Assignment thread: Observation, weekend of April 4-5
Here’s the thread where you should post your raw observation data for Nara’s assignment.
Don’t forget to do the very short reading that goes with this assignment, the excerpt from Species of Spaces by Georges Perec, available on Blackboard.
The observation assignment is due by 11pm on April 5th. If you’re having trouble with the blog for any reason, please email it to me. The completion of this assignment counts towards your final grade … no excuses!
Don’t forget, your script for the podcast is also due Sunday, April 5th. Post it under the ‘Scripts for April 7th Podcasts’ thread. The actual podcast itself is due Tuesday, April 7th.
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As I sit on a bench right next to the body of water named Sheepshead Bay, I start to notice a few things…
The water glistens in different spots either because it is moving about and the sun is hitting it or sometimes because little fish do what is commonly called “shining.”
Fishermen come back to the docks with their daily catch, this is something they do every day, this is how they make their living, and this is part of the grand food chain of nature.
Cars go flying by the roads, nobody is concerned with what is around them, just looking straight ahead.
The birds tend to use the lamp posts as their resting grounds, it’s relaxing to watch them go about their daily routine… what are they thinking?
I see a decaying donut on the ground, I wonder what the person was thinking when they threw it here…
The pebbles on the ground look like people from a bird’s eye view from very high up.
The boats are very impressive, they are huge objects that can not only float on top of water, but somehow they can propel across it as well.
Street signs somehow communicate certain concepts and ideas to us, and we can somehow understand those ideas.
The sky is most beautiful when it is cloudy in my opinion, because it leaves some room for imagination to think what could be behind those clouds.
It’s amazing to watch people walking around and communicating with each other, what would the world be without language? Then again, people would probably find some means of communication. Even sign language presents symbols that resemble concepts. The most interesting part is that we all understand the same concepts, regardless of what language we speak.
The houses in the distance fascinate me, they are homes built to be occupied by people who occupy this community. We’ve come a long way from huts and tents.
A shopping plaza was erected in the past decade, it’s a place where people come to exchange pieces of paper that symbolize some kind of value for pieces of clothing, jewelry, and perfumes.
The corner fishing store sells tackle and bait. We have learned what certain fishes prefer to eat and what colors or shapes attract them so that we can catch them more readily.
The wind does not make noises, it is the wind bouncing off of matter that creates the sound of wind.
If you close your eyes you can hear the surroundings better; things like the water beating against the side of the canal and people talking amidst the honking of car horns.
It is amazing what the world has to offer, yet we take these things for granted. Our surroundings are magnificent, and much more meaningful than their initial interpretation.
Sitting on the concrete and pebble steps outside of the Long Island Railroad Station in Forest Hills, Queens, I feel that one can get a sense of the entire neighborhood from this particular and rather cozy spot that I have chosen. The train platform, directly above me is not visible from where I am sitting, yet every 10 minutes, promptly, the forceful thumping of the train makes its presence known and overbears all surrounding noises. Every 10 minutes, I am reminded of what is located above me and as much as I try to hear the sounds of the neighborhood, they are drowned out during the train’s arrival and its speedy departure. After its departure, I immediately notice the trees. Some are pale pink with cherry blossoms in bloom, and others are still bare from winter. The trees strike me due to the heavy wind attacking them from almost every corner. I feel sorry for the trees and their branches; they appear abused by the wind and weaker branches fall to pebbled sidewalk and the central cobblestone street. Branches and a mixture of dry and wet leaves seem to be pasted to the ground, until the wind strikes. They do not stay in the same place for long. The sky is not blue today. Rather, it is a lighter, mellow shade of gray with clouds barely visible, yet their movement is noticeable if given a closer look. When I first sat in my spot, I was surprised at the lack of people present in this usually busy area. After a second thought I realize that Saturday morning is a part of the Jewish Sabboth, which a large portion of the neighborhood practices. I do see a woman with a grocery bag running after her small toddler. She tries to put a hat on his head to protect him from the wind, yet her three attempts fail. She finally grabs him by the hand and leads him to her navy minivan. They drive off, in sync with the direction of the wind. Few cars are present near my particular location due to the parking restrictions and “No Parking” Signs near the railroad entrance. However, within two blocks of me, streets are lined with brick apartment buildings and cars, mostly sedans from what I can observe. The wind is still going strong and the few people that I do see are all rushing to their cars and homes, carrying grocery and shopping bags. About three or four pigeons finish their search for food scraps and seek shelter in the dark train underpass. All of these details cannot be observed and appreciated by simply taking a quick look at one’s surroundings and I am happy to have been able to take a closer look at parts of my environment that may have otherwise been unobserved.
