Today I ran into a couple of black women chilling on their porch in Irvington, NJ. That's all black people do in the ghetto--sit around and laugh at the world. For them every day is a block party.
Anyway, one of them wanted their daughter to get a security system, so she drove me across town to sell it to her. As we rode in her beat up car through the hood, I smiled to myself. I had never before felt so welcome in such a strange and different place. It was like a movie. In the east the hood is so alive, so busy, and so ironically beautiful. I love feeling like I'm a part of it. I guess that in itself is ironic. One day I'll build my mansion in the hood. I'll give to the poor and I'll have all the thugs to protect me. One day.
As for my weekend, Anela was here. I took her out on the town Saturday night. We ate Italian food at one of those outdoor restaurants in the Village. It was awesome. We made friends with this middle-aged painter named Sara. Sara was fascinated by our perkiness and our Mormon opinions. She seemed depressed about life and became fixated on us. It was really a strange occurrence. After dinner we walked around McDougall Street and got some sweet ice cream.
Sunday Anela, David, and I went to the Mother African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church in Harlem. The Mother African church is the oldest black church in New York state--founded in 1796. It was awesome. The architecture was all classic, but the music was hip and modern. There are times I wish we too could have drums in church. Sigh, oh well.