Things I Know

When it rains like it did today the city has an unfriendly feel to it. A feel as if the task at hand might require a little more effort. There's a building on 2nd Street and Avenue B that's being rebuilt. It's been gutted and just stands there looking lifeless and inhospitable. One building in transition among many already complete and full of tenants.

In the 70's and 80's the entire neighborhood was like this building. There were more abandoned buildings and vacant lots than buildings with tenants. The few buildings with people were locked down like a post apocalyptic urban outpost. Most of the tenants were hard working poor people, squatters and the disaffected youth like me who came from anywhere in America, desperate to escape the misery of their youth.

The neighborhood was so bad and crime ridden, the landlords abandoned their proprieties and left them to rot and burn. It was as if an army invaded from the East River and headed west, destroying everything in its path. The neighborhood was lost.. piles of bricks, garbage, rats, an absolute disgrace but if you were a kid with no money it was something you didn't think about, something that wasn't considered. When we are young we are invincible. All the filth, crime and desolation gave it a romantic feel, a vibe, an undeniable pleasure to living there.. anything was better than my fathers house, even this place.

The streets themselves were controlled by the junkies and criminals.. Well organized and dangerous, the criminals had a clever system of commerce set up along with their own surveillance to watch for police and to sound a warning so everyone could scatter if they approached. Thinking back now it's hard to believe this was really happening 10, 20 50 people in a line on the street in broad daylight to buy your days dope. You had to have your money in your hand, not folded and they wouldn't take singles. To expidite they had guards policing the lines with baseball bats maintaining order and making sure things moved along fast. One guy holding and passing the dope, another taking the money and the thugs keeping everything moving and making sure all the junkies behave. Move the line as quickly as possible, take the money and go, fast.. If you didn't cop, if they shut down the spot than to bad. Look for the next spot. Business was good and the they owned the neighborhood. Law enforcement abandoned the neighborhood back then. Everyone living here knew it.

The drug dealing empire was like any other commercial enterprise. There was a lot of money to be made and the people who ran these operations were smart and they were businessman. They were fully aware of what they were doing, the risks, the danger and the unbelievable profits. Ironically the area where the actual dealing was done was relatively safe. A lot was at stake for them and they acted accordingly. They didn't want undue attention or trouble and they especially didn't want the police around so when you made it to the spot to cop that area was well protected. . It was when you left the area that your life was most at risk. Being white in that neighborhood was a problem because everyone knew you were there to buy drugs making you an easy target. What are you going to do? Go to the police? The criminals knew this and took full advantage. This was their job, their place in nature, find and weed out the weak. . A Darwinian exercise in modern life. Survival of the fittest. If the criminal doesn't get you the dope surely will. Just the living cesspool of society. Either way you lose. If the stick up kids get you they steal your dope, give you a beating and maybe kill you, unlikely but it has happened. If the cops grab you you spend the weekend in the bullpen puking and shitting yourself awaiting arraignment and praying for a desk appearance ticket and not to be sent to Rikers Island to await trial and experience misery you never dreamed possible. If you manage to avoid both those outcomes you hit your shot, get straight and repeat the whole process the next day. This is your life. This. You are a complete nothing, as valuable as the dog excrement you're lying next to in the gutter. For as surreal as this is you can't stop the cycle. Life is interesting..

When I walked past this building this morning it wasn't so much seeing it that brought back all the memories. It was the smell. An old tenement building has this distinct smell to it. I don't know if it's the rotting sheet rock or the old wood beams but it's there. The rain and the water falling from the sky onto and into this building awakens something. Maybe it the dead spirits, the ghosts crying out to anyone who will listen. Those that have been sentenced to reside there to remind us survivors what was once here, what this whole neighborhood was like. How simple it would be to deceive myself and forget all the madness. Maybe this buildings final days gave others perspective. Soon a new building will stand here but I'll remember the old days. I hope I do. It would be pretty easy to return to my old ways.