Impractical Cartography

Volume 1

Copyright © 2013 Impractical Cartography All rights reserved. Contributing authors reserve all rights to their respective works.

Editors: Kristine Conroy and Michael Torsell Book design: Joel Brenden

Second printing: 75 books.

Printed by Avalon Document Services (Buffalo, NY). Bound by Quality Bindery Inc. (Buffalo, NY). Covers printed at The Western New York Book Arts Collaborative (Buffalo, NY). Letterpress plates prepared by Boxcar Press (Syracuse, NY). Impractical Cartography

Buffalo, NY up the next morning) But Buff allo er- made me feel like able “Ah what the heck.” rust Th anks for that Bu- belt fallo. THANKS. mindset? My body aches. My head or am I just hurts. But my heart is an asshole? It fi lled. And Gooey. doesn’t really And Smiling. matter much. Maybe that’s because the I love it here, drinks where cheap. I really do. 2 Red Stripes. one Still, every What my pre- change in place with its Yuengling. A shot of Jack. year I hope vious writing failed to capture, is just that, would help her fi nd success in a little rat And a Seagram’s Manhattan. that, one way my failure to capture my own capturing. career she loved. What she found is hand. $17. NEEEEDDD I SAY or another, I Each time, each piece of writing, those trees became that even expectation is a place- the Boop.” MoRE!! Th ank you Mul- will not have a focal point of the work. It speaks to this other city space of wanting something to be a ligans!! other small to see another certain way and needing to believe “Shit, winter. that I live in, alone. I almost things: Kim was my it will be. bartender at Mulligans. Kim “No. You must get out of the sandbox.” stepped When asked Another friend just moved back home right on top of was awesome. I wanted a to map Buf- I stared at him blankly. It wasn’t his thick french ac- manhattan. She didn’t have cent that was confusing. I just wasn’t expecting this as after years living and building a life in one once be- falo, I have to Th ey came to rely on grass- a diff erent city. Her letter speaks to cause I figured sweet vermouth or a glass. say-- where do a response to asking him if he would write me a letter (she had the little side bar). roots organizing to achieve of recommendation. “What?” place in a diff erent manner, in how it would dart out of the I start? community-centric goals. we manage to curate and upkeep way! Th at was the time I dropped When I came up later to pay Maybe I talk about “Why won’t you apply anywhere else? Don’t tell me my tab she excited told me how she Th ey made a point of it’s for a boy.” “No, um, no boy. I just, I dunno, I like a whole map of places in our lives the tray with three steak sandwiches on it my high school without feeling scattered. Yet there’s a and he threw one of the skillets across the kitchen had found me a glass! And found me experiences of skip- knowing and relying on their neigh- it here, I have a job… an apartment… I dunno.” some sweet vermouth. And that I bors. balance we crave between the diff erent and then threatened to take it out of ‘my pay.’ He got even ping classes to go “I will write you the letter.” “oh, okay, thank—“ opportunities our diverse maps of place madder when I laughed at that—I mean, come on, you’re going could have a manhattan. or I could to Spot Coff ee and close out if I wanted too. I had to Th e result: Buff alo greets the 21st century with community solidarity, a can-do attitude, “If you apply somewhere else in addition to our department. Look at Binghamton’s pro- create and the need to feel grounded, to to take it out of the $800 you owe me? Go for it, I’ll take the $770 New World Record a reasonable cost-of-living, and a strong sense of place. have a claim to just one place. My friend you’ll never come up with.” say yes! I MEAN SHE fouND on Elmwood Av- gram, Stoneybrook… but Buff alo. Yes. Look at Buff alo.” “Buff alo?” ME A GLASS AND SWEET calls it simplicity, while I call it having enue? Now, it’s not all rainbow-farting unicorns. Th e metro area is still in search of a new post- Don’t they have cables running between all the buildings on campus so you can pull a real mailbox: Her boyfriend, despite having just learned too much about the hush VERMouTH!!! ( I also had a lovely Do I tell people about manufacturing economy. Th eir medical corridor holds promise, as do the energy and arts puppies, was always pretty patient as her and I revisited, yet again, all the bartendress before Kim