arrived in Brooklyn...

about 5:15. The memorial for Ms. Livingston, who died needlessly four years from yesterday when, in police custody, the cops guarding her refused to call an EMT (sitting upstairs) when she asked for medical help, was just setting up. As they were doing this, I took a walk south on East 18---a street filled with old apartment houses. Mostly west Indian now, the block seemed kind of mellow. Returned and joined the memorial and call for help. The victim's mother spoke---recounted the horrible events that lead to her daughter's death. Really frightening! That one group of human beings could do that to another. A small group to begin, but it grew, and it was a mixture of black and white activists,. also, others on the near by corners, giving out information. I remained for about a half hour---I would have remained longer, but I found that I had a great need to pee, and there were no "suitable" places in the area for me to do so and come back to the protest. As I said, earlier, by the time I left, the area was filled with activists and so I did not feel I would be missed.
  What did I do? Well, I walked on Church a few blocks---found nothing there, then walked south to Cortelyou Road, where I did my thing at the local Connecticut Muffin. Sipping my ice coffee on a bench on Cortelyou, a noticed how calm the area was---a far cry from the almost intense hustle and bustle and crowdedness that I found on East 18th and Church. So with the coffee finished, the heat still burning down, and and no real hunger pains, I opted for the bus that goes north on Coney Island Avenue and closes down at a juncture of Prospect Park and the South Slope. A really interesting trip---Coney Island avenue rather baron until the park---the the ride down Prospect Park southwest---a very languid and quiet area of very nice houses and small apartment houses---I think this is the first time I really noticed how mellow the area is. Off at the beginning of Prospect Park west, I walked a bit south, found no place I really wanted to go into (by this point I was becoming hungry), then walked west to 8th Avenue. A long walk north was really interesting---the quiet on 8th avenue, again, as compared to the frenetic pace and closeness of Flatbush--showed how different the energy is in the different areas. Still, I could find no where that I wanted to go into ( or could afford) so I jumped on the F and took it Delancey and the old reliable La Flaca for some wings and baseball. Glad that I did, Bob, the owner, my friend now for about 17 years was there, and we talked, then I joined Angela and Sam, two women friends at the bar, for an interesting and vibrant conversation about their family's past. I left for home feeling very constructive and satisfied.
      Today, a fund raising party for M Top in Prospect Heights, and then possibly a visit to Bronx Documentary Project to look at photos and hear the photographer talk. A 'long' voyage from Brooklyn to the south Bronx. Will I make it? I will report soon.