GRAND CENTRAL STATION (Up/Down Town & The King/Sherman District During Down-Time)

5 Jun



WATCH every breath you take…WATCH every move you make…

WATCH every step you take…WATCH every game you play.



Sheesh! The worst time to go shopping in this neighbourhood is on a regular weeknight between the hours of 9 & 10 (even tho’ nowadays, it’s pretty bad during just about any other time of the day, for that matter). For example, take a look at the episodes from last night, for instance (about which I’m going to elaborate on shortly), that involve only a couple of several uncomfortable predicaments I’ve been faced with during the past decade or so while I’ve been living back in this neighbourhood (& in the house I lived in right after I was born), when I found myself having to stay on my toes, remain aloof & keep my tacks sharp, so to speak, by carefully following every "watch-point" noted above (at the point of a watch, haha). As soon as I locked my front door to leave for the store and had only taken a few steps away from my house, a kid approached me & asked if I had a fin for some change (while blowing smoke in my face). I answered, “No”, then kept on walking away in my powerful, no-nonsense stance (which I’ve created & try my best to maintain). My gut reaction was telling me that apparently this kid didn’t have any  and that he was only using this a ploy to entice me to open up my satchel & make my wallet readily accessible for the taking.


If I ever absolutely have to answer to a stranger on the street at point-blank range, I reply with 1 word only. My dippy mother kept asking me while we were uptown last week if I knew any of the people that kept talking to me while we were walking around window-shopping (like the dits that she is with her stupid-act, or is it really  ). I impatiently & incredulously had to waste my armpit-sweat in educating her about not talking to strangers when they approach you & begin to speak to you. Some people just don’t fucking get it any more. There are some crazy piece of "werks" out there, believe me this. About a month ago, during a late afternoon while I was standing smack damn in the middle of Hamilton, on the north side of King adjacent to Gore Park (and while I was doing nothing but fucking the  anyway), acting on a whim out of curiosity, I decided to count out 100 people as they passed by me, while mentally placing them into 2 categories – those who appear to be normal & those who don’t. By having labelled people as being normal, I mean they weren’t talking to themselves or to invisible people, drugged out, jonezin’ for a fix, making drug deals, emitting putrid stenches, having debilitatings physical setbacks & physical deformities, or sporting outlandish attire straight out of Barnum & Bailey’s or Sci-Fi Weekly. And by the way, this short gathering of human statistics took me about a total of 10 minutes to accomplish. It was as simple as that. And guess what, folks? I counted maybe less than 20 people who appeared to be relatively sane. I have also concluded & realize that those who are classified as being sane from outside appearances only may only just have developed a knack for keeping their insanity under wraps. And that, my fine feathered friends, we will never really know.




Now before I stray off the topic again, I’m going to get back to my story regarding my outing last night. As I proceeded to stroll down the few side-street blocks on my way to Shoppers Drug Mart, I noticed that a lot of cars were slowing down, apparently looking for people, & that the only people walking on the street appeared to be slowing down to look at the cars coming up & down the street. A coloured guy that was walking about ½ a block ahead of me actually turned around and starting walking back toward me, and I immediately became cautious in thinking what I must do to protect myself in case he confronts me, but he was only trying to track down a car that had driven by. Then shortly before I arrived at the store, while approaching the unlit parking lot on the slower side of the street beside the store, I instantly questioned myself, “Should I walk through the lot, or should I stay on the sidewalk & walk around it”? Just as I decided the coast was clear & began to cut thru the lot, a shadowy woman (who must have been lurking in the shadows) came forward and said to me, “Do I know you?"After taking in a quick glance of her frail composure & street-urchin demeanour, and not recognizing who she was, I replied, “No”, and kept right on going in the direction of the store. She then walked directly toward me, grabbed my arms & said, “I know you, Edith – it’s Tana”. Then she hugged me & grabbed my cigarette right outta my fingers, eagerly puffing away at the last few drags, asking if she could have a few puffs of it (after she’d already snatched it from me, haha). She then asked me if I had a phone, some smokes & some weed on me (and I’m guessing that you know what my 1-word answer was, heh). I was appalled at the emaciated condition she was in. She couldn’t have weighed any more than 90-95 lbs max, and she was wearing a skimpy rag-like gypsy mini-skirt & a next-to-nothing spandex shirt that revealed her scrawny, bony frame & her unbecoming less-than-the-size-of-a-tea-bag titties. This woman who I’ve had the misfortune of bumping into (yet again) is the very same woman who my ex-husband & I used to hang around with, along with her successful husband, who is still successful I might add, and who’s the general manager of the company he’s been working for throughout the past 20 years or so. This woman also has 2 very beautiful & talented children with that man. This woman was not only an insurance broker when we used to hang with them, but she also had a lot of weight on her & she obviously pulled a lot of weight at that time. Now she does nothing but pull at her greasy hair, pull up her baggy clothes, pull people’s stuff right out of their hands, pull people’s belongings from their drawers if they’re not watching, and pull on men’s dicks. And she does all of this pulling for a rock – a rock of crack cocaine, that is… the very same rock which has not only been pulling her to it but has also been pulling her down! 



