The threat of rain was a constant for the floating book shop today. I set out only one-quarter of my wares, certain I'd have to make a quick getaway. I don't know if that put a damper on business or if folks just weren't interested in buying books. The eight volume set of Jack London, translated into Russian, is not seeing any love its first two days on the market. Fortunately I had three visitors that helped pass the time, and they were angry, my friends. Mountain Man, a retired postman, spewed his usual bile, directed at all politicians. He sees no good anywhere in anything. I don't know how anyone can live like that, but anger seems to be his comfort. I share his cynicism about most of those in office, especially in NYC, but I refuse to let them make me unhappy. I do a good enough job of that myself.
Joe, a Vietnam vet, retired from a dual career as a tax accountant and private eye, was about to cross East 13th when he was startled by a driver who came to an abrupt halt short of the crosswalk. He let a verbal barrage fly at the miscreant with both barrels. The young fool behind the wheel laughed at him. Fortunately, he had sense enough not to exit his car. Joe is fed up with Brooklyn and wants to move south. During our conversation, I found out what may have made him so short-tempered today. His lower left leg is swollen with water. It's twice the size of his right leg. He had just taken blood pressure bills. "Don't let him ruin your day," I said quietly. He wasn't much calmer on his return. "I may kill somebody if I don't get atta here," he told me. He said he was dying to pick a fight, that it had been so long since he'd had one. He had 14 knockouts as a Golden Glover. "I never got goin' until I tasted my own blood, then I went wild."
Finally, my most faithful customer, Marie, stopped by and related the chaos that occurred at her co-op meeting last night. Political Man was there, shouting at others, calling one woman "a Russian whore." Marie asked if I suspected he was bipolar, given his penchant to air his liberal views to strangers on the street. "He can't control himself," was all I said. I thought about it after Marie left and doubted it was clinical. It's just the way Political Man is.
I've never attended a meeting in my own complex. I consider myself lucky to have purchased my apartment. When I did I had no idea it would work out so well. I paid it off in 13 years and now feel as if I'm saving at least $500 every month on the rent I would have been paying. The only people in the city whose expenses are less than mine are those receiving massive public assistance. How could I complain? I'll adapt to whatever shenanigans the board proposes. Given all the work that has been done on the three buildings the past few years and the fact that many apartments remain rent-controlled, I fear it is a financial house of cards in jeopardy of collapse, even if all the old tenants died off tomorrow.
Vic's 4th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Horror Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3
Vic's Rom-Com Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kny5llp
Vic’s Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
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