Vignettes of Summer

New things of note.


Rollerblades. very. very. cool here.
I often go down to the docks, one of the fancy red-brick/posh areas of the city, and a short walk from my home, to feel some nice breezes and sit by the water and relax and read. And of course lots of other people do the same.

And most of them are on rollerblades.

I've seen more roller skates in two hours reading at the docks than I had seen in all of my life combined, not including those brief middle school outings to rollerskating rinks. In that case, I will see in two hours more rollerbladers here than in one of said strange middle school outings.

And speaking of those. Those were really fun. really fun. some activity kids could do. but how strange - what an horribly awkward activity. It seems sort of cruel - we are going to take you at your most awkwardest age, and put you with your peers and other kids you have crushes on, which you couldn't be worse at maneuvering, and we are going to make you do it all with rollerskates. jaja. i wonder if kids these days still have these outings, or if these days it's just bowling.

moving onn....

MARICÓN
walking through a plaza near my house with a sandbox for kids to play in, I saw a little boy alongside crying. He was probably five. His father sitting on the stone border of the kids' play area threw sand in his face and said "deja de llorar, no seas maricón". Stop crying, don't be a whimp/faggot. what an ass.

HOMBRE SIN TECHO
In this same plaza, there is a homeless man, with hair like Einstein and the wrinkly orange tan of an old woman in Los Angeles, with a decent-sized belly and usually very close to naked. One day he actually was naked, sitting along the stone benches while kids played in the nearby sandbox and while old very wrinkly women sipped maté and chattered slowly about the neighborhood. Then he was gone for a few weeks. Two days ago, I saw him being shaven by some good guy in his 40s who just decided the man deserved a shave. beautiful.
Then a week or so later someone, maybe the same man, had given him an old buttondown shirt and slacks. He looked almost schnazzy. he was sitting outside at a parrilla restaurant that I past walking home from work. I wouldn't have noticed him as a homeless if I hadn't recognized him. But then the next day I saw him and his shirt was gone.

COMISARÍA
I live two blocks away from a police station which was used to organize the kidnapping of people, to detain and torture them, and disappear them 30 years ago. It is still a police station today. Every time I walk by it I think, there is nothing. no sign. no marker. no proof of what happened inside. nothing to mark the memory of the people who suffered.
Today I went inside.
Starting the process of my legalization, to no longer be an "illegal" or tiptoeing the lines with the frequent renewal of 3mth tourist visas, I have to get a "certificate of residence" to prove I live in some apartment somewhere which is a paper from my nearest police station. Which happened to be that building.
I've been in a dozen former clandestine torture and detention centers, but this was different. This one was not a site of memory, had no library or art. or even just empty. there were old vintage pictures of police men. it's a deteriorating, sad, dark and dank facility. I was surprised by its lack of upkeep considering how nice it looks from the outside.

RATS
my battles with cockroaches continue, but my friend Frenkel had a great perspective that I reconsider frequently. They are better than rats. And they cant fly. And they dont bite you. So whats really the big deal? they are a nuisance, but yes Frenkel, you are right, id rather have cockroaches than rats.