The socialist part of New York City appears to be its sidewalks. All other areas are the trophies of what American championship seems to be. New York City is like a honey pot for the spoils and booty siphoned from the World's economies. New York City is one of capitalism's trophy cases. The only part of New York City that has to be completely shared, are its sidewalks. And New York City is home for so many. And it is a rallying point for the ambitious, because it is a launchpad for dreams. And sidewalks are the path that the modern day Conquistadors, Pilgrims, Rockefellers, and so many other invisibles all take to turn their ideas into experiences.
I am living in the pinnacle of the economic olympics. I feel apart of a people who are embarrassed that our lives are not inspiring enough in small towns, to such an extent that some rush off to locations that might help the self worth grow, like a New York City. We have our aspiring people possibly believing they are the next set of conquistadors, but in this era it's the conquering of the cosmos. Our countries borders magically keep the riches and opportunities conveniently organized in a way that keeps the American citizen uniquely authorized to play this patriotic pastime of Monopoly, except the 2 dimensional board wasn't ever going to be enough for Rich Uncle Pennybags. I walked the city this summer and felt the paradox of how marvelous it is while also seeing how saddening the way we have disorganized the shared parts of our communities. The only part that included everyone was the sidewalk.
I think we leave our home towns out of a fear of facing the existential pause we all have, reminding us of how anonymous we are. The anonymity that is likely a reminder of what was always gonna be there pointing to a paradoxical yearning for the acceptance of home and yet trying to find it over there, in the big city lights. New York City provides a metaphor for this. I now recognize New York City as that city that people hope will erase this existential anonymity. It is now in my eyes the reminder of what was always gonna point me back to the existential pain of being a tiny moment in a large existence. Likely a destination that can't erase the human tantrum that happens when we don't arrive at a legendary status. I am not a celebrity and walking anonymously through New York City was a nice reminder of this. I don't see New York City as a champion's city, I see it as a pilgrimage for the spirits wounded by not having been seen by those closest to them, especially in their hometowns.
When walking through the streets of New York City the first thing I hold with tension is how every class of people, at some point, has to share the same grimmey sidewalk. The wealthy have to share the pungient smells, and walk through the same propagandist advertising. New York is where the classes are forced to share the narrowest of real estates. Makes me wonder how long before there are toll booths on Park Ave. I can't be misled, this caste crossroads does not imply any form of sharing, and no such communal caring, a minor consequence of business, spilled out from profit sharing. As a metaphor for how much the businessman, person, has any use for the socialist playbook, the sidewalk might fit. I can picture the New Yorker with the suit and tie tolerating the 12 ft or more of concrete running along the streets. Only the lower castes truly depend on sidewalks. The moguls only need it for the time it takes them to duck into a chauffeured transport swept away to an elite way of life that probably inspires everyone they've just blew by. The wake left by these champions are communities and citizens that need more than a sidewalk to grow.
And like the metaphor of a sidewalk, how does one who has no need for a glamorous high rise make people see there are far better ways to be seen? How does a small city champion, share the wisdom that comes from having more than a sidewalk to share? I don't need a sidewalk as much as I need people to see their worth in a life where feet touch the soil, better yet bare feet, and not necessarily on a beach, people who are grounded, without paying $15,000 for a Costa Rican retreat. Grounded in the natural and simple in a humanistic form. So here are more thoughts from a Chicano mind in New York City. I respect the hustle and feel a sadness for the disparity. It felt a lot like sharing a sidewalk is the only way elite American will tolerate the likes of people like me. And at the same time I can't see myself in the deep sadness that is shared along the New York City sidewalks, that are the doormats to even more painfilled luxury high rise. I cannot live with the pain I feel when watching homeless people disappearing into the nooks and crannies, desperately hanging onto life, surviving on the concrete real estate they can't be removed from because Sidewalks are socialist.
