We would arrive in Williamsburg, the green BQE lane would suspend over us, and I’d hear the constant humming of engines and wheels. Here’s shade, cool and comforting. I’d get outside, stretch my legs and run outside the car to the welcoming sight of my grandfather. He was the down to earth, urban St. Francis to the hood. I could remember all the cats and dogs he feed and took care of in the building’s basement. If I was hungry, he’d spend his last quarter on matching sure my stomach wasn’t growling. I’d see him standing there, clean shaven, whispy white hair, and clean clothes; a sign of someone proud, a person that anybody would want to be friends with. He’d take me, my older brother Jason and parents up to his place. Without even asking, he’d feed us immediately; ask us a million questions about how we’re doing. Grandma Maria would sit in her rocker, watching tele-dramas over the humming of the rickety fan and gaze at Jason and I with a slight tear falling down. My crazy Uncle Louie would come up the stairs yelling and chant to the other neighbors that we have arrived. I would sit in that wicker chair, play with Grandpa’s newfound toys and watch the glistening of my father’s eyes when he talked to Grandpa. No violence or gunplay ever rose from the building. We were in solace, yellow tiled walls, a piss smelling hallway that separated us from the what happened outside, and neighboring sentries that always talked to us about what we were, not how were doing. The visits were brief, I was young and I didn’t appreciate how special those times were. I only knew I was in NY, seeing Grandpa. Brooklyn didn’t matter to me, I was with him.

            Some years pass, and I I’m suddenly 18, and they’re gone. I’m now closer to my grandparents than I’ve ever been, but I can’t visit them. They’re building is someone else stoop, a different place where the roaches are insidious, the people are cautious and the hallway smells of something else. I can never go there again. Slowly, within another few years, that place will be gone too. It’ll probably become a thrift store or Urban Outfitters. My father would tell me of all the wisdom and insights his parents gave him, but he didn’t listen until they were near death. My mother’s mom just turned 83, and I haven’t spoken to her either, I can’t, I don’t know enough Spanish and she doesn’t know enough English.  I feel guilty.  I don’t want to listen to my dad’s sayings, yet what he says keeps coming back to me as truth. He would tell me that the greatest treasures that his mother told him were my dad and his brothers. Now he turns and says the same to me. I question now, who will I be and what can treasure for them?

In someways, this moment reminds me of one scene in New York, New York, in the main character’s youth, he bought a cupcake from the local bakery for his sweetheart only to be shot down. I believe this classical image of rejection gains much appeal from the audience because many people can relate to being rejected and the theme itself is a cliche.

“Uh…I’m new around here, how do I get to Fleetwood?” Me
“You’re not new son, i’ve seen you around…hehehee…I know that you’ve been here last sunday” Man
“..Sir, I haven’t meet you before…(I’m feeling real uncomfortable at this point) Me
“Hey Chuck we got a dead one here, listen son, I’m only messing but there your way is, I’ll see you next Sunday” Man

Alright, that was really creepy, he had this slow voice, which seemed like Hannibal Lector’s. Boy are those Metro North trains really nice, so much better than those grease ridden, danky, grotty seats back on the G. Well, I had a feast for the eyes. The train left around 7:25 and when got to the upperdeck, the cab was divided into two. The east was dark, like a azure color, while the west saw the the setting sun. At this point I thought, its unfair how one side of the world is dark while the other is lit. A little selfish, eh?

I did make it to my older brother’s place and spent his birthday with him and his friends.

Thats my story for this weekend.

you make it to one tower, looking at what you have accomplished, a city before you, but wirefencing from Williamsburg blocks your view, for you see, others saw this and leapt off, hoping that thy wear carried on wings of grace, that fool Icarus.

Pissing on cars going udnerneath you causes a major rukus, they honk and yell, but creatures of the earth cannot harm the creatures of the air. Holding my girlfriends hand, sweat beads down between our palms and we both have this smitten look on our faces. First instance of puppy love, with the occasional I love Yous and long laborious phonecalls grants me this please to have that beautiful body stand next to me. That firey hair that is top knotted and guarded like that child in time-out. the downward slope of the bridge brings us racing towards the bottom, plunging straight into downtown Manhattan, Dad is already there.

Yet, I can remember this all, as Dad and I on standing at our usual spot, watching people go by while I am munching on two dollar dumplings from a shanty.

Why this bridge?