Sunday, April 5, 1:10 p.m., P.S. 52 Park.
It is a sunny day, clear skies yet windy. The park is full of people. There is a mother speaking Russian to her son – the son is yelling. “Take your shirt off, it’s wet.” A dog, white poodle, is staring at me. There are many cars, some zooming by. There is a blue and white contraption with slides and ladders – some kind of metallic jungle. A little girl slides backwards. To my left are swings. There is a little girl and her father – the father is swinging very high. The trees have begun to blossom and are sprinkled with little green buds on the branches. To my right are handball courts. One boy is playing handball, another is playing tennis. The mother returns to yell at her child. “Don’t touch anything in the bag, its not for you.” A bus passes – its roar overshadows all other sounds. I notice a juxtaposition of parked cars – a new Mercedes, an old Subaru, a new Infiniti, a Mercury with a dented door. The flags are flapping west – the direction of the wind. There is a women wearing a t-shirt and a scarf. There is a basketball game on the other side of the park. I hear the screams from each shot. Girls are yelling on the swings. There is a woman – short hair, sunglasses, and a shopping bag. My eye catches a large garbage container on the other side of he park. Subtle sounds of baby carriages progressing along the sidewalk. I wonder if it is cold – some people are wearing jackets, others t-shirts. A pine-like tree is gracefully bouncing with the wind, as if its in water. I see bricks. Bricks surrounding the trees, bricks making up condominiums, schools, houses. Looking down the street I see a linear arrangement of apartment buildings, all identical. The park has become more crowded, yet little conversation is heard. I see a smile in the distance – a grandfather sitting quietly on a bench.
1:40 p.m…Unbelievable.
the place: outside, on my porch
the time: Sunday at noon
the weather: sunny, beautiful
I sit on my porch, looking out at my neighbors’ backyards. Today feels like summer. I can hear the birds chirping. An airplane is flying by. I see it as it elevates higher and higher into the sky, and then it disappears, but I can still hear it. Not anymore. It is now silent, except for the occassional sound of a car that passes by every minute or so.
My neighbors’ laundry is hanging on the clothesline. So is mine. I love watching the way the laundry sways back and forth, back and forth, every time the wind blows. Today is not that windy though- it is just the perfect weather. Even though the tree branches are still bare, I can tell that the trees are ready to bloom. The leaves are starting to emerge, then it will really feel like summer.
Someone must be passing by on other end of the block because I hear that crazy dog barking loudly again. I feel really bad for the people who live close to that dog- it is literally always barking, really loud. I don’t understand how it never ceases to bark whenever someone passes by- doesn’t it get the point that no one is trying to cause any harm.
Two birds are chirping away, almost as if they are engaged in their own little conversation. I wonder what they are saying. One chirps something, the other chirps back, there is silence, and then it starts all over again. One of the birds is perched on the window pane, below my neighbor’s conditioner. That doesn’t seem like a very comfortable spot. I am trying to locate the second bird, but I don’t know where the chirping is comign from.
I feel like my peace has been disturbed now that I hear teh sound of drilling coming from a house nearby. It is so annoying. Yes, it stopped! Oh no, not for long, here we go again.
I wonder if my neighbors opened up their pool yet. No, they didn’t. Its still covered with a plastic covering, with dirty rain water on top of it. I hear my neighbors doing something in their home. I wonder what people around here do on Sunday noon? If they are like my mom, they are cleaning.
Another airplane is passing by, in a different direction than the other one. I wonder where its headed. There is nothing better than travel. As I write this sentence, I just saw a shadow fo a bird flying by reflected on my wooden porch. It feels so good to just sit out here and observe. This assignment is a great excuse for taking time to just relax. I should really do this more often.
All this time, I haven’t seen a single perosn in sight. I here sirens now, and the bus just passed by too. It seems so quiet, yet there is so much activity going on at the same time. What would it be like if I just heard nature- no airplanes flying by, no sirens, no car engines, no buses. It would be weird, I think, I am not used to that.
