connecting*the*dots

Wow. I have a new sister and my mom and dad aren’t responsible.

Andy proposed to his girl, Angela, yesterday on top of Mount Shasta and, after crying for about five minutes, she eeked out a "yes." Angela Coon… her parents love Andy, but I’m sure they wished our last name was different. Haha. Tough luck. C’mon ladies, line up! There’s only one spot left to become a Coon. Um… just kidding. I’m not shopping this season, thanks.

Congrats you two. love ya (awww)

My afternoon routine on the weekend often finds me kicking back at the College Hill Diner, reading the NY Post and munching on a Turkey Club. Well, yesterday I got my club sandwich, but ran into the fuzz while trying to land my 25¢ rag.

For over a year I’ve been prognosticating that at least one of the shops in my hood is a front for something mad illegal, and yesterday, my assumption was confirmed on one level or another. As I tried to open the door to my local bodega/deli, I was kept in the street by a squad of police in flack jackets. A few minutes rolled by and the group came out of the store with the owner in cuffs. No explanation was given by the employees except, "the cops took the owner away." No shit, Sherlock, but I want to know if he was running drugs or white slaves. Hell, I get better gossip on Page Six.

Anyhow, I dropped my quarter on the counter, grabbed my paper and headed out. Next week it’ll be more drama. Life in the big city.

I just spent the last weekend in Chi-town with my brother, Andy, and my mother, Nancy (now you know 3/4 of the Coon clan). We chewed up about 12 hours in front of the big screen, catching numerous independent films at the Digital Visions Film Festival where andy had entered his documentary for review.

At the end of the festival, Andy walked away with the award for Best Research Documentary with “Greensboro’s Child.” As compelling as the story is on it’s own, Andy’s filmmaking makes a poignant story both personal and uplifting. I’m sure if you contacted him for a copy, he would be more than happy to send you one.

Now that’s one proud mama Coon.

I’ve only been a NYC resident for the past three years, but after going through last 9/11 and commuting past ground zero every day for the past six-months, I’ve come to realize that no matter where I live for the rest of my life, I’ll always consider myself a New Yorker.

The people here in this city are fighters. They get knocked down, but get right back up and offer the other cheek in defiance. I’ve dealt with a ton of adversity in my life and consider myself someone who doesn’t relent easily, but I’m more than humbled by the collective resolve of my neighbors here.

There’s no way to express the grief that’s shared on a day like today, but this morning I had the opportunity to overhear a conversation between a group of firefighters on the train that I wanted to share.

They seemed somewhat somber while beginning to talk about a fallen brother from a year ago, so I braced myself for the remainder of the conversation.

What do these guys end up doing?

For the entire 7 stop ride, they cracked on his horrible cooking around the ladder company back in the day.

New York.

sleep ain’t coming tonight
i’m not gonna front
no need to fight
my senses are wide open
ripped apart at the seams
i start to drift off
and then come the dreams
twisted schemes
silent screams
twin light beams
the theme it seems
is a familiar one
i’ve felt it before
and before i know it
i’m through the bedroom door
sweat on my brow
hair straight on end
i thought this wouldn’t phase me
i thought i was on the mend
but this fucking feeling won’t die
no matter how hard i try
to deal with it straight up
or look in the mirror and lie
i’m a new yorker
through to the core
but before this moment
i would’ve swore
that this was just a stint
a lease in time for me
but the bond was in place
long before the overkill of reality
before my neighbors were taken out
before allah lost part of his good name
before the skyline was raped
before the unwanted fame
before…

man
i swear i never get it right
i try to spread the love and instead end up in a fight
complex emotions
unconfirmed notions
spilling into my life
like a river to an ocean
and while i struggle to stack the sandbags high
weathering the storm to get on by
in comes another blow
fucking with my mind
i’m trying not to get upset
i’m even trying to understand
but my life needs to be lived
and i don’t need a helping hand
telling me where i should go
or who i should see
we don’t have it like that
not you and me
but if you change up and are cool
with the fact that i’m me
give me a shout
and i’ll make myself free
for you