Mothers Wolves and Demons

I'm f**kin ANGRY right now.  It took every ounce of self restraint I could muster to not hurl my large Starbucks happy holiday in November coffee cup complete with coffee, soymilk, 3 honeys and snowflake graphics, into the face of a Mad Man today.  I capitalized Mad Man because this dude was fuckin ANGRY and Anger begets Anger when a mother (me) is protecting her young (Quentin).   This demonic psycho freak from hell came right up to Q and I with a murderous glazed over look in his eyes and a Wolf on a leash.   I was half awake with late morning sleep in my eyes, about to chill on a bench by St. Mark's church ready to contemplate peace on earth, when MM appeared with Wolf Dog and began his unprovoked demon attack. .   I smiled in denial and tried to stay calm while quicky ushering Q out of harms reach.   Q thinks he's a rotweiller named Napolean and hates big dogs with pointy snouts with the same fiecness  Jen and Angelina would display in a world wide wrestling bout.

  MM proded Wolf Dog closer and closer like a Nazi would do to a Jew in the 40's and my brain was flashing fight or flight faster then a broken strobe light.   Q had already decided to fight, but as chief general of our army of 2, I strategicly choose to lose the battle in  order  win the inevitable war of keeping Q alive.   MM kept his eyes sqaurely on me as the target of his Anger but Q was the bait, and while I wanted to blow MM's angry head off with an M15 rifle, I didn't have one handy, so backing off was best.  

In shock I staggered a few feet in retreat and saw an empty rum bottle sitting on the stone wall of the church garden.  I wondered if MM had just polished it off for breakfast, then began plotting my revenge.  I wanted to find MM and beat him  with  a baseball bat Brooklyn  Dodger style. I wanted to hit a home run with his head.   If the same scene had occured 2 years ago, I would have not had the self control to hold onto my coffee or my sanity.

 I've since grown into someone with a fair amount of  self control, at least when it comes to street crazies and wolves.  That may sound like a given, but I know first hand that when Anger is swallowed but not fully digested or  released in a healthy way, it manifests into rage and that's what happened today with MM and ME.

 Like a parasite living quietly below the surface feeding off it's host,  Anger eats away at the host causing the host to inflict pain on innocent bystanders.  Look at Isreal and Palastine.  Suicide bombing anyone?  

Underneath layers of anger are usually layers of un-addressed pain.   This is most likely how Ghandi, The Dali Lama, Christ, Budda, and all the other highly evolved beings through history have stayed peaceful in the face of extreme anger.   They must have known that the people who wanted to destroy them were in a state of living hell, and they knew not what they were doing.  I beleive that when humans are cut off from the source of life giving light (love) that darkness takes over, and we become prisoners of our pain.

So, now an hour or so after my morning attack by demons, wolves, and madmen, this mother is sitting here with her son cuddling on her lap,  feeling grateful for not having turned into a vengeful werewolf.   I'm happy to have enough love in my life and in my heart to feel some compassion for MM and for those like him walking the earth like the living dead.  Anger is contagious and I don't want that disease.

 I wonder if Wolf Dog sits on his lap and licks his rotting wounds for him, or if they live in a dirty basement tied up in opposite corners of the room while rats run circles  waiting to feast on the misery?   On that note, I"m going to take a baptismal shower now and wash off the black energy from my psyche.  Why do I feel like howling at the moon?

Jesus Drives A Cab

I wanted to sit on one of the many, many benches in front of the Houston St. American Apparel aka American Titty to write this old skool style in a notebook, but when I walked to the tiny "convenience" store to purchase one, it was too inconvenient for the "gentleman" who owned the place to help me. I asked "do you sell notebooks"? Yes he replied, and pointed to a shelf way up high in the arctic zone of crap. "Which one, the big or small"? The "big" cost 6 bucks he told me before getting it down with the poker. He had begun poking but didn't have great technique so the book stayed frozen in time. I declined and asked him how he expected to sell anything in his store when he's charging $6 bucks for a 1 subject spiral. He smiled a fuck you smile, and I left.



I probably wouldn't have been so effected but minutes before in the Pizza Palace also on Houston my slice and soda went off like this: I asked for a plain slice just warm please and a club soda. The kid pointed to the right put the slice in the oven and walked away. I said "where's the soda" he said "she gets it for you". Who the fuck is she I thought and walked right a few feet to see a girl behind a hidden wall of pizza boxes. She was busy doing nothing so she gave me the soda, rung up the bill but melted down when I asked for a cup with ice. She handed me a dixie cup. I asked if she had a to go cup like the kind with a lid and a straw. There was a huge pile of them sitting there. Maybe she thought I asked her if I could stick my tongue down her throat because she looked offended. Then pizza boy handed me the burning hot slice and I burned my hand on it mid hand off. I said "ouch" that's really hot! He took it back and said "you tell me when you want it out" and put another slice in the oven. I said, just warm please. "NO you tell me when You want it out, EXACTLY WHEN YOU WANT IT.



Warm slice and soda cup in hand, I left and sat on an American Apparel bench and felt sort of numb. I used to own a shop 1 block from the AA bench. I felt a little sad that the coolness of the area had been sold to the hot hands of the devil, with nothing left but smoke, mirrors, and burning hot pizza. I sat and thought how badly my day had sucked and how I spent over $100 on absolutely nothing. Each time I handed the green over I was met with over priced goods and underwhelming service. The grand total was my thinking New York is dead, and living here now is only good for undertakers, vampires and legal thieves.


I thought all of what I loved about NY was truly lost.  Then suddenly Jesus appeared in the form of a yellow cab.   This happened a few days after my "pizza/notebook" let down.   I was on some desolate road near the BQE (I think) mid break up fight with my girlfriend (really bad day) when I saw the only yellow cab in sight and got in. I was soaking wet from the Coney Island sea, clutching a wad of singles, wet jeans, cell phone, keys, wearing polka dot boxer shorts and a lunatic grin. I had waded into the sea fully dressed as a bonding experience with the GF. The bonding didn't hold too well because soon enough we sunk down into our deep sea of insanity and fell apart at the seams. Bonding over. In Cab I trust.

Jesus Cab as I call him, or "Rolling For Jesus" as his business cards state, is Philip Frabosilo. A jovial man of God who is super happy to serve his customers with smiles, jokes, and yes Jesus love. Apparently God likes to travel, even on the BQE. Jesus Cab doesn't preach the gospel or try to convert his passengers. He just drives around with bible memorabilia and offers passengers a listening ear if they want, or just a kindness that is well... angelic. Strange enough this was my second time in Jesus Cab but it had changed a bit. The first time was several years ago and it was covered in colorful figurines, xmas lights, bible sayings, and everything Jesus. I mean I think it was the same cab. Could there be two? Nah, there's only room in this town for one Jesus Cab. This time the cab was decorated more modestly (must be the recession) but the message was the same. Move over Rover and let Jesus take over.