There is not a single cloud in the sky. It is just a solid shade of blue. A car just drove through my block’s driveway. It didn’t even stop to park- it was just taking a shortcut.
My mom just opened a back window. I hear people walking through the driveway. I don’t see much because of the way I am sitting on my porch. I hear them talking though. They decided to walk instead of taking the car because the guy said that the weather is too nice for taking the car. They seem in a good mood.
I wish I had a big green lawn. I always wanted to run across a big green field and scream at teh top of my lungs. I don’t know why. Is that the lyrics to a song? I will do that one day. I want to live Upstate, in the summer at least, because its freezing there is the winter.
I just heard someone get into their car. There is an empty bag hanging from a tree limb. I am watching it as it inflates and deflates in accordance with the wind.
I am getting really hot sitting here on this polyester chair. It was the only chair I could find because all of the other chairs we normally put out onto the porch are still unpacked from the winter. The wind just got a little stronger- its a nice breeze though. I wonder how much time has passed since I have been sitting here.
Is that a motorcycle engine being turned on? People have motorcycles around here? Actually, I think I’m wrong. Maybe its a lawn mower. In either case, I don’t hear it anymore. I am surprised that there are no children playing outside on this beautiful day, like usual. Maybe they are though, and I just can’t hear them. I practically can’t see any activity on the street from where I am sitting.
Why do I keep hearing sirens? I hope its nothing serious. Maybe the firefighters are just in a urry to get lunch. I seriously think that is why they turn on the sirens sometimes because their faces often look so clam when the alarm is on.
The birds are back on my neighbor’s window pane. There is three of them now. Is there a next out there? That dog is barking again. Another dog is barking back now.
Why don’t I hear icecream trucks? Are they already in business? I saw one by Baruch the other day. My mom just came out on to the porch. She spilled the water she was using to wash the floors through the slots in my porch. I never understood how she just spills it like that, maybe someone is standing down there. That would be terrible if she spilled the water on someone. She claims to look through the slots on the porch to check that no one is there. My mom is interrupting my thought process. She is asking me if I need sunscreen. Finally, she went back inside the house.
The dog’s owner just sternly told the dog to stop barking. Wow, thats weird, he actually stopped. Another airplane, I don’t see it though. I can’t believe that I will be on one in just a few days. Its amazing how I can hear activity going on in people’s houses. Its because the houses in my neighborhood are not large and they are mostly all attached. Oh no, a bee. It almost made me drop my paper. Actually, I have no more space left to write on my paper.
-I really lost track of time when doing this exercise. I thought that only about 15 minutes passed, but I ended up performing this assignnment from exactly 11:42-12:20, longer than it seemed. This was extremely relaxing- I will definitely try to do things like this more often, even if it means just sittinging and observing, without taking notes.
I began my observations at Dunkin Donuts on a bright Sunday morning. Cars are doubled parked along the sidewalk as people rushed in to pick up their morning coffee. As I settled in the corner, by the windows, I saw more people coming in and out to buy breakfast but no one sat down. The grocery store across the street was opening. The owner is setting up their parking lot space to sell Easter flowers and gift baskets. Near the intersection, traffic is being held up as a car with the “Student Driver” sticker is trying to make a U-turn. Some people are walking around in t-shirts and shorts while others are wearing heavy winter jackets. The most popular business on the block seems to be the laundromat where people are constantly going in and out.
I leave Dunkin Donuts and walk towards the park. As expected, it is filled with children, playing hide and seek, tag, and having water gun fights. Kids are lined up for the swings. Some of them are pushing an empty seat because they cannot swing by themselves with someone pushing from behind. A girl falls down but she looks around and picks herself back up. Why is it that when children fall sometimes, it doesn’t hurt unless someone is looking? On the playground, kids are fighting with each other. However no permanent grudges are held and it only takes a minute for them to become friends again. From afar, I hear a little girl, about 2 or 3 years old, calling for her parents. She has climbed too high up on the jungle gym and she can’t get down. A man walks over and lifts her down. I see children running around, playing tag with each other, meanwhile a mom runs after her son, yelling for him to put on his coat. Aside from children, elder visitors are playing chess and reading the newspapers by the benches. The park is not just a place for children and seniors but also a hangout for teenagers and adults. Sitting by the shades, a group of teenagers are skateboarding and playing their handheld game consoles. Some are playing basketball and tennis. A few benches over, a group of mothers are talking about flu remedies. I noticed that the jungle gym is shaped like a ship and kids are climbing back and forth like pirates at sea. An ice cream drives by and all the kids run after it. I decide to buy myself an ice cream cone as I walk home.
