All the world is a stage, but especially the city. I sit in a place that is comfortable and familiar to me. If I were blindfolded, I’d know every sound and every voice and I’d hear the buses rumble past me and whine as they Doppler away. I hear them on Carson, suddenly way louder if someone pulls open one of the jangling old nicked-up purple doors. I am in a public place, and yet I am more habituated to this place than I am to my own little divorce apartment. By far.
The man in the window has begun his sex change transition in the way I believe is mandated by the doctors; he is dressing like a woman. His taste in clothing is conservative and he looks like Hillary from the neck down. Actually, let’s just say from the chin down, because he has Hillary neck.
There is a man behind me who I believe to be acutely mentally ill. Scratch that-I KNOW he is mentally ill because I’ve seen him for the last 100 days and he makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think he is going to “do” something, I just feel his suffering. The gentleman’s condition is untreated, and I often think I should try to talk to him and guide him to the help he critically needs. But I know how hard it is to “make” a person get treatment. It is a job for close family or professional, not strangers with their own delusions. My inner conflict over this matter falls squarely within the Urban Drama.
Some of my classmates are understandably critical of Mr. Lynch’s apparent urban favoritism, but the suburbs do not provide as many opportunities to be in close quarters with strangers. There is also a lack of compelling architecture.
(This restroom is periodically painted over with a dark color. It is said to look like this in less than a month.)
There is an historic precedent in play when the city is the stage. Women’s Suffragists Conveyed their message in town. If your dad wanted a loan, he put on a suit and went to town. The serious court cases take place downtown.
(This photograph depicts a confrontation between a police officer and an Occupy protestor. the occupy protestor was my friend. He is gone.)
There is a saying that “justice unseen is justice undone.” It points out that whatever the magnitude of a given event, it must be witnessed by people in order to be admitted to the record. It is the Cartesian disconnect. The city is where the action is.