Today

The cat is at the window and he looks and all he thinks about is freedom. This is the same cat whom did receive freedom and ended up in a bodega, searching for his papa. Dying to get out of the brooms and mops he had been stuck in between. He was dehydrated and sick when he made his way back. He wasn't himself as he lapped water from two bowls at once. Then he knew he was home and it was comfortable. I watch him now, at the window, and he is a cat. He wants to go, not really and knows he shouldn't, but he wants to.

I'm not really sure where this post is going. I do know I have re-discovered Brand Nubian. Maybe that is the kind of home I'm looking for. Old school home. I used to love Grand Puba. For Christ's sake, he was an MC-teddy bear to me. So amazing with his rhyme scheme, yet I could play him to my mom and out the window back in high school. He was, back then, and now, a great MC.

Been doing a lot of driving lately, especially between FL's place and mine. She's in Ditmas Park, BK. I'm in Bed-Stuy/Crown Heights, BK. Night and day neighborhoods, yet I feel they are the same. None really want to live in them, but people do, and they are great in their own ways. Mine has a huge backyard; hers has air conditioning and way old trees. Man, by old, I'm talking trees from the 1800s.

So, there is where home has led me. I'm exhausted. And, must now end the post with a haiku:

Window, cats and beer,

dog barking in the backyard,

street lights on and pink.

Home (Unemployment #3)

Amazingly, the kid's head is still held high. I thought twice about going back through those old journals I own and adding them to this forum. Instead, I want to write about the day to day life at home and how I've been spending my time for the past month. So, I got laid off over my vacation before Spring vacation. Was in Scotland, on the isle of Arran and drinking great Scotch. The entire semester was prepared, all the work done. Out of four years working in the same place, it was the second time I'd repeat a semester. And, that is what kills me in its own way. I really do look for new shit to teach. New book, new ideas to spread to foreigners.

Anyway, back to home. I have spent the majority of my time here since I got laid off. The irony of the layoff and the timing of the neighborhood, albeit, a new one, Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, was not the street. It was an exhaust fan which faced my backyard. It was the most frustrating noise I can ever imagine hearing. I spoke to the owner of the restaurant where it was coming from. Called him. Sent him letters. Nothing. Finally, the DEP came and within an hour of their reading, the noise disappeared. Amazing. Yet, while at home, I wonder why it has to be that way. Why didn't the guy believe me? Why would I waste so much time even trying to make it better if it didn't really disturb me and the neighborhood?

On a lighter note, Kumo, the cat now sits on my lap. I'm not missing any baseball games at all. Yet, it is so lonely. You know that the rest of the world is at work. Your colleagues are at work. You know that the block feels some weird feeling that I see everything that goes on during the day. I hear it all. It just feels like the days go by and I don't have the balls to go to a temp agency because I don't want to work in an office again. It is not part of my pedigree. I'm a classroom guy, or at least some sort of man who can't wear good pants and a nice shirt to work every day.

Home. Home is numbing. It makes you buy music you wouldn't normally buy. It makes you check your credit. It makes you feel like you were really good at something and then wonder why you aren't doing it. It makes you sleep too late.

So now for the end of the night haiku:

Jerk chicken, Leigh Fox,

off to Chicago, my dear.

Sleeping on the couch.

Pavement Haiku

Dateline: Pittsburgh, PA. 1992.

Pies delivery.

Chinese Delivery then

"Summer Babe," shift gears.

The next post will be old, bad poems I've uncovered from those days.

Cant't wait til September.

The Unemployment Journal 2

Alex Chilton died while I was half-assed looking for a job. AC is a hero of mine, having discovered Big Star while still in High School and the soccer jocks were kicking their goals. They were September Girls, I thought as I delivered pizza or worked in Chinese restaurants, getting pimply and shit.

This past year has been been a strange one when I think about deaths of amazing singer/songwriters. Oddly enough, the other night I put on Be There to Love Me. That's a film about Townes Van Zant. Then, I read that Steve Earle had just written a a book about Townes. Then, I started thinking about my strong feelings about Townes and it revolved around TCW.

TCW and I used to get wild. He has a baby now, as does Lee, and we used to get wild, too. And you think, you pause, and you wonder why the radiator is bitching at you. You wonder what it would be like to just take it all in: a family, a job, a car, a __________

There is a man outside making music on a fence post, with a fork and something more metallic. It sounds great!

Death, though is a new beginning. Marriage is another new beginning, perhaps it is the death of of the individual. That is not a bad thing at all. Individualism has never truly existed as long as there are 5,000,000,000 other people in this world. Yet, you meet someone, and I mean, MEET someone and they meld into you. Aha, lucky!

So, back to AC. He met the guitar. He made music better than most of us ever will. He wrote songs that will stay with you for the rest of your life.

I am unemployed.

The Unemployment Journal 1

So, so , so. Whiskey and beer. And music. And a cover letter I worked my ass off to write have just seemed to disappear. It is all about the insecurity now. I've never been unemployed in my life. Since I was 16 years old, I worked at China Palace. At 18, Echo Hill for the summer, then restaurants. I am unsure of how long I'll be unemployed.

Some of my faithful readers must know I didn't leave the last job whilst in Scotland. Thou did not know he could be let go so easilieth.

And now he searcheth.... and all he feels is bitter....