Place: In front of 14 Pal Way Plainview, NY (My house)
Time: 4:30 PM-5:00 PM
Date: Sunday April 4, 2009
Weather: Fair and Clear Skies
The area is all residential. The sky is bright and the day, although almost over is still very nice. There is also a man washing his car. It is loud enough that you don’t hear much else. You can hear the breeze, the birds, and the dogs barking in the distance. Whenever a car passes by you have to notice the man and the car since there is nothing else here. The trees and vegetation are still pretty dead since it is only the beginning of Spring. The barren trees sway whenever the wind blows. You can hear the kids playing in the park about half a block down. A family leaves their house and they get into their car to go somewhere. The kids run too the car as if they are going somewhere fun. The area is pretty much green and the only spots of yellow are on the dead grass. Another car passes by and the man washing his car gives a nod of acknowledgement. A plane passes over us, and even though it is miles away you can still hear the engine. A man and his dog pass by slowly appreciating the quietness of the Sunday afternoon. Kids emerge from their street to ride their bikes. They go up and down the block. It seems barren and lacking people but there are people in these houses as seen by the cars parked in the street. A bunch of kids run by with balls and in hand. The adults are not too far back but you can see they are just enjoying their day. They must be headed to the park to play. The men washing his car and neighbor have a conversation about cars. Anyone outside can hear them. Another man walks by and is probably straggling from the group of kids and other adults earlier. It is quiet again. The kid is still riding his bike as he whizzes by. The birds are just as much a part of the street noise as everything else. The kid calls for his dad as he rides his bike up and down the hill. He wants a voice of approval. Another car slowly passes by to make sure he does not hit the kid. Another neighbor has come home and the dad with the kid riding his bike says hi. The dad and kid finally leave as the automatic door on the mini-van closes. Another plane flies by overhead. The wind continues to blow. A jeep drives by very fast indicating he does not live on this street. He would only slow down if he had lived here. Another man in the house across from me is taking out his trash as he carries item after item into his plastic garbage can. He seems to be throwing away something old. A father and his two kids walk down the block across from me to walk down to the park. It is truly a great day since there are so many people out. As I am about to end my observation the end seems just like the beginning. Other than the random passersby, the overall environment is still the same. No car has moved from its place and the trees stay still. A distance plane is heard yet again but it disappears within a minute and all is the same again.
Place: Backyard of my home in Sunnyside, Queens
Time: 5:43 PM
Date: Sunday, April 5, 2009
Weather: 64 degrees still sunny, somewhat breezy
I can see two separated rows of houses, their backs facing inward toward each other. In between them, both have vacant space for parking. It runs out away from my house. A fence divides the middle of the space. Cars line the sides in no structured alignment.
A man walks his dog back and forth. Dog seems happy jumping around and smelling cars. Man leaves out the exit ramp leading out to the public street. Emptiness again.
Oddly a huge tree sitting along the divider of the vacant parking space has lost all its green shrubbery. The tree in my neighbors’ background has not lost any of its leaves. They’re two different trees.
A small bird just flew in, landing somewhere on the naked tree in the vacant space.
Clothes are hanging outside for all to see on a laundry line hanging outside someone’s window on the third floor. Looks like a bed sheet, towels, pants. There’s no sun shining on that side of the house; they probably won’t dry fast.
Looks like there might be ten houses on each side. Not sure since the naked tree blocks my view from afar. The houses seem to get smaller as they extend further out.
The huge storage space building sits at the origin of my view. It sits right between the two rows of houses facing directly across from me. I used to be able to see the elevated 7 train running where the building now stands. Disappointing, but I can still hear the train running on its tracks. Or honking as it passes by another train. Its quiet out, so the train seems louder at night.
A truck is backing into a spot somewhere in the distance. I can hear its warning signal, and the heavy engine as it roars.
A car honks, no doubt from Queens Boulevard, only two blocks away.
