hockey fan and following the Canadian teams in the NHL since high school. You start to learn about the legends: Patrick Roy, Gretzky, Jean Beliveau, The Rocket Richard. And the myth grows! Where are these fuckers from? What about their hometowns have made them so legendary? 

Years would go by before I would travel to Canada for the first time, with Montreal being the city that my girlfriend and I picked. The French aspect of the city makes you feel like you are in Europe. Zone Petione. Arret. The old town is straight out of the 1800's for all we know. Le gens are extraordinarily accommodating, having the mental edge of being able to switch effortlessly from French to English for someone who studied Spanish all throughout their schooling. The city itself is, unironically and without trying to sound like a fucking loser, a melting pot. You really just have to get there to see what I'm talking about. 

What in the Helen of Troy is going on?

 Well, well, well...

It has occurred to me that I've been in DC aka the District of Columbia aka Drama City for a little over a year now. How time flies! 

I am going to be honest-- I hated it here for the first few months. Part of that is due to naivety. Leaving a place like New York, you are kind of drunk, for a lack of better words, wherever you land. Wait, beer goggles! That's what I wanted to say. You know, the feeling where you are on top of the world in a sense, and then come back to reality once you snap out of it. That essentially sums up what it was like living here for about 5-6 months. The bars didn't stay open until 4. The people never took off their sports coats. The yuppies never stopped talking about mortgage rates. It's an amazing thing in the worst of ways that you actually have to be here to understand it.

But then you accept the fact that you live somewhere that's different, and that is completely normal. Better yet, that there is nothing wrong with living where you do. I ran into someone from VCU that I hadn't seen since we graduated in 2019, and she shared some of the same pains that I did when she moved to DC in 2020. "Yuppiesville USA" may or may not have been the term that was used in that convo at some point.

It's nice here, ya know, once you can appreciate it for what it is. Unfortunately, the government isn't going anywhere. And by that I mean the (wo)men that parade their $500 suits and speed in the AMGs in residential neighborhoods are not going anywhere. Fine. I never liked them, and I probably never will. But underneath that gaudy exoskeleton of transplants (guilty) that give this place a terrible reputation that it often deserves lies something more universal, even desirable to those who wish to live in a vibrant, multicultural and decently sized place with plenty of shit to do. The amount of ethnic eateries, albeit scattered throughout, is innumerable. Ethiopian. Afghani. Salvadoran. Mexicana. Thai. Indian. They're everywhere! Then there's the people, but not the ones that I mentioned before. Folks that have interesting jobs outside of the public sector or contracting that you see at your local watering hole and speak with you instead of at you. They'll tell you about how they moved here from Syracuse in the 80's and never made it back there for some reason, or revel about their hometown in Czechia while y'all are out slamming beers a day or two before they go back. 

There are worse places than DC. Plenty. On the flip, there probably aren't as many places that can tick as many boxes as DC does, aside from other major cities. Reliable public transit, big city feel with less square mileage, world class museums, etc. etc. I was doing myself a disservice trying to make my neighborhood experience in Northeast like it was in Bushwick. It's just not possible. And admitting that is and was the first step I had to take in order to get to where I am today. Someone who does not only tolerate, but is comfortable and relatively enjoys, where they live, after living in the greatest city in the US. If you were to ask me how I was doing 6 months ago, I would be nowhere near close to even mentioning the word "tolerate". 

So the story goes. I will continue enjoying my personal Paris of the US, my clean Metro, my NB 725s, and all of the things that have gotten me here up to this point. I've no clue when my time here will come to an end, or what's next after this. But I'm over setting timelines on shit like this. They're infuriating and waste time, time that I could be using drinking a glass of $5 vinho verde from Trader Joes. So there's no "au revoir" this time. Simply a "plus tard", again, again, and again. 

And that's, just fine. 

Goodbye...really?

 As of late, I have been thinking "Why did Joan Didion write "Goodbye to all of that"...?". I feel as if this is an archaic idea of mine; she wrote it in 1967, and everyone knows that the gist of the essay/short story/whatever you want to call it is that yes, you can stay too long at the fair. I get that part. Dare I say, WE get that part. So, that's not the part that I've been pondering for what seems like months now. I'm honestly still trying to construe a sentence, a statement, a stream of thoughts that can really describe what I have been thinking, but all I can come up with is "is there really anything to say goodbye to?". It's not elegant. Not at all. But, it's the best that I can do.

A TLDR of her essay is that after 8 years in New York, the city lost it's shine. Her husband had already moved to LA and she'd been to one too many parties. Ok. Unbeknownst to her at the time, she would be able to afford to keep a home in Manhattan while living in California full time. In the literal sense, there was really nothing she was saying "goodbye" to. Instead, it was really a "see ya later". That's too easy of a deduction, and too literal for my tasting for it to be the answer to my question. 

When you leave a place, you never really are gone. The ghosts of your tempered past lie wherever they may. It could be the bridge you walked across to get to work, the coffee shop you frequented on your lunch break, the park you sat in every spring time, you name it. When I think of the few places I've lived after leaving Chesterfield, it's always "I'll be back when I can make it, when I have the time...", but never a cold turkey "goodbye to all of that". There are pieces of you that you leave in those places. My interest in Latin American history piqued in La Republica and Las Condes. My love for skateboarding is rooted in skating around the Chesterfield Towne Center with the Class Fam (if you know, you know). My keen desire to live in a bustling, thriving city where everything is connected one way or another was born in Brooklyn. The trips I took as a kid to see my extended family in Maryland made it so I loved public transit. I can still remember sitting on those dingy plastic-cloth mesh seats that WMATA continues to use to this day. 