too!! I forgot yourself to class through the blizzards? I didn’t ask. I think I probably agreed meekly and how I moved to Califor- sectors, but none have emerged as the winning ticket just yet. left his offi ce. I had not expected anyone to tell me that day that I should walk away As I will say again over and over, it is so madness that was those overnight shifts. I’m sure we’ll bring up that one her name. I’m sorry I am normally nia with the intention of strange for my whole life to be in one Th ough it’s been brought up a few times, we’ve never been dude who would always come in asking if we wanted to see his “dick tat- really good with names. BuT You Th at said, the city has a lot going for it, not the least of which is its depth of com- from everything I knew and had built here so far for the city of Buff alo. It is a city, right? never coming back, only munity. And that’s precisely what had me checking real estate listings by the end of the place. It’s the fi rst time in 9 years that all my stuff clear on how it actually happened. Th e way I recall is that it too” which was a tattoo on his leg of a penis or his “dick piercing” which WERE LoVELY!) At Kristine’s to come back at the age After doing some research that mostly consisted of one wikipedia page, I could not sub- is at home and that I am not split between locations. So I think I am just basking all began when sp@ce 224 owner Jose Ro- driguez started lining assumably was an unsolicited off er to see his genitalia. or the various the second time. I had a lovely little week. Something deep in my unconscious suddenly realized it was tired of transience, of 21 because I realized I of living in a place with a shifting, nondescript point of view. And it got really, really stantiate my snow cable rumor but I did have some new bits of information about this in simplicity. Th ough even I have to admit being restless comes easily. chairs up in rows facing the largest of the two gallery windows. ways we would respond to the incredibly personal and invasive questions chat with a gentleman (24 years old wanted something real? suggested new home. President McKinley was shot there. Rick James was buried there. hole. that were always a staple of trying to cash someone out to just get rid I think- if you live in Buff alo maybe excited about the idea of supporting local artists. of joining a block club. of knowing Th e last letter made me ache for all its familiar language of feeling lost and Th e night was a warmish one towards the end of August or the Maybe I talk about my expe- my mailman’s name. Th at asshole that did the Cross-Bronx Expressway destroyed a neighborhood or some- Re- of them. or the times the boss would somehow make a half bottle of you know him- if you are curious ask Kris- riences of playing & watch- thing there. High crime rate, one of the highest poverty rates, good art scene… whatever. somehow completely at home in a foreign place. In the year I spent traveling beginning of September of 2011. Jose, Hunger Anthem Tullamore Dew disappear and try to impress young girls by loading their tine- maybe I should give you more info through South America before moving to Buff alo I discovered there’s a certain mem- frontman Brendan Vaganek, and myself were putting back a ing local shows in attics, In my opinion, Buff alo shows us how we can reinstate the social systems that hold us I’ll get through the application and he’ll write me that letter. ber hotdogs up with a bunch of shit they didn’t want, girls that were already on him) But he makes his living- designing crazy rave parties in Larkin together and meld them with the march of progress. When Buff alonians look at their ache associated with place and trying to fi nd it in a diff erent culture. Th ere are few in the darkened and vacant artspace. As shit-shooting prone to complaining and leaving only the exact amount on their hand- cases… 1:48pm I began this process of appeasement, no problem. But then, I got stuck. It was the state- moments, as my friend alluded to in a literal manner in her letter and which I use where went, it was pretty standard fare. And then Jose started Land factories or watching city, they don’t see the Rust Belt/snow-encased stereotype the rest of the country pokes you put scribbled bill. She would talk about the time she found a thong in the … for bands and making custom drums a basement show deep in the ment of purpose I had to submit withThe my thesis. It had to include