been out to the suburbs alot this summer, thanks to my camp gig. lincoln, acton, etc. you can't walk anywhere. good greenery though. but man, there's no diversity. it doesn't swing. i'm sure the air is better, and the houses are nice, but it feels like death to me. everywhere i have ever lived, i have been able to walk to a local library. a train or bus has been within a 10 minute walk. when i have ever walked down a street, i have seen people of every color, and have heard spanish, portugese, haitian creole, vietnamese, cantonese, italian, and other languages i couldn't place. the more people you observe, the more you become, if you are open to the observations. you begin to swing, to have a certain rhythm in your speech, in your walk, in your humor. you hear different kinds of music, eat different foods, attain different perspectives on politics, culture, religion. of course, a shitload of rednecks live in the heart of the city. contact does not progressivism make, but it can, if you are willing.

i have walked down the street, and seen david barsamian. i have jumped on a train for 10 minutes, and seen live jazz of the highest order. the ballgames are played in the same city in which i live. the record and bookstores are all here. of course, i was jumped once, but other than that, it's been smooth sailing. i have lived my life without a car. my feet and bus pass have been good enough. the market, library, train station, bakery, bank, ice cream parlor, videostore, diners, all within reach. no, i don't want to mow a lawn. i don't want to hang an american flag. i don't want "going to the city" to be an all day gig. i don't want to look at people whiter than me without end.

i am a city guy, and a city guy i'll stay. the overpriced, unsafe, pest infested, paranoid, angry, city has worked for me so far. the irish telling me i killed christ, the latinos yelling at me to drop my wallet, the black kids trying to punk me at the basketball courts, the chinese guys spying on me at their restaurants, the dogs unleashed, running up to me in dorchester, the woman being knocked down, refusing my help, the man lying in the street outside my old place, blood all over his hands, the inept schools with the bitter, ignorant teachers, the bigoted landlords, the vietnamese guy playing his guitar at the 3 in the morning, the jamaican guy who sold drugs on my old street.

and the old park me and my dad used to play stickball in. the brunch with live jazz, stereo jack's, dino's, lucy parson's, walks with pinko, meeting tilberg, running into walls and hitting high notes in the park, the pizza special at hi fi, the nestle quik at the local grocery store, pick up games in townfield, trips to the pond, castle island, the arboretum, the women who have walked pass, each with their own look and grace, the puerto rican parade, the west indian festival, the free movies at the library, the harvard film archive, the brattle, looney tunes, planet records, raven bookstore, newbury comics, wally's, the regatta bar, scullers, martin's coffee shop, the trotter, lewenberg, and o'bryant schools, umass boston.

the greats prefer the city. bogosian ran away from woburn as fast as he could. woody and tony bennett still have apartments in new york, fancy though they may be. the great musicians had their lofts.

the city has more life and more death, more happiness and sadness, more progressivism and reactionism, more beauty and ugliness.

the city swings.

for better or worse, i want in on the ride.