The same truck’s warning signal turns on again. Ten seconds later it stops.
The wind looks like it’s died down. The branches of the tree are no longer swaying.
Place: The steps leading to the front door of my house
Time: 5:00 PM
Date: Sunday April 4, 2009
Weather: Sunny and Refreshing
The steps are uniform in size and shape. They sparkle dimly in the strong sunlight, struggling to remain hidden, but unable to, in the illumination of such a brilliant day. There are many trees on this block and their leaves dance, like millions of tiny hula-dancers, swaying to the beat that the wind forces them to keep. The cars are reflecting the light, just as well as the tiny mica pieces that are embedded into the street’s concrete. I wonder at how much heat is building up inside these vehicles and how hot the seats will be by the time their owners decide to drive them.
I’m barefoot and the concrete, though hard, doesn’t pierce through my skin and feels oddly cool despite the warmth of the sun’s rays. When I look up at the canopy of leaves that the trees have created, I can see the sharp sphere of a sun that has managed to permeate the foliage, and it blinds me momentarily. As I regain my visual focus and control, I notice that I am ravenously hungry.
It is dinner time, and I can smell the savory scent of food wafting to the spot where I sit. Dinner, apparently, has been cooking all this time.
I am writing this, dated April 5, 2009 at five past three o’clock. It is a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the suburban community of Franklin Square. The air is rich with the warmth of the spring sun, filled with the sound of chirping birds and the gentle breeze rustling through the budding trees.
There seems to be an open house down the block, to which a car the color of steel wool pulls up to. A young couple gets out and approaches the front door. Perhaps they are newlyweds attracted to the homes lush lawn where they might imagine their children playing on one day.
Silence.
I see a man walking by with his dog. He was very detached from his surroundings; his eyes were sheathed with dark, thin-rimmed aviator sunglasses and music was blasting in his ears. His dog, on the other hand, was keenly aware of everything. So much so, in fact, that he looked disturbed by it all. Or maybe he felt uncomfortable by the fact that I was writing about him.
Calm for three minutes, save for the lawnmower I hear the next block over.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a rare sight in this fast-paced world – neighbors casually conversing, letting time pass away from them, enjoying the moment, slowing down.
I think about how easy it is to feel the obvious picture around you.
An airplane roaring overhead.
Children cycling past.
A white BMW parked in a driveway.
But what about everything else?
What about the road, why does it not get the attention it deserves? Its blackness absorbs the sun, trapping it in the depths of its speckled surface. What character it possesses!
Grass holds so much beauty. Each blade shimmers in the light, waving to and fro with the wind.
Even the sky has a story to tell. Where did that wisp of cloud travel from? What really lies in the powdery blueness of the atmosphere?
Being still for this time is inspiring. To live in the moment for a while, to absorb the world, feeds my curiosity and ignites my imagination. It makes me wonder why do we conduct our lives at such a fast pace? How does it enrich us?
In this moment, nothing else matters. No stress is relevant. No worry is known.
Relax.
Today is April 5th, 2009. Time right now is 10:30 on this beautiful Sunday morning. I am sitting right outside my house with my computer on the table and having a fresh fresh croissant with a cappuccino. It is so quite, silence you would rarely hear downtown at any other time.
There goes my neighbor stepping outside with her cute french poodle. Both her and the dog are meticulously dressed, groomed and manicured. She is walking in the Financier coffee shop and comes out with two croissants. Gives one to her dog, takes the bite of the other one and gives the rest to the dog also.
It is getting a little busier. More people are coming outside my building, a disheveled mother screaming at her older child. She looks so tired, probably the newborn babe kept her up all night.
A young man with a prominent appearance parks his car with a Jersey faceplate, steps out of his car, reads the sign and gets back into it to look for another spot. Just at this point a cop pulls over and writes a ticket on someone else car.
Even though it is still early you are already starting to notice more people on the street, mostly tourists. One of them had a big, professional camera. He stopped a young, professionally dressed African American woman and asked her something. She pointed him out to the Chase plaza building right across the street. He probably wanted to photograph the over sized abstract modern art piece by Gordon Bunshaft. All the tourists want to see it and no one can find it because it is on the elevated ground of Chase Plaza building.
A couple of minutes later another agitated mother comes out of the coffee shop and runs to her 3 or 4 year old young Asian girl to make sure she doesn’t eat the shiny small object that she has just picked up from the floor.