Sardonic

Four chicken mcnuggets walking alongside dad and son both dark and from the frying pan

FANTASTIC CLEANERS got visited by a lesser man BEETLEGUESE as SHARE THE BUBBLY wizzes by red blue ellow are obnoxious playing off children time pieces the cow goes MOOOOOOOOOOO As diesal engines and the roaring and clanking of the xlophone conine on MYRTLE

Telephone Booth next to but no outside of a glass stand wait call mom while a crushed tune worms its wa down your cotton polyester shirt

Cookies baked and creamed are proudly served in an authentic NATHaNS outside of a gas station CITGO walls hold in a church of sisters but BROOKLYN is home to brothers

turn turn turn comes out of a CROWN FRIED heaby greased oculars lare at me present the ID PASS and the last train to smallville ran off the track last night said the watchman with the yellow tie on platform 19 yet he points to one raggedy sign dangling like the stressed tendons from a limb amputee WELCOME TO CLINTON HILL

But let us continue. There is a striking scene on page 40 that gives a subtle hint as to the aging of Peter Walsh and Clarissa Dalloway:

“Exactly the same, though Clarissa; the same queer look; the same check suit; a little out of the straight his case is, a little thinner, dryer, perhaps, but he looks awfully well, and just the same”

Whats going on here, Peter Walsh shows up unannounced to Clarissa. The back story is, Peter was one of Clarissa’s suitors, about thirty years ago. However, Richard Dalloway beat him to the marriage, Peter hasn’t let go of Clarissa, even after 30 years. Peter figured that marrying a different woman and starting a family in India would change his love for Clarissa, but he was wrong. He still finds it in himself that he can never stop loving her at this point in the novel, he even compares her to other women. As for the repetition of “same”, Woolf is stating that thirty years hasn’t changed Clarissa or Peter mentally.

What captivated my attention in the film was each person’s understanding of doing the right thing. The Mayor, the neighborhood drunk, tells the main character, Mooki, to do the right thing; of course, the definition is left to one’s personal interpretation which shifts towards racial values or the easy solution. Key scenes such as the attitude problem presented by the characters Doctor and Pino show the racial tensions and lack of communication in both parties when put into situations. Doctor simply wants african-american people on Sal’s hall of fame because all the patrons are of color, yet Sal states no, which causes Doctor to become zealous and eventually gain followers under the racial card. Likewise, Pino, who wishes to not tolerate the black community, decides to vent his anger and racism toward Smiley, a mentally challenged vendor of Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcolm X pictures. As noted, the racism card shifts between gain for one person or for a community, despite pondering the repurcussions. The one scene, which many have qouted is the climax of the movie, the conflagration at Sal’s Pizzeria. The black community are Sal’s only patrons, he feeds the community, yet, because the community holds Sal responsible for the death of Radio Rahim, they justify his death, and the deaths of other colored folk from the neighborhood by raiding Sal’s Pizzeria, and burning it down. Yet, Sal is the provider, the so-called hand that feeds the populace, is not in any way, responsible, for Rahim’s resistance and death. The point is, the people became excited and ignorant to the group’s true actions.

Another striking point of this movie is the evolution of Mooki. The introduction of Mooki is him waking with his sister Jane in the heat of the morning. Mooki represents the working person who seeks a better way in life, despite his lack of care towards his job at Sal’s. His probable future in the film’s plot is high, he might be going to greater things, especially when the Mayor gives him the advice to “Do the Right Thing”, yet later on, Mooki doesn’t do the right thing. He was the first person to damage the pizzeria, the only job that’s supporting him right now; he isn’t with his family: wife and son, and doesn’t heed his own advice when telling Pino’s younger brother to defend himself. Mookie is the immature man who may have knowledge about life, but not any true wisdom.

As stated earlier, essential ism did play a role in the film’s characters, as how Spike Lee had each racial group act towards what they’re known for respectively, despite the dynamic characters of Mother-Sister, Mooki, and Mayor. Every person was ready to burn and destroy Sal’s Pizzeria even though, Sal was the only non-colored person present.

I know I’m making a long piece here, but I figured that I can get this all out. Including all that was written earlier in this review, I do have one favourite scene inwhich I can tie to. I believe somewhere in the middle of the movie, a hispanic man is pulling a “piyagua”  cart and sells the dessert to kids. I like this image alot because I can remember being in Williamsburg or downtown Manhattan with my dad or grandpa and eating shaved ice. The ice is symbolic is because you’re presented with a huge block of ice; your first thought is, all that ice is for me, but thats where you’re wrong. After several passes of a small blade, you have a cup full of ice and sugar water. This represents the community at whole. There’s alot for everybody and plenty to share, but some individuals want it to be one color or flavor such as cherry, but there’s plenty more…orange, black raspberry, lemon, coconut and so forth. The fact that only the kids take part in the shaved ice demonstrates how the children at an early age are presented with this dilemma of racism, but don’t act upon it because they realize that no one person can belong solely to one group only when it fits him. There are days when we want cherry, or even lime. Anyways, that was really long, sorry there.

Other than that, the movie was excellent and I’d recommend it to anyone.