You can't say "goodbye" to a place that still lives inside you, at least I think. If you think about it, there's a little piece of every place you've ever been wherever you go. 

So this brings me back to my original question: is there really anything to say goodbye to? There has to be, since most things have a beginning and an end. But when it comes to lived experiences, those moments that are plastered in your mental? Those are forever. 

Hasta La Raiz, 2k23

 Well, well, well...

Much like a Spotify Wrapped, the end of the year comes unknowingly, in a burst, and leaves very little room for preparation. Aside from the fact that you know that it's coming, but unaware of the actual day, or time.

Where can one start? The war in Ukraine is still going on, the war in Gaza is still going on, and plenty of other wars that we don't and probably won't hear about in the news are still going on. Sudan, the Congo, Yemen, Syria, the lot. The United Nations struggles to come to an accord on how to actually put an end to any of these longstanding conflicts, aside from from throwing lots of money towards initiatives that work, until they don't. It sucks that we wake up everyday reading WaPo, NYT, FT, Forbes, whatever, seeing headlines about how fucked up the world is. Boring take, yes. It rings true, though. As of late, I've definitely noticed that I've not been interested in digging deep into news articles as much as I would have in the past. Learning that you can OD on news? News to me. Pun intended. 

Anyways, let's get to the real year in review. Moved from New York to DC. I don't regret it, most days at least. There are plenty of things that I miss that I wish I could've just stuck in my pocket and brought with me. My problem is that I've earnestly tried to make my experience in The District the same as it was up north. That's just not possible. And it's taken me months to realize that. All for the better, albeit a little bit later than I expected. My job here is a job. Nothing special or anything to brag about, just like any other job that I've had. What I will say though, is that it's been good for my professional development. But who cares about that shit in their late 20's anyway? 

There are some choice things to appreciate about this city. The museums are free, which is also super corny, but it is nice being able to go to the Renwick on your lunch break. My local breakfast spot is dirt cheap. The metro is clean. People, sometimes, smile at you when you are running on the trail. It's like one huge town of almost 700,000 people.

But, speaking of people, the lot of them suck. Brown nosers are everywhere. The ladder climbers. The Hill Bros. It's unspeakably annoying being surrounded by suits all of the time. I've also gotten the most amount of parking tickets in my life being here for what, 7 months? Parking police here walk with their dicks hanging out. They're seriously the worst. 

Then there's the inequality, the tent towns, overpriced brunches, plenty of other shit to complain about it. All in all, this place is, for a lack of better words, interesting.

New York will always be a quintessential place to be. I'd be lying if I wasn't trying to make my way back their one day, but we'll see how the cards play out.

I went back to Montreal, learned some french, drank lots of beer, walked from one side of the city to the other, and really experienced the Joie de Vivre. 

I got kicked out of El Bar in Philly for speaking spanish, went to see Le Tigre in Baltimore, made plenty of trips to Richmond, moved into my first apartment dolo in DC. It's been a year, to say the least. 

I've laughed, cried, broken multiple skateboards, popped open plenty of bevs, taken tons of photos, sat on the Amtrak at 2 am going down the grease coast, spent the most time I have with my family in over 3 years, went to therapy (bc it's free at my job, don't trip), and, most importantly, have found solace in myself. 

There's not really much meat in this post. It's more, like, a rant of the squiggles that roll around my brain. 

To end, I've learned a lot about myself and those around me in the last year. The good, the bad. I find respite in knowing that even with the grandiose amount of change from this year, it's still been a good one. Change is quite uncomfortable, I can't lie. But, it teaches you *insert any cliche lesson here*.

Here's to 2024 and whatever it brings. I pray to God that I don't see any of you at Helen's on New Years. 

The Art of the Interview / Shutdown Shit

 As we all get older, we start to wonder "is this how interviews were supposed to be?"

I mean, I remember my first job after VCU only being one interview, and then starting work in no more than 2-3 weeks.

Every on I've had after that? One interview with the office heads, then one with their director. Then you wait for a response for a few weeks. Then you get offered the job. A process that often can take 1-2 months, depending on when you hear back from the initial job announcement. 

Is this what we signed up for? This reminds me of that one video that the dude from Blue's Clues made about why he left the show. No, it's not bc he went to jail, even though we all thought he did. It was because he went to university. Oh the irony. Or is better to say, similarity? Syntax isn't important right now.

One thing that I've learned about the art of the interview is you kind of have to be having an out of body experience. Rather than being possessed by the ghost that haunts your living space or whatever, you almost have to be everybody but yourself. You have to do whatever it takes for you to embody whatever mundane qualities that they're looking for (mundane, because there are only so many different ways to ask the same question about the same thing for 20-30 minutes.) Eye contact matters. Posture, unfortunately, matters. Dress matters! It's ok if you don't want to wear a tie for the second interview, I just wore a sweater over my Nordstrom button down that I got from Goodwill (which was a STEAL). Concise answers matter. It really comes down to delivery. 

SIDEBAR

Now onto the shutdown...

Can we really even be surprised? 

It's the same shit every year. Gridlock in both chambers of Congress. A defense bill that should have already been passed gets nixed by individuals who shouldn't have the right to represent any sort of body politic. The House leaving a day early? It's like they don't even want to pretend they give a fuck, so it seems.