There is such a big discrepancy between piece and frustration. An elderly women with her two dogs, (which are better dressed, pampered and manicured than many children I mentioned earlier) comes out nonchalantly out of her apartment and lights her Virgin Slim cigarette. As she sits down at the table in front of me, a Hispanic middle aged man comes out in a rush to take her order. She said number one and no sugar in her coffee without even looking at the menu.
It seems as if some peoples lives are going in a fast forward mode others in slow playback. Mine was just paused.
The place: the small, old park outside of my house
Time: 4:30-5 PM
Date: Sunday, April 5, 2009
Weather: Sunny and warm, with a slight breeze
I figured I would enjoy the weather and get some sunlight, so I’m sitting here in the small park to the right of my apartment building, where I used to play when I was younger, and which hasn’t changed a bit over the years. The rust on the slides remains, and the red and yellow paint is falling off as I climb the ladder to slide down for old times’ sake. The swings are still old and squeaky, and the benches are the same muddy brown they’ve been for the past 19 years.
There’s a feeling of spring in the air, and the warm weather has drawn some parents with small children out of their homes and onto the streets for walks to the stores or the parks nearby. Oddly enough, there is no one in my park as I sit swinging. I look at the buildings and try to imagine who lives in each apartment. A few cars drive by, but nothing special. I peer into the window of friends of mine who live on the first floor near the park, because their three girls are yelling and waving to me. A small family of 3 is returning from church. It is Palm Sunday and they are carrying their palms as they enter the building.
Although these streets aren’t very different and don’t see much action, there’s something I’m noticing which makes me a bit nervous. A car pulls up across the street and sits with two people who look out of place, sitting low and looking around as if they are waiting for someone. It reminds me of the two strange-looking men I saw walking from my building last night, and an oddball I saw in the staircase on my way into my apartment late one night a few weeks back. Maybe the character of the neighborhood is changing, I think. That’s alright, I guess, as long as I can sit and watch the day pass sitting in the park feeling the warm sun and the sweet, spring breeze.
The place: Sitting on my porch, overlooking any activity that is occurring on East 2 St.
The time: 9:00pm
The date: April 5, 2009
The weather: Much cooler than it was during the day, a light jacket would be perfect.
I am sitting on a stiff wooden chair on my porch that overlooks my street. My vision right now is the brick porch wall. I realize that this isn’t going to work so I go inside to get a pillow to sit on. I put the pillow on the chair then sit cross legged and instantly get a better view. I am the only person outside right now.
The only thing you can hear is the cars that are driving down my street. There is a stop sign that almost all the drivers disregard. For those that do stop, they lightly tap their brakes and then slam on the gas.
I finally see someone. It is my neighbor who lives two houses down. All the houses are connected so I can see her clearly. She parks her car in the driveway and walks up her stairs. She notices me staring at her, so she runs into her home. Another man starts walking down the street. He is talking on his cell phone, not in English. He is shouting into the phone and seems to be angry with the person on the other end. Why is he using hand gestures when the other person can’t see him?
All the houses around me have at least one light on in some room. However, all the blinds are closed so I cannot see inside. My house is the only one that has the porch light on. In back of me, I can hear my one year old sister, Nicole, crying and my other 10 year old sister, Michelle, playing the piano.
An airplane goes up above me. My little sister stops crying and Michelle stops playing. From that moment on, the only sound are the cars. There is hardly a moment where a car doesn’t pass by.
I’m looking for some kind of animal. I remember seeing a huge possum once, but there is nothing outside here. Usually, there is a cat that occasionally likes to lounge on my stairs, but he’s not around tonight.
It’s a nice crisp night out. When I look up at the sky there is nothing but airplanes and a few patchy clouds. The night sky is dark blue, in fact, almost black. I cannot spot the moon, but there is still enough light outside. It’s probably because of the two street lights at the corner to my right. The only other light sources are the headlights from the cars that help illuminate the street. Shadows appear and disappear from the cars’ light.
Another person walks by. He is walking upright, perfect posture, and head up high, almost like on a runway. He is wearing a leather jacket. I could tell its leather because it makes a certain sound every time he moves his arms. He’s taking big strides, and not paying much attention to anyone or anything. Who could blame him, no one expects anyone to be outside right now.