why I wanted to go to metaphorically, wherein you feel yourself growing calluses from all the work you must do with the chairs. kitchen among the prep stuff and I would talk about the time I walked and making custom instruments. He has fun at. Th ey see neighbors working together. Th ey see progress and reinvention. And that West Side where everyone they see it all happening right now. Not in some distant, amorphous future, but in real uB so badly. And even though I triedSummer to keep was it theoreticalblissful and at sweet- fi rst, I actually began to think to build yourself place in a new culture, language and geography. My friend is living with dent in I looked at him quizzically and inquired what in the sweet in on the boss getting frisky with some girl my age in the back while I hoodies for all his workers. He spent a year hits the HVAC duct work to through why I would want to go toened school by Tacoin Buff Tuesdays alo. What and life a inmiraculous Buff alo numberwould actually of a tribe in Ethiopia, in a world many cannot even claim to be able to fathom, and for her was waiting on an order. on one set of drums. He said they turned time, as we speak. the dirt. Stab Betsy of Pike he was doing. He replied simply, “stadium the beat, creating a magical be like. So far, it seemed it was a 40splace and that cheap (in whiskeymy narrow shots... view of the world that only fi nding place happens even amidst deep confusion over why she’s there: two sticks into the mud, seating.” As standing beer swilling louts around the globe out great. Just left Ni- moment of underground music and hipsterness? Buff alo is a city well under way. We in other cities should keep an eye on it. Better yet, involved looking at maps of New York State) seemed to be close to nothing (I now know We’d undoubtedly revisit all the promises he made and how he never agara falls. It ain’t Buff alo. but it’s close though. An awesome end to we should participate in it, whether there or in our own communities.of March As native Meagan where Toronto, Rochester, Cleveland,My parking Pittsburgh lot is and the wild,Detroit untamed are, don’t bushland worry), of wouldsub- …But can you understand that there is a world where one’s belongings do not exceed one for your loss, and are wont to do when off ered a new seat- ing option, we sat, followed through. But we had both quit months ago, and it closed almost what a donkey can carry, there is nothing save for the metal of your machete you use that one for the dog’s. Ex- gazing out that large gallery window directly at Th e Pink. Buff alo adventure. or should I focus on Buff alo related activities-- helping to create Baco said to me once, “My one word for Buff alo is PoSSIBLE.Madness. Anyone urbia, can be wide,a Buf- naturally be cold and snowing yearpaved round plane (lake efftrenched ect, duh) between and intensely four intersections.lonely (I knew immediately afterwards. So, except for occasionally muttering about how another Buff alo Carshare hub, pushing for preservation or down- falonian, no matter where they are.” I had My parking no onelot thatis the lived wild there, asphalt even fl peripherally,atland where and cars the creep ‘city ofand good sleep, neighbors’ where mostmoniker people seemed dare you do not know how to make; when the grass is gone you migrate in a sea of people and amine the greater mean- Th e only lighting in the room originated from two or three showcase nice it would be to have that money he owed us, we had mostly come to Me and my friends (who are traveling with) love you Buff allo. Hopefully that makes town investment? Maybe, just maybe I write about my experience pur- not tread. Not many span the entire lot and the few that do don’t acknowledge each other; we all hang livestock to a mountain on the horizon- and I have said none of this well, none of this as ing of it all. Who is the you feel good. Love “Th e guy that no one knows” suspicious). But somehow that list of what seemed like reasons not to move somewhere lights above the window. Something gradually began to form in my terms with what had happened in that little late-night Allentown restau- with buying houses on the In Rem foreclosure Auction-- a day that Take it from an outsider looking it. Take it from someone whochased considers ourherself heads a Buf- to avoid becameeye contact intensely with potentialattractive. predators overwhelming and cross so. the lot in silence. Th ere’s a lifetime’s worth I mean