I am proud to say I de-cluttered for over an hour
yesterday. Without getting caught up in reading them, I tore up letters from
a relationship from 1979. Amongst the
letters were a few interesting items.
One was a photo of me at a Halloween party on Heath Avenue in the Bronx
where I was dressed as a mermaid. I had
made the costume. I was probably a size
5 at that time. Back then, I wanted to
get to a size 9. Now I’d like to be anywhere
in that zone.
Yesterday, I was waiting to enter a store that lets in one
customer at a time. I appreciate that
they do that. A man, unmasked, was near
me outside the store and not keeping distance.
He was speaking on the phone and, I’m sure, generating droplets. He stood right near me. I don’t assume it is not caring. I got the feeling he was clueless and simply
unaware of himself. I had a jacket on
due to the drizzling. I lifted up my
jacket and hid my face from his breath. I used my jacket as a curtain. He was so engrossed in his conversation, I
don’t think he noticed. I didn’t say
anything to him. But all this shit
worries me. There are only a few stores
in my immediate neighborhood that take such precautions. They both catch hell from idiots. My pharmacist told me those people’s brains
are turned upside down.
“Like the country and the president,” I said. She nodded but was careful not to say
anything. The places that actually care
to keep us safe catch all the hell.
I hope I didn’t make myself sick when I decluttered. My throat feels a bit sore. I gargled with Listerine when I first felt
it.
I saw my feline friend, Mustache, twice today at the discount
store. We had two love sessions. It feels like therapy for both of us. Goddess knows, I need it. And judging from Mustache’s reaction to me,
she needs it too.
Sprinkled into my lethargy have been some bright moments. The publisher of Home Planet News accepted
all four short poems I sent him for their November publication. The director of City Lore requested one
of my poems about living through the pandemic to be included in their
archives.
I do look forward to being able to earn money. I had some ease from a tax refund, but that
has ended. I’m f’d again. I could really use another relief check from
the government. I’m sure most people
need it. I can’t wait to have the orange
one voted out. He’s even killing off
some of his own base with his insanity.
That’s what happens when image is more important than reality.
I was part of a poetry event on July 9th that was
done through zoom. I don’t have a webcam
or mic in my desktop computer. So I didn’t
think I could be part of it. The woman
organizing the event, Lucy Aponte (Director of the Poe Park Visitors’ Center),
knows me and wanted me in it. She was so
accommodating. Lucy told me I could call
in. So while I can see and hear everyone
else, they couldn’t see me. They heard
me on the phone. The event was
great. The line-up, so talented. Lucy has good taste. Aside from poetry, there was a piano
performance of two Beatles’ songs and a Tango for two men dance performance. After the presentations, there was time for
getting to know each other. One of the
very talented writers, Maria Aponte, spoke on all the accents she heard and how
the “woman on the phone” sounded like New York.
I was the “woman on the phone.” I
was so thrilled. There are too many
people out there (who consider themselves progressive) who think I should lose
my Bronx accent. At a past teaching job,
the administrative staff wouldn’t say it directly, but they considered it
acceptable to mimic and mock my Bronx accent.
We worked in the Bronx, and they didn’t even have any awareness of how
much they disrespected Bronx people/students.
Fuck that. I am able to sound less Bronx and would do it
for an acting role, but as a real person, I like sounding like where I come
from. A poet I know, Rosette Capotorto,
a Bronx Italian who moved to New Jersey, said she vowed to never lose her Bronx
accent. I loved her more after I read
that.
Love to CGG-M ❤❤❤