There is only one giant tree across the street from me. Other than that the neighborhood is dominated by shrubs and small patches of grass in front of each house. Everything else is concrete and pavement. All the trash cans are neatly put away, and any garbage in front of the houses is swept off the pavement.
The biggest event tonight is someone who who tried to park his car in a small space. He tried three times. The first time he backed up fast, then he tried it slow, and then step by step. Each time he failed miserably. He finally gave up and drove away.
No one is paying attention to this street. Well, no one except me.
I begin my observations at a busy intersection several blocks away from house. I sit and watch as cars zoom by. The light on my side of the street goes from red to green and traffic grounds to a halt. The group of people who had amassed on the corner waiting to cross finally has the right of way. Eventually more cars pull up to the crossing waiting for the light to change in their favor. Finally this happens and the process repeats itself. A distinct rumbling sound is heard of in the distance. Over the next several seconds it gets louder and louder, until a train pulls into the station right above. After stopping and waiting for about 30 seconds it goes on its way, accelerating as it moves further from the station. The people who had exciting the train deposit out onto the street below. A couple of them head straight to the bus stop. By now a larger crowd had accumulated at the bus stop. Then not one, but two buses pull up to the bus stop. Slowly the people who had been waiting pile into the bus. A woman runs out of a store trying to catch the bus. She is successful. All down the block people are seen moving into and out of stores. Many hold at least one shopping bag in hand. The grocery store across the street from me looks particularly crowded. Two men squeeze past each other as they try to enter/exit the store. A group of teenagers run down the street, seeming to be in a hurry to get somewhere. An elderly couple slowly walks past me. I notice a couple of people standing around or sitting down (like I am) near me. They seem to be waiting for somebody. I notice that there are a lot of families out shopping today, quite often with a baby carriage. I also see many people walking by themselves listening to their I-pod, seeming quite oblivious to everything around them. The cars are still driving by. Occasionally I hear music being blasted from a car, but the sound it quickly drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the busy neighborhood.
Bird on a branch.
Two.
They come more often now that the apple trees are getting older. It’s funny, people have cut down the large cedar-oaks and replaced them with dainty upright apple trees.
A robin.
There’s a man on a bench; he’s playing chess–with himself.
It flew away.
His hat is plaid (not the good kind).
There’s a wavy imaginary line from the tip-top of the roofs of the setback houses down to the top of the tree canopy, over the street and up again the other side.
Soon there will be apples.
Bird is back.
I’ve always liked the stone benches. I wish there were less of them.
The big street is like an ocean (because people throw their stuff in it). No matter, today is garbage day. Everything is clean.
There are people walking (always people walking). Exercising.
A few doors down they’re setting up a swing set–it’s awkward looking.
You can see the noise down the block on Ocean Parkway, but you would be hard pressed to here anything but the birds.
I could sit here for a while.
Giant paint truck pulling into his driveway; it’s an eyesore on a quiet residential block. Maybe he should get a swing set.
Hold on–the sun’s in my eyes.
I’m sitting on my swing set. Not that kind. It’s a two person swing, the kind that people have on their porches. It’s on my porch. It matches the rest of the furniture. You’d like it, nothing awkward about it.
Oh. Music. Piano teacher’s teaching a lesson.
I’m falling asleep.
Bird just knocked an apple off the tree. Spring’s here.
Place: In front of 861 52nd Street, NY
Time: 11:30AM
Date: Sunday, April 5, 2009
Weather: Windy, but Sunny
As I sit on my porch, I can hear and feel the wind blowing on the branches of the rose bush in front of my house; the rose bush that has yet to be revitalized from the spring weather. I can hear the rustle of the pile of newspapers that has not yet been picked up by the neighbors. I sit here, enjoying the sun on my face.
I watch the cars pass by, one after another. They all seem to be going in the same direction, but eventually, they will turn and go their separate way. There is a car trying to find parking, he has circled around the block two times already. But it is Sunday and almost lunch time. He should come back later.
Two people pass by, walking their dogs. The dogs start barking at each other. I laugh at the little Chihuahua trying to be more aggressive and dominant than the other big dog. The owners are enjoying this contest too. This goes on for a few minutes before the owners tug at the leashes and the dogs are separated. Even as they walk away, you can hear the sharp barks of the dogs, still trying to prove something to each other.