it- what am I doing here? * * * I take these selfi sh one? Th e playful mind; a proto-idea, if you will. I got a sense of a possibility without rant. And typically, as we retell moments of these nights over and over, changed my life? So, when I am asked to map my Buff alove, falonian at heart. It’s time to discard the shallow view. It’s timeP to e be Buff t alo.of refuse trapped in this space, untouched by those who clean the places that people go. Nobody ever goes letters and stack them on my nightstand. I have no idea what I will do with the growing animal for playing in the we still laugh our way through each one--and it’s pretty hearty laughter. I have yet to pry open my eyes, but I can feel the excruciatingly bright winter sun- truly being aware of what was transpiring. I then suggested that we light blasting through my bedroom windows. It is that 15 minutes of hard sun that I have to think of the day, the event and/or the place where my life Sounds, back there, so nobodyAnd removessix months the later, debris I wasand living it just on travels West with ferry. the wind to be trapped like wild birds in pile, but I feel comfort in their companionship. Th ey remind me during my more frus- wrong place, or the So, if you ever catch us complaining, just keep in mind there’s no way I used to sit on the corner of Elmwood and Bidwell during the summer with my friends trated moments of living in Buff alo that sometimes it’s hard to have faith in the process careless owner for sitting point the lights at the chairs. Th ere was a general air of agreement and shows up late in the morning on some March days. It is not comforting though. It goals and my love for this city came together. So many memories! So and watch people go by. To put my head back against the walla Joanna and blur thethe colorschain andlink fenceI won’ton the bore lot’s younorthern with coast.all the unexpected things that happened between then and now the lights were adjusted. So there we were, three grown men sipping it was all that bad. Newsom of experience, but it’s worth it. I fi nd more and more that “place” is really just the series of so close to the street? amplifi es the cold as it refl ects off the dirty snow. As I try to roll over, I feel my arm peel many events! So many places and great experiences!! What one do I shapes of movement rushing past was comforting. I would drift in and out of Myconversations journey begins (except as I am for dumped the fun out fact onto that aI sidewalknever attended before graduatea sea of parked school), cars, but like as itthe turns smallest out, Buffant in alo beer and sitting in three of about twelve seats, which were arranged Her and I both have desk jobs now, her in the arts and me in the non-profi t sector. We off of the sheet as if it were glued down. Curiosity brings me to fi nally expose my bare eyes choose? I know, I will choose the day my worlds collided. T h e r e album, experiences we mediate, and something like reading a letter about someone else wrestling around me, listening for bits of music playing from open car windows and laughtera patch of from the mostwas cantankerous not the place zoysiagrass. to go to Ibe almost cold, alwaysdesolate enter and the alone. lot byAll passing the little under bits aof pair information of kissing I with experience reminds me not to worry so much about where I am at the moment, as Truthfully, it’s hard to say. as they would be in a small theater, the only points of illumination in an get regular paychecks and sexual harassment is now something that there are rules against. to whatever harsh reality has come to pair itself with that goddamn sunlight. Dried blood was a day where my two worlds fi nally crossed paths… actually it was more like they the park close by. I would leave every night waiting to go backand the nexta day. had gleaned before I arrived were not necessarily untrue, but created an image of this city otherwise darkened gallery, framed by a large win- dow on Allen Street Sun Kil side-view mirrors from the fi rst two parked cars I see and continue to weave through the maze of sleeping one place so quickly becomes another. I am convinced that the best spot to She says everyone in her offi ce complains that there is a rat problem, but we both know covers my left arm, as well as the corner of the bed sheet. Th e pocket knife I got as a gift smashed into each other, fi reworks went off and my heart exploded-- all over a cup of