Shoes worn thin from a week’s walking. I walked about 10 miles yesterday in boots. It’s not the same. The heels are too thick. I can’t feel the pavement. Half-dead I could locate myself by the feeling of the pavement and the angle of the road, at least in some parts of the city.
I can’t stop thinking about the North Side protests. Four people arrested for blocking an entrance. Bill Peduto kicked off the parking commission for harassing the mayor. They want a guarantee that the community will benefit from jobs in new development. Instead they are arrested.
Mayor Luke is running a corrupt game to win the support of rich voters. He’s already helped win Pittsburgh the G-20 convention. There’s no money for new schools but $250,000 for his new trash cans with his name on them (thus far seen only in Squirrel Hill and the South Side). He says he’s bringing jobs, the magic word.
Obama says this too. Thus far he’s only brought debt. When Mayor Luke says it, he only seems to bring cops.
Maybe I’m cynical on that point, but the facts are self-evident. We’re shifting towards a northern-base for the Democratic dominance of a new America. Away from fossil fuels and towards…coal.
This is bad comedy. This isn’t life. It’s a fucking sitcom.
I can’t watch television. It’s watching people fake being alive. It’s observing tension, contrived emotion with little sincerity. Instead, I have a window seat and all the tattoos and piercings of the South Side to keep me. A beautiful woman walks by with her sleeves stenciled into her skin. An aging painter converses with friends. An ice cream truck passes. Every day I read the newspaper. I watch us die. But it’s Saturday on the South Side. I’ll watch people live.

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