The children are enjoying this weather too. I see the familiar faces of my neighbors playing tag and throwing handballs against the garage. Across the street are two girls playing jump rope. Ka-pish, ka-pish, the snap of the rope hitting the ground. This rhythm continues, then stops. The girls laugh and the ka-pish, ka-pish, resumes. Thump, thump, the boys are still playing tag. Down the block a mom calls her son back into the house in a Fuzhounese dialect for lunch. Her call is ignored as the boys continue their tag.
I see my neighbor’s red van. He gives me a nod of acknowledgement.
I get up and take a walk around my block, watching the people passing by. Walking slowly, with no sense of purpose. An old couple is ahead of me, hands in hands. They gave me a smile as we pass each other.
Up the block, the sounds of tiles hitting against each other are heard. There was a 24-hour convenience store here. But it only lasted three months. Now it is a car-service business, but every time I pass by this store, I can only hear the sounds of the tiles from mahjong. Where are the cars parked? Do they even get calls from customers? How are they still here when all they do is play mahjong?
I keep walking. I circle my block. There is a jogger. She is wearing a track jacket and keeping a steady pace. I should start jogging again.
I am in the commercial side of the streets now. I pass the tofu store I used to always buy dao-fu-fa from. I’m glad they’re still in business. But it is evident that a lot of stores have changed hands. I remember the pizza store that used to be on the corner across from my house. But now it is just a bakery. Many stores are now bakeries. Not surprising in this predominantly Asian neighborhood. I can only count about four non-Asian businesses or businesses run by non-Asians within a ten-block distance.
I am back on the block of my house. I see people returning with food in their hands. I should eat lunch soon.
Some houses have gone through major construction. They used to all be uniform, same shape, same materials. But now there is a good mix of houses made of wood or brick. This one has a fancy driveway. His steps are new too. What happened to the two black hummers that were always parked across from each other? Did they move?
As I walk on my driveway, I notice the tree branches touching the top of my house. Did it always curved in like that?
Place: Outside TJK Cafe on Marathon Parkway
Time: 1:13 PM
Date: Sunday, April 5, 2009
Weather: Perfection
It’s around lunchtime as I lounge around at my table, leaning back and enjoying my cup of cold iced milk tea. There’s an abnormal tranquility lingering about my neighborhood today; why isn’t anyone else enjoying the weather? The only figures that accompany me are the swaying trees that line the street, and the occasional car that cruises by. The cars, the monotonously colored cars, the dreary silvers and lifeless blacks, and then the occasional reds and blues. On this stretch that I am currently situated, three cafes nestle up against one another vying for the business of each passerby. At the corner is a Carvel, and next to it, on one side, a pizza place, and on the other, a Duane Reade. Farther down the street, a cell phone store, then a Laundromat, and the antique store that no one ever visits, why it’s still here is a miracle to us all.
The cars, where to start. They are scarce today, I suppose it’s because the religious communities are meeting in their churches and synagogues. But the few that do pass, are clustered and are nothing more than a fleeting memory. The traffic light just a few yards away bottles up the traffic coming off the highway and releases them in spurts, usually five or six at a time. The license plates… all are registered to New York, actually, all but two, which are from Massachusetts and North Carolina.
1:26 A truck pulls up, and obstructs my view of the street, a delivery at this time of day? Maybe he got lost, or was just late. The driver, a middle aged man, maybe forties, steps out and enters the bakery just a few steps to the right of me. Moments later, he strolls back out with pastries in hand, and boards his truck, exiting the parking spot with a series of forward and reverses, leaving being a trail of smoggy exhaust.
1:32 A flock of birds land several paces from where I sit. A mix of pigeons and wrens. They begin to pick at the floor, at what I cannot make out. And then it becomes clear, it is lunch time, the owner of the bakery steps out and scatters bread across the floor. A feeding frenzy ensues, with birds snatching food from one another and making off like a bandit in the night. 1:39 As I begin to gather my belongs to return home, a few passerbys stroll by, and soon enough, a torrent of people flood the street and cafes. The floodgates of the religious gatherings have been opened, spewing forth the masses that have been patiently awaiting behind them.
No one pays heed to anything that happens around them. Oblivious is the one that rushes to his car. I join him, for my time here is done.