Thursday, July 30, 2009


It rained last night.


It was disgustingly hot yesterday and I was sweating in a very unpretty manner. I picked up my daughter from day care, sat and waited for the bus for entirely too long while my daughter smeared banana all over herself. -32145 For mom, +23432423 for baby.

It seems like the only time I like this city is when it's raining too hard for anyone to be outside.

That's the only time I like to be downtown--when it's deserted and it looks like a ghost town. I hate being there when it's bright and sunny and every single crack head, wino, degenerate, thug and state workers are crowding the streets, stuffing their faces with whatever greasy concoction cooked up by Po Po's or Georgia Fried Chicken.

I miss Linwood Avenue.

This is my parents house. I took this picture about 4 years ago.

::The August House::
by A.M. Evans

You were made for picnics and summer soltice's
For bike ride's down an endless driveway...
...For Christmas and Halloween decorations

You were a place that she had dreamed about when they all lived across the street from the bar
And she imagined you as a place in which she could sleep at night with no bottles being broken
or the lose ladies selling their 'goods' across the street.
You were the place she dreamed of when she was alone, in bed, aside from the three small children that crept in her room believing she was asleep.

You at first site.
You are whispered conversations on the veranda
You are boys climbing up the tree in the front yard to sneak into the house
You were parties and celebrations
You've held secrets and listened to tears in the middle of the night

Flowers grow around you
Rain fell on you
Wind blew so hard that we were afraid you'd fall over.

You've heard the slamming of doors
and a child's laughter
You've heard the telephone ring, and someone singing badly in the shower
You were there for high school graduations and New Year parties.

I'm inside of you.
In a room.
In a chair.
Looking at the world through your eyes.

I miss the tree lined street and the lake around the corner.

Here's the lake. I took this picture...I don't remember when actually.

I remember standing on this white bridge on the lake during Thanksgiving, watching a storm approach. Possibly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Or time I took my neice for a walk sometime in October, and noticed how the leaves on the trees looked like there were on fire because of the way the sun hit them.

You don't see much of that in the heart of the city--maybe if you go to Cawalder Park in West Trenton...and even then, the beauty only covers about a 3 square mile radius. Then, it's back to graffiti, abandoned buildings the homeless call "abandominiums", garbage, overgrown grass, strategically placed liquor stores and corner stores selling an assortment of poisons disguised as candy and other junk.

This is where I live, and where I was born, but I can never call it home.