We called it America

Yesterday was hard.

I heard the news and cried in the shower. I know that my abortion was the right thing to do but only because of how bad things would have turned out if I hadn’t gotten it. So you can’t pull one thread without the whole cloth coming apart. You can’t bring up an incident that happened in 1998 without thinking about everything else. And then wondering how some 19-year old Mexican girl out there in a super religious family is gonna figure her shit out without the ability to make her own reproductive choices.

And then I got ready to go to the gynocologist at the queer health center in downtown Brooklyn.

My appointment had been cancelled along with everyone else’s for the day with that provider. But none of us got the message.

I tried to salvage the day by shopping at Trader Joe’s and picking up my prescriptions.

Came home, toasted a baguette, made a salad, put truffle pate on the bread, took my food to the projector room and promptly dropped my salad all over the floor.

But I’m already cried out so I salvaged what I could and sat down to eat. Because no one is gonna take care of me. I have to figure everything else out for myself all of the time and now I’ve got to worry about the fight ahead that’s been coming for a long time.

I want to tear the whole thing down. But just for a second. I want to raise an army and lead them into hell. That’s what I really want to do. I feel violent.

Harry did a mitzvah today and got me out to Herbert Von King park.

We did what we did best. Talk nonsense. Talk real truths. And then talk about how uncomfortable people make us. The ones who play guitar in the park. Or frisbee. They are not for us.

It’s so weird watching people have different emotions from you in public spaces. The group next to us were drinking La Marca. They were positively joyous. Part of me despised them. And part of me knew that sometimes the only way to get through abjectly miserable times is to pop a cork and share the load with others.

I’m a misanthropic humanist. I can’t deny them their frolick. Just as long as no stringed instruments come out. I abhor nothing more than being forced to hear someone perform against my will. It’s tantamount to a war crime.

Then we called it a day.

Caithlin said recently that I am meant to ask for help when I need that. So I mentioned to Harry back at his place that I’m looking for new speakers for my projector since the old ones died. Harry’s roommate was there eating two chicken drumsticks (with a fork and knife!!!) and it turns out he works at the competitor to B&H and he’s a sound guy. I explained my layout and my predicament and he said he could get me something and pass on his employee discount.

Ah! So this is why you make friends!!!! It turns out life is easier when you don’t have to invent the wheel yourself every single time.

Someone once told me I was too enamored of the struggle and I had more answers that I gave myself credit for. Maybe the answer is to find community and you don’t need all the answers. You don’t need all the struggle.

Ok. Time for some food. And then tonight…maybe a play with Kim.

Here’s a little blurb I found on the interwebs about the park in case you’re curious:

Herbert Von King Park was first built as Tompkins Park in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn. It was designed by Cavevrt Vauz and Frederick Law Olmsted, the same man who designed Prospect Park and the ground of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. The park was one of the first in Brooklyn when it was built. Originally named after Daniel D. Tomkins, an active abolitionist who served as governor of New York and Vice President of the United States, the park was renamed to Herbert Von King Park in 1985 to honor an exceptional member of the community. Today the park serves as a meeting place and event space for the local residents of Bedford-Stuyvesant.

Von King was often referred to as the “Mayor of Bedford-Stuyvesant.” He worked tirelessly to serve his community for over fifty years. In 1933 he founded Boy Scout Troop 219 to provide a constructive outlet for the local boys. This earned him the Vigil award, one of the highest honors one can get form the organization. While working as a contractor, Von King served on the local school board, the Police Civilian Committee, and the Magnolia Earth Tree Center (a conservationist organization). For his efforts he received awards and recognition form the State Senate, the City Council, and the 81st Precinct.

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