The good? A WaPo article makes claim that the probability of a stop gap is there, which is good until the end of October. Then the shenanigans start again. The bad? It's all bad honestly. The question is when are we going to have non delusional leaders who aren't being led by a man who may or may not be (he def is) a convicted felon? 

Having an opinion on American politics hoy en dia isn't even worth it. You are either a libtard, a fascist, or a communist. Hell, they changed it from being a communist to a socialist actually! It's polarization has turned our already inept leaders into defunct losers, or just showing that they were always that way in the first place.

Alas, I shall enjoy my coffee on this rainy DC day, and revel in the fact that I am still the most interesting and attractive man in this backwards city. Carry the hell on...

Ratio

 Scenario: My boss calls me into their room for a "counseling" session, aka she tells me what I'm doing great at, and what I can do better. Obviously when she said that I was a pleasure to be around and had such a gracious attitude my head was in the clouds. Then, as she gave me my criticisms, my head was still in the clouds. Who cares, I was having a moment.

After the boring part where we were talking about work, the floor was open for whatever was on our minds. We bounced off of each other. She mentioned how she hadn't lived in the states for more than 7 years, how she was eyeballing a job in NYC to be closer to family, and things of that nature. I followed up with how I was having a hard time transitioning from BK to DC, and blurted "I fucking hate DC." She wasn't surprised by my choice of words. I got to say, she's a cool cat. But then, in that moment, I was in fact having a moment. I realized that I can't compare two cities that are known for two different things. In layman's terms, I can't extract orange juice from an apple. She echoed my subtle disposition to my new found point of view, and could see a sense of relief on my face as I realized that I, myself, was the problem and not where I was living. 

That night, I went to bed with a different mindset. Also, to be transparent, I know this sounds corny as shit. But, to be transparent, I don't give a fuck. Anyway, I woke up the next day actually living in DC. I let the cicadas sing all night outside my window. I let the natural sunlight creak through my blinds to wake me up at dawn, only to be 15 minutes late to work (just like everyone else). I was finally doing what I had been planning to do all along-- to just be. I don't know why people have such a hard time doing that, and it confuses you even more when you see yourself falling down that same path. Still, it's important to realize when you are priming yourself for disappointment, and to mitigate it right then and there.

Sure, I can miss other cities. Shit, I still miss Santiago. And the shitty city. But isn't the whole point of being, specifically being in your 20's and even your 30's, to experience new cities, new happenings, new, things? There's a lot to like about DC if you actually put your mind to it. That's kinda where the beauty lies. You, for all intents and purposes, get what you put into it. I've learned to enjoy my commute to my job where although I think most of the people in my building are complete jabronis, it's still a place that breeds tons of intelligence and intelligent people. I hate to say it, but it's true. I've come to fall back into the southern-esque way that some folks move, speak, talk, and just are around here. It gives me slight tinges of being back in The Field. I was even blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd on my way to the skatepark today. I've come to enjoy my neighbors giving me the gossip about my drag of a neighbor who's been calling the cops on my car to give me tickets. Sidebar: that was lame as fuck when I figured that out. I've come to enjoy my quiet block, and having the fall air hit my face as I open my back door first thing in the morning. I've come to appreciate a lot of things that I should have been in the last few months in the last few days, and I hope that this trend continues.

It's weird. You feel like you've been in a place for so long when you haven't even been there for a year. It's been almost 6 months for me. That's enough time for some tangible, noticeable change. And I'll allow it. 

So there's that. Take whatever you might from this. Or take nothing. I don't care. Here's a picture of the DC streetcar.

If you saw this in person, you'd understand. 

A Very Normal Day

 I woke up this morning, like many, on my couch with my TV on. The time was around 1AM. My unbrushed teeth felt just as they were, and my body still had the sticky, sweaty feeling that you only get by driving for more than 3 hours. I was fucking fried.

But sometimes that feeling of being fried leads to being refreshed. I eventually relocated to my bed and set several alarms to be up at 7 sharp. And 715. And 730. and 745. 

As I drag myself out of my door, I wonder where the home health aide who usually says "hi" to me in the morning is, as I haven't seen her in a few days. None the matter. I hop on my fix gear and slug it up the hill, then the other hill, cross the main street, lock my bike, and get on the metro.

More often than not, the train will be there when I get there. And it didn't fail today. The only surprise was that I was stuck on it for a good 45 minutes because of some "emergency" at Rosslyn. Lame. But also I didn't care. I checked my emails before I left for work, anyway. 

The air is cool, and admittedly dry, for once this year. You can see the tinge of autumn creeping in from across the Potomac (y'all dig the picture I'm painting?), but soon come back to reality as you have beads of sweat dripping down your neck.

Work is work. Sometimes you get lucky and your supervisor doesn't decide to show up. Sometimes you get lucky and get sent home for a huge storm that never happens. Sometimes you don't. Today was a mix. Half of the office was teleworking, my bosses were in meetings all day, and I had an extra 15 for my lunch. A very formidable "W", if you ask me.

I scurry out of my job at 4:52, because I make a nickel and the boss makes a dime. Instead of being responsible, I go to a very randomly placed Spanish restaurant off of 17th street for a cerveza and a mollete, embrace the chow, and leave all in 20 minutes. The train was right next to the spot, and I was home within the hour.

