rediscovering the shit on my shoes

I had a revelation tonight that, were I living back east or at least were I living in Baltimore, where I lived would be a tony neighborhood. I mean, the fucking former CAA building might as well be The Belvedere. Not to be confused with the Mister. 

Fuck, location is central, basics are almost perfect, you even get a walk past city hall and its gilded dome to go to work -- but this qualifies as inner city west-coast style. The respectable neighborhoods are all up the hill or less developed "neighborhoods," that, while they qualify as such, are much too large to substantiate basic civil existence on an old-world scale (meaning -- before cars existed). And I've met too many people here who will get their car to go half a block. True story. But that's an aside, and let's talk about the hill thing.

Now, make no mistake I don't think this is a bad idea: in general the riff-raff is less inclined to climb, esp. when it means they get farther away from freeway traffic, but something in this idea strikes me as horribly wrong. The buildings here are some of the oldest, not this pretty victorian shit but something that survived the quakes by being made well, or were made after it and are made even better.

Moreover, the monuments, arts, structure of the area says it should be so much better. And what is it? An effing ghetto. If I have one thing that always pissed me off about suburban life back east and west-of-the-appalachian culture in general is that if it means you have to be around people regularly, you must live in a ghetto. Not in a place that requires more substantive existence and people always being on their wits. No, you need to acclimate to the stupidity of the ghetto to get around beauty.

I've always said that if I ever went back to Europe, I'd never come back. I'm still tempted, but next stop (cross my fingers) will be New York. I'm done here. For several years now.