Oldest Memories

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I grew up in a very old New York. A New York that has been all but lost by now. A smoky, young, poor, dirty, beautiful, shimmering, romantic New York. A New York actual people could live in and move too. I lived in the city that created the myth that people now spend their millions pretending to live in today. I grew up in the real thing. I grew up in the city Marilyn Monroe had her skirt blow’d up in. I lived in the city where Muhammad Ali mocked and danced. I lived in the city where Frank Sinatra made it. I lived in the city Woody Allen couldn’t help but fall in love with over and over again.


I used to run round those streets, I was walking to and from school on my own from 8 years old! The freedom allowed to kids and all young people in the city those days would be unthinkable today. I guess appropriately so. But it sure sucks the soul out of a city. It’s a crying shame that we people can’t just be in the city and live freely. I feel that a lot of it is a matter of perspective and stupid, stupid fear. Fear sings from the pavements in New York City these days. Back then people counted themselves as people on the up no matter what there situation, with one eye back on the depression the only way was up and we all felt like we were going up, up, up.


Where as now it is a constant struggle with no success and no relief. Even the rich are scared and sad, and the poor are scared and desperate. And why wouldn’t you be? It’s a damn scary and desperate place and a damn scary and desperate life.