After destroying me knee at the skatepark and icing it for almost 4 days, I felt as if a bike ride was needed. At first it was just to Lincoln Park, but then I was at the Capitol, which is close enough to southwest to where I decided to send it to the Wharf. The sunset was nice. Nice enough to where I posted it on Instagram. I don't care that I just mentioned that either. 

My headphones have been on shuffle for the last hour or so of my bikeride, skipping from Carti, to Title Fight, Tim Maia, Pavement, Rosinha de Valenca, Biggie, you get the gist. For some reason, I felt like I was back in Chesterfield skating around with no aim. It was a very eye opening moment for me to feel like I was 15 again in a different setting.

The temperature has made it so it's ok to be outside at night without overheating. My back patio finally has some potential now. I drank my last beer before I went on the bike ride, but I'll probably go get some more. 

Me and RFK are...Twins?

No, this isn't about Robert F. Kennedy. I couldn't even tell you what his relation is to JFK, but that's besides the point. It's a seemingly abandoned stadium that has been the controversy of local neighborhood residents, politicians, Twitter (or X?) rampages, possible sports team's relocation and things of the like. As you drive down 295, the opulence, and I use that term lightly, of the stadium's rusting corners give the sky a copper tinge, and automatically make you think "why is this piece of shit still here?"

With all of the slander that it faces and the nothingness that it represents, the potential is there. Maybe it'll be the home of the Commanders, a team that may or may not even be the Commanders come this NFL season. Maybe it'll be affordable housing that doesn't get bogged down by unnecessary HOA regulations. Maybe it'll turn into a crazy big shopping center like they did to Ballston (for those who remember it when it was just a bathroom and a place to hang out while waiting for the shuttle, the transformation is out of this world). Maybe! Maybe! Maybe! <----- I feel like this is a good plug that say that I love the song "Maybe" by Janis Joplin, and quite possibly the only song that I like by her. Maybe.....

Once you hit your mid to late 20's, you kinda start feeling like RFK. Decrepit. Jaded. For a lack of better words, "vintage', but not even in the positive light. You enter the phase of your life when endlessly scrolling through countless social media apps just isn't as fun anymore, where your friends live in cities all over, where your job --might-- be wanting you to end it all (parody), and when things that you might've taken for granted before just seem out of reach. I'm sure that the stadium has never felt any of this since it's an inanimate object, but the point remains. 

But that's where the beauty in all of the muck resides. The future can be bright, IF YOU WANT IT TO. Those new apartments or Commanders buyout could be a new hobby or band that you find. Yes, I'm being that basic, and I don't care! There are things that normies get right that microinternet celebs / film guys / vintage resellers / podcasters / cinephiles / designers / servers / accountants / businesswoman/men don't. These are all occupations or things that my friends do if you were wondering btw. 

Come to think of it, the thought of what I was actually going to type was way better than what's on the screen. I don't get paid to do this anyway. RFK is getting a makeover, and maybe I am too. Just sans all of the makeup and stuff. 

Eastern Market

 You know when you walk in public places, such as the Farmer's Market, and there are just plenty of influencers taking photos of themselves with organic carrots and beets for their feed? The caption is like "I love this town." or "blah blah blah look at me follow gymshark and add me on tiktok" or something like that. It's predictable to say the least. But today at Eastern Market was slightly different. The amount of influencers there? Like, three, maybe. I could count them on one hand! A rarity.

I didn't feel like I was in a city when I was there, either. The people were a lot more toned down. Very chill and normal. Maybe I just wasn't ready for it to be that mundane? A welcome surprise I would say. 

DC has been just that. A welcome surprise. Life is simpler here. Take that as you will. There's a vibrancy that you miss coming from a big city. But there's a certain quaintness about a smaller, considerably duller place that you move to. You're not there to impress anybody. You're not there to look good for anyone. You're there for just, you. I stand in solidarity with everyone who moved from somewhere much cooler than DC for themselves and bask in its midness. A wise person once said "sometimes mids do be hittin'", but I counteract that statement with a tweet that I sent out not that long ago that said "you can't romanticize mid", which I kinda what I'm doing now. The duality of man in a few sentences.

Has anybody ever seen Oz? How did that show make it on the air anyway? 

Careening Towards the Mid-Atlantic

 What is Slouching Towards Bethlehem, anyway? Seems archaic. I hope some get the reference. 

If there's one thing about New York, it's that it's vain enough to have a sub-genre about itself. You know, the stereotypical "Leaving New York" essay. I'm pretty sure Didion was the one who started this trend back in 1967, when she realized that after 8 years the glow of the city went away. "Goodbye to all of that" didn't seem like an essay by someone who had given up on their hopes and dreams, or someone who had been let down by the city. It seemed like it was written by someone who had matured slightly from their younger selves, who's heart was entangled with someone else's, who couldn't themselves the same way that they saw themselves before in the ever-changing city that New York is. 

“You see I was in a curious position in New York: it never occurred to me that I was living a real life there,”

This describes the experience of many. I've felt this way plenty of times. The onus of the city is to make you feel new, to make you experience whatever it is that you haven't felt, seen, heard, believed before. But, at the same time, it's just as easy to be present in the moment. 

Three years doesn't seem much. But, for someone who hasn't lived outside of their hometown for more than a few months, three years is the next best, or already is, thing. Memories here that I've made will last a lifetime. And thank God I got half of the film I developed on print, also. 

