living in new york is humbling.
i'm not referring to looks or intelligence,
because i feel confident enough in those areas in my life.
but being away from those that seem to forgive all of my faults,
seems to present those faults in new ways each day.
its one thing to have already recognized that you are a minority in your neighborhood, but to have someone several inches taller and several pounds stronger than you spit "cracker" in your face on the street is not only terrifying,
but quite humbling, too.
especially if you are carrying a large box of cracker-ass books back from the post office, books like the 2009-2010 Fulbright handbook, and Lyotard's "Postmodern Fables", or great reference/non-fiction books like "The Philosopher's Toolkit", "Dreamweaver in 24 hours" and "Guns, Germs and Steel". And perhaps the worst offender, something that might make David Duke hang his head in shame: a graduate art school sketchbook, nearly full of notes. not even sketches.
to be honest, it is only humbling the second day,
because the first day it is only terrifying.
maybe tomorrow it will be hilarious.
the irony is (well, aside from the topics of the books) is that while i was being called a cracker, a devil, being wished dead and then accurately "MINORITY", i had set my computer to illegally download Biggie's "Life After Death".
since moving here, its all i've been playing in my head.
i've gotten over feeling stupid for even thinking that it would be ok for me to like it.
i've been reading quite a bit lately. Well on my way to finishing Michael Kimmelman's "The Accidental Masterpiece: On the Art of Life and Vice Versa", i am finding several counterpoints in a few other books i've been reading concurrently: Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, re-reading Bringhurst's "The Elements of Typographic Style" and perusing the typography section of the Mid-Manhattan library.
i'll probably cite these coincidences later, right now i need to finish downloading a bunch of black metal, enjoy Biggie's "I Got a Story to Tell", a love song, and get the courage to walk to the grocery store.