YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!

Sunday presented Washington Heights with its first Spring-ish day. The ominous drug-wielding parkas were cast aside for parkas wielding more drugs due to the lessened need of insulation. So, your hero, Superman, did something in a comic somewhere. This blog's hero, me, cried a little, then took a long walk through his neighborhood, an activity touted by both enterprising hookers and bored homosexuals.

Early Cathars believed that humans are essentially evil, and no argument here. However, sometimes on a not-quite-spring day, when the air is still crisp, yet devoid of winter's death-like embrace, one may sense that, despite our inherent evil, humanity might just have a chance.

So, I embarked north-ish-ward. Now, if you've ever been to Washington Heights, chances are, you don't want to come back. The best parts of this derelict nightmare are laced with animal entrails and refuse, aggressive garbage (no one litters as thoughtfully and as much as a denizen of Washington Heights), and buildings where the rats and cockroaches may be the most conscientious inhabitants.

If one follows Fort Washington north to about 180th Street, he gets gang-raped. Just beyond that, there are a series of beautiful Tudor-style apartment buildings on Pinehurst Avenue that look like they belong in a another city, quite frankly. Most likely in England, about a couple hundred years ago.



The people who live here are a lot like the Gelflings in the Dark Crystal. They are largely oblivious to the fact that great danger lurks everywhere around them and that they, in fact, have butterfly wings (at least the females do).

North of that lay Fort Tryon Park. During the Revolutionary War, British run imperial spaceships docked here in order to infiltrate Inwood. When all they could find was Chimichurri trucks, their fucking heads exploded. However, one can still see the naval advantage of a route up the Hudson River, securing that last bastion of American pride and beauty, New Jersey.



As I stared at the majesty of the Hudson and the flowing, living history of it, I happened to glance down at the stone barrier before me.



Yeah...truer words have never been spoken.