The city brings out the worst in you at times. Hawking at people at the bar for looking at your girlfriend the wrong way. The snake eyes for someone accidentally spilling their drink on you. The long and jaded sigh over a group of people 5 years younger than you who walk in like they own the place (why be jealous, anyway? I walked into Sullys, Sticky Rice, and Helen's like this for years), blocking people out who ask you for money, screaming indecencies while walking down 1st Ave., the list is, really, expansive. I could give you a list of about 50 things I've done wrong on any single given night from March 2020 up until now.

On the flip side, the city can also bring out the better side of people. The corny shit you see on TV about helping little old ladies cross the street is, more or less, true. But there are other human interactions that you see across other metropolitan areas that aren't so much unique to New York, like giving up your subway seat for a pregnant woman, shit like that. It's much easier to remember the bad, most definitely. What I can say is that I've had equal to greater things that are great happen to me here than the bad. I mean, worst thing that's happened is my catalytic converter getting stolen. Hoppers probably needed the cash more than me in the long run.

I could go on about how the coffee at Porto Rico in the West Village was my safe space if I was having a terrible day at my subpar civil service job in Lower Manhattan, or how post work beers at Off The Wagon or 212 Hisae made the 35-40 minute commute less strenuous. I could tell you how I've learned how to stand up for myself more, and made it so my voice is, at the very least, heard. I could tell you this place is one of the best to cut your teeth at, how run-ins with locals at the bar reinforce your reason for living here, how having a solid group of friends elevates your NYC tenure, or how the 3am deli sandwich has medical remedies that have yet to been posted on Mayo Clinic. I could say so, so many things, But why continue to blab about what this city has given to me? What have I given to it?

Well, first off, my taxes. That's annoying.

Other than that? I've given my best foot forward for most things here. My job, my significant other, my extended family, the typical, run-of-the-mill nonsense. But I also gave my best foot forward in believing that I had a small, insignificant slice of this city. That in however many years when someone asks me "what was it like living there?" that I can tell them about wandering through Central Park with my friends, or binging on $2 (now $3) beers at Carmelo's, feasting on the finest birria in all of Bushwick, or maybe the city in general, going to the U.N. building to get your covid vaccine (that shit was kind of lit, can't lie), and all of the other great times I've spent, mistakes I've made, the whole lot. I wouldn't change it for the world. 

Now this BLOG post? This is no "Goodbye to All of That". Far from it. I didn't even learn about Joan Didion until about, like, 2 years ago. Granted, she was a pandemic find. A gem for that matter. And since reading that essay, I always knew there would be an expiration date on my time here. At the moment, at least. I've dreamt on what I would do if I chose to live here again, where I would live, all of that good stuff. But it's good to live in the moment, and not get too ahead of yourself. That's always been an issue of mine, but, with saying that, I've gotten better at it. 

They say Washington is LA for ugly people. Luckily, I hate LA, and I'm far from ugly. I've already got that going for me. Well see if I end up on the Post for being an unnamed source or something like that. Until then, I'll be enjoying my last week in North Brooklyn, while letting the winds of change make their ways. 

FIN

Stranger's Anonymous

 It's a weekend in northern Brooklyn. And you know what that means....

Yes. It means that the L train isn't running. Again. And you know what happens when the L train isn't running?

Correct! IT ALSO MEANS THAT THE M TRAIN ONLY TAKES YOU TO DELANCEY. 

It's almost as if the city's infrastructure for transportation is crumbling or something like that. I don't know. Maybe I'll ask Pete Buttigieg (is that how you even spell his last name?)

But this time, it wasn't as unbearable. A few skate friends just so happened to be in town, and we planned to meet at Tompkins. Tompkins sucks. But I was in good company. As I was on the way there from 6th Ave, an older lady, probably in her 60's, decided to sit next to me on the wooden benches that probably haven't been cleaned in at least 20 years. I was listening to the 1999 self titled album when she began venting to me about how the supposed reconstruction of the train didn't help it a single bit. At first I thought she was just gonna stop after that one liner, but she ebbed into a more interesting convo about how cheap her apartment in the Upper West Side was and how she told her landlord that he is going to "bury" her there. I was....enthused. Wait, wrong word. This phrase is better: the convo peaked my interest.

She kept dropping bombs on me. "I used to be a legal secretary", "I was a flamenco dancer", "I'm meeting my friend at the flea market. I don't have her number, and she doesn't have mine". Interesting, no?

I think the most interesting part of the conversation was when she told me about her time abroad in Spain. She complained about how they still have the conquistador attitude and how some dude she met there said that their ancestors came over when the Spanish first came to America. "You know what I told him? I told him that they took random people out of jail to come to the New World because nobody wanted to go. That's right. Your ancestors are a piece of shit!"

She got off at the same stop in the East Village as me. The flea market she was going to just so happened to be the same way that Tompkins was. We chatted for a few more minutes, and said goodbye. She left me with a beaming smile, like, the one that grandparents give their grandkids when the graduate high school or something. A lady of many lives.

king of queens

 It is so easy to say that where you live sucks. It’s even harder admitting that it’s not all that bad.

But recently, Brooklyn has been feeling, how you say, washed? 

We’re all part of the problem, including me. We all love hear big eyed thinking “is this what living is?” until we realize that this isn’t really living at all. I mean, going to the bar and not leaving until 3:30 AM is super sick, and I may or may not have done that in the last 24 to 48 hours, but, sustainability wise? That’s a whole different conversation. But I digress.

I took it upon myself to enjoy the beautiful weather from today and venture into NoMansLand, THE COUNTY OF QUEENS. 