machinery. Eventually,that wasI’m ledincredibly by a small underwhelming path lined with compared small domesticated to the reality. trees Th around e wikipedia the structure page mydidn’t directly across from Th e old Pink at approximately 11 post meridiem. until you watch a rat play in cornmeal breading like it’s a sandbox, you don’t really know for being the best man in my friend’s wedding is lying open on the fl oor. Th e cut across coff ee at Sweetness_7 on Grant Street in Buff alo’s West Side. You see, this Elmwood and Bidwell Alex spilled his small coff ee MoonHe hoped al- no one saw mention some of what I have come to fi nd most energizing about this city—it didn’t Mags and I were just hanging out listening to Doug’s album of Warren Zevon- something kiss, in Buff alo, is behind any drape of bum that parking lot was built to serve and the thick forest of the populated lot unexpectedly opens up. Suddenly I’m the myriad willow trees along Hoyt Lake, And then the Promethean moment came. A couple walked by. Like the fi rst shot fi red in what you’re talking about. my wrist is really not much more than a scratch. Not even a cry for help. It resembles the was the day I met Jason Wilson-- activist, preservationist and Buff alo lover. And while 1. Th ere was a traumatic meteorological event duringwalking the football across rollingmention blacktop our plains,growing forgotten refugee spacepopulation tucked and away their by smallthe back businesses walls of startingvarious onbuildings. the West about that guy made everyone want to get out and go drinking. It was a little early though inner thigh of a sad teenage girl more than anything. Hardly any kind of legitimate suicide you may laugh at this, it was an incredible meeting that has changed my life forever. It I already in Delaware Park. I started visiting the the American Revolutionary War, we’ll never know who was responsible, but one of us 1:42 am season of 2006 that is known to locals as “Th e october Storm.” I’m one of those locals but Side; it didn’t talk about the working urban farms that provide fresh food and jobs to the for that, maybe all of eight- dark already for two hours- but from the bezeled windows we park while I was a graduate student clapped, long and loud. At that instant, the proto-idea stopped being a possibility, crystal- 1. Spring: fourattempt. minutes Th there, is is the seven second minutes time back. this Winter:winter I fihave ve minuteswoken there,up bloody six minutes(the fi rstback. involved Two blocks,was four an eventhundred that made my two worlds collide... the event where I realized I could do not in every way. A heavy snowfall fell before the leaves had a chancehad to,(I and becauseoverturned of the shopping city’s carts kids litterand theirthe most families; desolate it didn’t parts describe of the lot, the abandoned organizations like that shipwrecks. are working I imagine for safe could see there was a beautiful moonlight refl ecting off the fl uff y snowfl akes. Buff alo. on a nearly drunken. In a mostly clear moment. foryards, Kristine. two intersections, one all-wayme stop, crawling one traffi through c light. my bedroom Th e disparate window catcalls, after smashingthe walks theof glassshame with and a glory,fl ower the pot).late-night Buffdrunken alove stumbles, stuff withhad someone an addic-who loved it as much as I did. So we met at heightened potentiality for surface tension, thousands of treestion came and down tothat the if ground. the seas of theand Bermuda aff ordable Triangle housing were for drained, the residents this is alreadywhat it living might here;look it like. didn’t In thedetail winter, the innovations the carts almost eight years ago. I often picnic or lizing into something tangible, like letting Schrodinger’s cat out of the bag. Th e couple, Mags had a brainstorm- we could ski up to Jimmy Mac’s! Hell Yeah! I had my skis upstairs read with friends under the slope of without breaking step, looked at us with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. We all knew the still-drunk morning stumbles. Th e three-minute preoccupied theres, the exultant and observant six-minute theres. Th e seven-minuteSweetness onaccom- a chillyNew fall day. World We talked was about art, buff alo, preservation and opportunities Th ose left were only left in part. closing remain stationary, andoften experiments becoming lodgedin inner-city in nearby education snow andreefs, it creating didn’t explore a plastic the