Today: March 7, 2019
There’s a huge tower being built across the street from us. It’s half-built now, the concrete skeleton rising high and filling up our entire window, blocking some of our precious sunlight. I see construction men walking around inside the layers, wearing yellow or orange shirts. I’m waiting for them to wrap the building in glass windows, so we can get our final view of what it will look like. I didn’t want to have the building there, blocking our light, cluttering up our neighborhood with a thousand quasi-corporate assholes who don’t really live here but who view my neighborhood as their urban playground.
But so long as the new building is coming, I’d rather it be finished. Let’s get it over with.
Cities grow. They change. Living here, that’s part of the deal. Over a decade we’ve lost various views, and gained dozens of restaurants, thousands of new neighbors, and more coffee shops than you can count. Minding this is an exercise in silliness, because a city is a living thing. You can’t change it any more than you can stop a child from growing up. You can’t more fight it any more than you can fight your own breathing. City people know that when they arrived they changed the city too. How could you deny someone else what you have already received in full?
But they’d better stay away from my Starbucks. Ha!
This morning I’m feeling unsure of where to start. But I’ll remember Hemingway’s advice to himself, which is to write ONE true sentence. Once I find my sentence, I’ll be off and running.