It’s chic. It’s clean. There were, like, no rats. The security guard at the beer garden was nice to me? (!!!) This was an unprecedented event. 

Bushwick is loud, always on the go, and full of filth. And that’s part of the reason I love it there. It’s a very “coming of age” kind of neighborhood, until you realize that everyone that’s being priced out of Williamsburg (which is honestly Manhattan at this point) is seeping into Maria Hernandez, Irving Square, and Carmelos. 

Astoria is the lowly man’s dream. (More) Affordable housing, more space, quick access to Manhattan. You name it. I mean, let’s be real here. Astoria Park > McCarren. 

Alas, it was a great acid trip while it lasted. It slowly faded as I perused through my music catalog while driving on Grand Central, hoping that the stop and go traffic wouldn’t get in the way of putting in my password correctly to play La Medicina by Los Tetas. And while I can daydream about the day I become a Queens man, I must live in reality. My paisanos are playing their favorite tunes, and I may or may not have helped a street vendor move her cooler down the double set of stairs at the subway. A beer at the corner bodega still costs $2.50, and the cashier clerk will still wave to me from time to time. 

It’s ok to bitch every now and again. 

The Digital Surveillance State that We Already Knew About

 It's Sunday.

Right off the bat, I have to mention this whole Haskins event. It's a tragedy. Half of my friends, if not all of them, were younger than this guy. And boom. Just gone like that. I've brought this up before, but the passing of high profile folks (athletes, celebs, etc.) sometimes feels larger than life. Perfect example is when Kobe passed. Life didn't seem real for a few months, and it still doesn't even seem like he's...gone? This is somewhat similar, in a way. Just a guy going to practice, doing his job, and then this happens. The fragility of life is such a precious and damned thing. Because once it's gone, that shit doesn't come back. That's my take. 

Also, Adam Schefter, if I ever see you, it's on sight. 

There's this sake bar in the East Village/NoHo, right, and I'm waiting to get in to link up w/the goon squad. The guy that works there is like "sorry, there's no room for one person in there" and immediately goes to the group of like 5 people behind me and is like "give me a second, we have a table for y'all". I'm standing there in awe, disgust, confusion, angst, anger, despair, blah blah blah. Then I tell him I'm meeting some folks there, and he goes "Oh! Well that changes things." Yeah, it better, pal. 

I've been cat sitting for the last week it seems. All they do is scratch at you and eat all of the food that you set out for them. I'm coming to terms that I am just not cut out for this. However I will never let them know that. They need to know that I am the boss. I am the alpha, and the omega. I'm really him. 

Streetsblog just put out that they're going to be installing new security cameras in most, if not all, of the subways within the next two years (around the end of 2024 is when it should be done). Reason being? They want to "stop fare evasions and cut down on crime". As if. Wanna know what happens in cities with marginalized populations that raise train fare? Get a load of this: schools being looted, city fires, militarized police attacking civilians, protesters losing an eye after being shot with a rubber bullet, etc. IMO? NYPD and Mr. Adams are lucky none of that has happened at this point. I mean come on man, you're really THAT mad about some kid or some person that's late to work that doesn't want to pay $2.75? Cry me a river, the River Nile actually, Mr. Adams. E andate a la chucha. 

Also they're thinking about making a super prison in Chinatown? It's 2022 and we're still doing this shit? Streets are done. Omega GG to the people. 

April Showers bring Howitzers

 First of all, how in the fuck is already almost April? I mean, come on man...

What's up with this Will Smith guy, eh? Why are people so mad at this? He's a billionaire, probably. Same w/ Mr. Bed-Stuy. "He almost died" my ass. Whoever tweeted that needs therapy stat. What I will say, though, is that watching that moment didn't feel real. I thought it was staged, until I realized that the sound was muted for about 20 something seconds. Queue international Twitter! Japan and Australia were looking out with the down and dirty versions.

This is most definitely bearing a dead horse, but I feel like this has been a good distraction from Bovid-19 or whatever. The masks come off on public transit in Sin City in less than 2 weeks I think. As if people still wore em' on there in the first place. I could care less at this point (at the expense of my health, for others I can understand as to why you need others to have their mask on. I don't even know if that sentence made any sense. I sure as hell hope it does). 

I come back to this poor example of a blog every now and again when I finally get the itch to blurb my semi-finished thoughts onto the internet. It's serving scrambled eggs that are, like, kinda done, but aren't completely, but you're at your friend's grandmother's house and you have no choice whether you eat them or not. 

The weather here, and I'm pretty sure everywhere else across the US, is so upside down at the moment. Tell me why, as human beings, we are experiencing winter all over again? Easy answer. I just refuse to say it right now because I am upset about it being 24 degrees in damn near April. But tell me, am I bugging? Should it be this way? Do you love this shit? Are you drunk right now? Do you ever get nervous? (real ones get this). Spiel over.

I've considered what going back to school would look like in the near future, as well as taking another bite at the Fulbright next year. But in all honesty, I said the same thing about being an FSO and I've delayed that out of my head for sooooooo long at this point. ANYWAY, university in NY is great (at least the prospect) because even if you are not from here, you can get in-state tuition costs after living here for a year. Not going to divulge the amount of time that I may or may not have been here, but I would benefit from that immensely. 

