dear….el

I start to think maybe it is not so bad.no, because, it felt there still are things I am not really desiring to leave just yet. Sometimes things happen that seem to ruin everything but then you see later that there was this feeling ….and I know what it is. it is a love hate because I detest my street; derelicts; the crime corner—like a corner of Miami Florida all over again. Without the palm trees. And the last frontier of the Adirondaks has this strange appeal to me still

What is it? Like the old tv show Northern Exposure; I like the unknown corner aspect of it hidden inches by Canada and Vermont like a secret valley. But, yeah, it’s got its skid row sense that maybe reminds me of my love of Punk and alternative. The dirty grunge. The spray paint. The university students. Then the breathtaking sudden views of nature cheek by jowl by the rundown weird houses with creative architectural ad-ons and all colors that remind me of quilters or scrapbookers. The tie dye curtains. The rampant sunflowers crawling everywhere. The air always smelling like weed; the porches that became front rooms with another porch added in front. The unexpected gardens and the unexpected garages with reggae music blasting as dreadlocked artists work on stained glass. So strange here, it is. 

Not as bad a strange as where I was before here. Which I don’t think I’m quite over nor any of the other.i feel like partly wanting to not come out yet—I resisted this change, I think, I had. 

Is it the Faun and Grant story these streets inspired that remains unfinished?