This neighbourhood used to be a fine established neighbourhood when I was a child, with mainly white-folk living all around me, mostly with surnames like White, MacDonald & Taylor – uno what I’m trying to say here. We used to be able to leave our bikes unlocked outside, along with our ladders & the like, while having absolutely no qualms about protecting our valuables. Now that this neighbourhood has gradually become riddled with nothing but crack addicts (that are mainly composed of prostitutes, thieves & black people), you’d be surprised if you still have your downspout intact when you wake up & get your morning paper! Not only have the streets where I live been overtaken taken by this drug-infested squalor, they’re also attracting the potential customers of both the prostitutes & drug-dealers, who drive around the neighbourhood, circling the blocks, slowing down left & right, while being nothing but pestering nuisances to the good hard-working civilians who grew up in this neighbourhood, the people who conduct legitimate businesses here, and the ones who want to safely walk the streets & alleyways. I have been sitting back watching this impending doom gradually enfold throughout the past 10 years especially, and the shitty atmosphere in general around here has added a lot of unnecessary stress & strain in my life to the point that I feel that I can no longer abide in this type of environment.  I used to leave my front door open all the time, without having to worry about who would be walking in here, other than maybe my good friends, my brother or my neighbours. Now I make sure that my door is locked at all times, and I even wedge a bar that my boyfriend cut for me out of wood between the door & the bannister in the front hall when I’m at home. At least I feel at ease knowing that no one can surprise me, unless a roof-hopper lifts one of my windows up & climbs right in (like my girlfriend & I used to do when we were teens, haha , but we didn’t do this to steal things & it was only for some adventure when we knew the homes vacant). But I can’t really worry about feeling unsafe right now ’cause Gladys Krabitz (across the street) will look out for me  …so how ‘bout I meet y’awl later down at Cracker Corners for some ice cream? Hee hee hee! WML


Meetcha here if you dare, & don’t forget your  & my


PS  I have free tickets to the circus if anyone’s anarrested


One Response to “GRAND CENTRAL STATION (Up/Down Town & The King/Sherman District During Down-Time)”

  1. ♥ Bekkie June 6, 2009 at 5:36 pm #

    LOL! That was a good joke, tickets to the circus….unfortunately this has happened even in my small home town in Michigan City, Indiana. My best friend that lives here in the Oakland Hills has me stay over when her husband goes out of town because she\’s afraid to stay alone. Even tho she lives in a "rich" neighborhood and has neighbors. Yet she leaves her door unlocked when she goes shopping (or whatever) and thinks nothing of that! I don\’t get it! I live in a security building with 2 locked gates wihich you need the keys for to get in and still (remember my roof hopper) people get in that aren\’t suppose to be here. That\’s cause my stupid neighbors hold the doors open for them to get in sometimes, not even asking why or who the frick they are! This building only has 5 floors and if you have half a brain you know who lives here and who doesn\’t. Living in a wonderful city like I do just attracks the nut cases and people that want to rip you off. It\’s just a fact of life. Also (and I don\’t know how) a few people actually do jump on the roof and come down the fire escape or inner stairs. This is a hard thing to do cause our roof is not easy to jump to and there\’s no where to climb up to it, but it has been done! All this is a sad fact of the times. With all of the homeless and or druggies learching around on the streets no matter where you live you have to use your head and lock everything you can up when you leave home. Sad, but true as Metallica wrote. ❤

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