Currently, I am waiting for my Uber Eats to pull up. I am tipping in cash, and I honestly think that's the reason I am not getting it just yet. The spot it less than a quarter mile down the street, and it's almost been an hour. "Why don't you just go and pick it up then?" Aha, I've already found your answer. And it's that Uber gave me a $10 coupon for delivery, you dipshit. 

Lots and lots of crime has been going on in the city in general. Not that I know anything enough about the Bad Old Days, but it's interesting to see the amount of boomers on local news sites that draw that comparison so easily. Granted, some of the shit that's going on is bonkers. People getting tossed onto the train tracks, getting bludgeoned to near death with a hammer, getting beat up so bad that it looks like you just got shot, getting stabbed to death by a homeless man, dying from a stray bullet coming through your window, and that's all the stuff that I from TODAY. That's not to say that all of this happened in a day, week, or even month's time span, but it does show how crazy the city can be. Is it because we're all coming out of Covid? Is it the measly budget decrease from NYPD that is causing this? Do the cops just not care anymore? Where's the avatar when you need him most?

I may or may not have a video part coming soon. Check back early fall. I will also be checking back to see if I capped on this or not.  

Biking into 2022 down Broadway

 The day is New Year´s Eve. You just get off of work from your day job, and are wondering what kind of nonsense you are going to get yourself into as the night approaches. The bodega is filled with people wearing their typical New Year´s Eve garb (fancy clothes for like, no reason), and the beer section is half empty. Obviously your first pick is going to either the Rolling Rock or the PBR. In fact, you buy both just to calm your mental. 

The clock is ticking, ticking, ticking. It´s 10:30, and you have a beer blanket on. You forget that it´s the COVID era for just, like, a few hours. Then you remember IT is still a thing. Your friends are asking you ¨OMG what are we doing tonight bestie?¨, your GF doesn´t know what to wear, and the IPA that you bought a couple minutes ago is starting to make you feel like you´re having an acid trip. What do you do? What is your next move? How do you react? 

I will leave you with this: At approximately 4:30 AM on January 1, 2022, I had just left the bodega on Broadway getting a deli sandwich (with bev), hopped on my bike, and made my way back home. Take from that what you will.

There´s my boring New Years story. It´s 2022 now. Last year was 2021. The pandemic started in late 2019/ early 2020. What. The. Fuck.

New York just had its first snow of the season, while my comrades in VA were probably stuck on I95 somewhere with the snowstorm of theirs that they just had no more than a week ago. The only difference is that we didn´t have Tim Kaine tweet that he was on 95. Instead Eric Adams was talking about how much swagger the city has, and that he is the ¨swagger¨ mayor. Swagger. Are you kidding me?

I´m on my soapbox right now. And by soapbox I mean my couch. It´s not even mine. My GF bought this with her when we moved in together. That´s besides the point.

COVID has had no issue in terrorizing the hospitals once again. But no lorries full to the brim with dead bodies, right? 

In all seriousness, this sucks. 

But what are you gonna do about it? My freezing cold take is that so many people are going to get it, at least in the US, that it´ll soon turn into an endemic thing, ya know?

Hm. What else.

I saw a bird of prey fly away with a pigeon today. I think I will leave it at that. 

L Train Chronicles

 I´ve come to the conclusion of this: I have felt most human riding the train. 

The whole concept of the train is to be an affordable and relatively reliable form of transportation for all. You can have on a brand new pair of Fire Reds and still have them scuffed. Same goes for the folk who like to wear those pairs of Vans that they´ve had for years that have holes frothing out of the big toe area. Your shoes are going to get got. Or you new Moncler puffer. Or Canada Goose. La calidad no vale para nada. In other words, how much you paid for your stupid fucking clothes doesn´t matter for jack shit. 

You are going to get shoved slightly when someone gets off of the train. They might even give you the gentle but assertive ¨Excuse me!¨ to grab your attention since you probably are listening to some bullshit song commuting either to or from your job, or wherever you seem to be going. 

The subway performers? They don´t give a shit either! The hat flip is going to be less than three centimeters from your face. If you are lucky they´ll give you a fist bump. They´ll make you and everyone else pretending to care on the train clap for them after their performance, ask for cash, and shoutout ¨WE HAVE VENMO, CASHAPP¨ to clarify that the ¨I have no cash excuse¨ is slowly dying out.

Now, what is so special about all of these happenings that compliment each other on what seems like a non-stop basis? Well, for me, it´s that they are all happening in a controlled space. The train is going at hundreds of miles per hour (cap, I actually have no clue), and the only escape is to jump out of the doors that may or may not open when you are careening through the tunnels (I have not tried that, but if I live to tell the tale this blog will be updated immediately). You can escape to another subway car if there are accessible thru-doors, but if not, you´re hit. It´s one of the few spaces that regardless of who you are, just for a subway ride, you are subject to the exact same surroundings, air quality, company, commute time, annoying children crying, dried piss smells, noise from someone´s speaker playing out loud, sand from Rockway beach, empty coffee cups, bodega sandwich wrappers on the ground, irritation from being packed like sardines, awkward eye contact, phone scrolling, and so much more, that everyone else is subject to. And that, folks, is the beauty of it. 

REST IN PEACE TO YOUNG DOLPH. 

Back by Unpopular Demand

 What the fuck is up Denny’s! 

I haven’t used this thing in like, months? Honestly it’s whatever. Most of my thoughts are aired on on Twitter anyway.

This should be a good time to give a synopsis, if you will, on what’s gone on since I last logged into this thing.

