The Bronx Be Like..

Another day. Another walk? A random walk does not typically fit into my routine, my schedule for the day.  But, unlike the first time of flaneuring, I was ready to explore; I possessed a mindset of vigilance and oddly enough coolness.   Determined to go and spot some obscurities and fascinations, particularly on a rather decent day of weather compared to the days following this day, I exited my building with my camera/phone in hand. This walk may or may not be better than last time. Oh well, we’ll see. Time to start strolling. 

Look left. Look right.The dilemma of choosing a direction. Thank goodness someone created, “ Eeeny meeny miney moe”.  Eeeny meeny miney moe. Alright I guess I’ll go right. 

Wandering on W 205^th, I spy, through a barricade of fences with openings, an intriguing site with trains. Trains that seemed run down, totally out of service, and simply washed up. They rested on the tracks, dead serpents tranquilized by dirt, debris, rust, and all sorts of other substances probably. I scrutinize them, spotting a dim orange circle with the letter D inside in it. Seeing that spurred curiosity and a bunch of questions?  How did these trains get here? Wouldn’t there be a better place for them to be at? The sight of that slightly freaked me out, thinking that the place is merely a dumping site. Especially in the Bronx. As if nobody cares. Then again, the Bronx in general is pretty disadvantaged so I can somewhat understand them. 

A locked entrance stood in front of me beside that spectacle unfortunately.  “City of New York Entrance to Concourse Yard” carved on top of the door. And guess what was on the door and on other sections of the entrance? The appalling, acclaimed art of Graffiti. Yet, the graffiti appeared not as foul, harsh, or exotically designed. I deciphered some words on the narrow and long gray door and on parts of the cement. Free. Revenge. Zero. Deck. Where is the connection? What is the message? An answer only God and the graffiti artists know. I did not want to crack my brain trying to unravel their code, so I kept walking.

I stop in the middle of sidewalk. I need to pee.  Very badly. Crap! I spot a porta potty nearby and rush towards it. I prudently turned the handle and open the door, and entered a world of filth, stench, and obscene dirt. Filled with wet rubber bags, NYC condoms, puddles of water, scattered dirty leaves. Alright, Kwadwo. Just piss quickly and bounce. While I doing that, I notice some more graffiti. Seeing that incite me to realize that graffiti is prevalent everywhere, especially in the Bronx. Any property or place can fall victim to it.

J/EMS and Romans 6:9 stylistically written on the front of the black toilet seat. Once again an obvious connection could not be created. Maybe someone was insulting someone else. Maybe a fervent follower of Jesus Christ yearning to spread the good news anywhere. Or something else. 

On another side of the light blue cubicle were the bubble letters “DFA” styled as if each letter was slowly melting. Seeing that, I thought, “Must be initials for some small gang or something. Or an insult.”

After that observation/ urination, I left the porta potty and recognized that I should promenade elsewhere. The place I was at edged closer and closer to nothing but mundane sights and dullness. I turned around and started walking all the way to Van Cortland Park and 242^nd street. I see something that I have quite never seen before while living in the Bronx.  

Geese. Freaking geese on the patches of grass on the uneven baseball field. Moseying and quacking. Seemed like they were searching for food and enjoying the weather too. Seeing those creatures mesmerized me. I simply did not think that geese would come to Van Cortland Park, let alone the Bronx, and do their thing. It was pretty surprising to see that. So much so that I had to, as a flaneur especially, take a picture.  

It’s getting dark. Oh man I want to explore more but I think I’ve done enough exploring. If only my walk was as action-packed and intense as a Dora the Explorer adventure. Or perhaps Rush-Hour like. Man that would be live as hell.