New York is still New York. The rats never go away, the train is on time maybe 4/7 days of the week, and Carmelos is still selling $2 Bud Heavys. Governor got kicked out (we don’t give a shit), rent price went up (hold that L), summer came, summer went (ratio), fall is here (l’m bought to stunt on all of y’all), and….. what else am I missing? 

Is the government still on the brink of a shutdown?

Does anyone really care about Colin Powell that isn’t a Bush Era GOP fan?

Is Covid ever gonna go away? Well, the short answer to that is no. (LOL)

Is this the year we delete Insta, or are we locked the fuck in? (Tap in on this one, I might be on to something)

Will I ever stop going driving up and down the Jersey Turnpike? 

Hell, who knows. There are known knowns. Known unknowns. And unknown unknowns. I personally will not be partaking in the ontology of the unknown unknowns. 

Here’s to covid fall/winter part 2, maybe I’ll get off work because if a huge snow storm again. 

COVID Vaccination Roll-Out Say What Now?!

 What seems to be like a never ending fever dream just seems to continue to persist. Covid is almost comparable to the new seasons of It´s Always Sunny (no offense, it´s just that the earlier seasons are way better and FX just doesn´t seem to want to cut em loose, hell I wouldn´t either). Where do we go from here?

The vaccine only protects those who have it. AKA everyone and their fricking mom, dad, dog, cat, and pet hamster have to get vaccinated. Of all places, Israel is doing the best. What, like, 40% of the population has the first shot? I got that from the Global News Podcast, so don´t quote me on that. France is so far behind on their actual plans to get the nation vaccinated. South Africa has stopped their vaccination program. The US is ordering more doses, but still lags as the world´s richest country. Palestine got a measly 2,000 doses of the Russian vaccine, and only has been able to spare Palestinian workers working in Israel (free Palestine) the first dose. 

WHEN.

DOES.

IT.

END?

Who knows. 

I´ve been on a podcast binge these last few days since that´s what I listen to at work to help time go by faster. A guest on the Aspen UK pod (if you follow my Twit, I dropped the link) was speaking about how the future of travel could mean having chips implanted into our passports that show whether we have been vaccinated or not. Authoritarian, much? In this case, I don´t know. It´s almost as if HIPAA has entered the chat or something. 

In m very honest and less than candid opinion, the vaccine roll out in the US is defined by it´s accessibility. NY, por ejemplo. Do you have internet to book the appointment at 6am, while you work from home, and are in the comfort of your own bed, along with the metro fare to make it to the vaccination spot? You´re good to go. Hell, you´re lucky if you have a whip to make it so you have less contact with unknown objects/ people. But those MORE than essential workers who are out delivering food at all times of day and night, who work hours that nobody should be forced to, don´t work from home, and sometimes don´t have the metro fare or the luxury of a car to make it to the vaccination site? These folks are getting left behind with nobody to give a rat´s ass about. Dude, the Times even dropped an article about how some delivery drivers aren´t even being allowed bathroom services at the places they deliver for, or the appropriate amount of PPE to go on with their day. 

If anything, this pandemic has hemorrhaged the ongoing racial inequity and disparity that has plagued this county for oh so long. And for many of us, it comes to no avail. 

WHEW! This could not have fit in a 140 character tweet. 

Here are some links to some info that I mentioned above:

South Africa: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-55975052

Israel: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/05/world/middleeast/israel-virus-vaccination.html

PPE and Worker Absue: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/30/nyregion/bike-delivery-workers-covid-pandemic.html

Anybody else hip to the Myanmar coup? 

Journal Entry 001 (Language Barrier Much?)

 Sentándome ¨on a curb¨ en tú barrio. Un sentimiento de progreso ha aumentado dentro de mí. En vez de solamente pensando en ¨acá e ahora¨, estoy tratando imaginar un futuro que será hecho de lo que yo hago hoy, manana (still haven´t figured out how to put the enya over the N on my keyboard), etc. El Tiempo es largo cuando se espera con paciencia. Me siento bien donde estoy ahora. Escribí eso en mi Twitter personal, pero cuando veía los numeros de desempleados en el país, inemdiatemente me sentía gracioso por todo que tengo, incluyendo un salario que me sostene, la habilidad de proporcionar comida, de no preocuparme sobre donde me dormiré, que mi familia ha sido segura e afuera del caos del virus, y por Dios bendeciendome otro día de viviendo.

Es más que fácil olvidar sobre las vidas que hemos perdido, y los sentimientos graves que sufren cualquier comunidad alrededor del mundo. Desde Bushwick a Virginia, todo y todos. La unica cosa que ha prevenido mucha gente de faltar la esperanza, es la esperanza. La esperanza que tan pronto que termine la pandemia de beber cervezas con sus amigitos, la esperanza de dando un abrazo gigantesco a sus abuelos, la esperanza de siguiendo una vida cerca a ¨normal¨ que sea posible... todo desde la esperanza.

No he pido pa´ algo especifico nunca, otro que mejorar a mi trabajo y mantenerme en forma (por ejemplo: corriendo 2 o 3 veces cada semana). Para quejarme sobre cualquiera cosita sería vergonzoso. Tengo mi salud, un lugar para vivir, comidita, un coche... Quiero decir mis gratitud a Dios arriba, que sigue protegéndome desde los malvados que persisten en la vida cotidiana de todos. Ojála que pueda crecirme cómo un humano de valores fuertes, con una corazon de miel, que será listo de darle a una causa más grande que a si mismo.