island spaces among and projects the black that Buff alo. Seems to me to be a sparkly kinda classy kindapanied wild placeand engagedwhere all backs, the kidsthe four-minuteI sit up and solitary try toand assess introspective the situation. backs. I Thpick e upreluctant the carton theres, of the warm forced Wegmans theres, keysorange left on theto workdresser, together. coff ee Hesoon was soso cute I had with to hisbuy little up corduroy pants and big smile. I knew I had as much rock sea or it’s rendition of the exploding kayak art statue. Th ey come alive in the summertime though, in Atle and Doug’s apartment. We were out in the fl akes in ten minutes fl at. Doug lamely David or walk along the ring looking for fi sh and turtles sunning on the rocks… but I what was going to occupy the rest of our evening. The juice off the fl oor. I guzzle what is left, as if some vitamin C, D and calcium would make exist for the art and the music and the writing that the residents of Buff alo and their friends come creepy crawling out at night and suck the streets (andcold bars) in two dry. mugs Where on the the art fl oor.is Th e somber backs, but eager backs, feet drawn four hundred yards, feet relieved on three stairs toto getthe this door. guy Two out toas moreI could). meetings, of course, more it eventswas and more Buff alo preservation stuff . Having spent my life working with landscapes, my fi rst dutyBozo’s was to snowplow. and they Waking skate theare lot responsible like a roller for. rink, After remaining two years within of living the hereassigned I’m sureperimeter, I don’t but have in the a new whole pose picture, and didn’t have cross country skis so he promised to meet us around ten. I fi gured I’d be on mostly watch for people kissing. for about the fi rst half hour or so, everybody who walked by gave us the same mixture every(where). from your classic (the architecture)better to the ornamentsyears, two and blocks. shining All things the theres and andeverything the backs. better. 2. I can’t tell if I am shakingIt’s a duewind to tunnel the cold, there the and anxiety, back, orbut the the booze. wind doesn’tHis always dedication, whine passionidea and to getlove beer, for Buffand ofalo coursewas (is) incredible. following the meeting, at 3AM (in my bedroom at the “old Wondermoth” co-op afterat Elmwood andposition North) each I time you pass through. Cars pass you in both directions as if on safari. I’m the asphalt lion my second Irish Coffthey ee by slowthen. choice, just like those part of that Saturday was spent paint- ing vines Mostly likely a lovely cocktail of all of the above. All the questions that I don’t have answers but I do have a much better idea. And what I like most is that this city is so many incred- old maze games in the early days of the internet. Do we goWhen left on I moved Katherine? to Buff or alo, do my family and close friends were all convinced I would fi nally of curiosity and suspicion as that fi rst couple. Sometimes it was a group of four or fi ve paints on every bar- crazy crazy colors. Cool cool posters. Whereand whisk. is Buff Th alo?ere Inare between.church bells, the rhythm of running shoes, light traffi c at 20 mph, and often cold, bemused birds. Th ere’she received the murmura text of saying,Teddy “you’re and Ia realhad gem.”bought our Withinbeers, a few months, he was mine stepped out into an unfamiliar city. Th e empty open spaces Bozodesigned got for downmovement to pass and but neverible things stop for. in the face of being known mostly for its wings and snow and sports teams. and fl owers and whatever we thought wouldIn between Chicago, and New york. Nowbe I feel Innice between the world I know and this to run through my head. Where was I last night? Mohawk Place? Essex? Th e Pink? Some for keeping and as I write this, we share a little apartment on Buff alo’s West Side. Today, recreation were now fi lled with fallen trees. Th e canopy one never notices, an urban ceiling up Claremont we went- or maybe it’swe down(?)-go right? we Maybe went straight, south to through Bird, left the to intersection Lincoln andfi tond thesomeone curve? “just Looking like outme.” hisTh window, e reality is,Clay most chose days, the it right. feels likeTh rilling my wholeadventure relationship lay and sometimes it was a loner, but the reactions were pretty consistent. And then, as the people in the park – dads and dude bros playing frisbee, couples arguing on blankets, and barking dogs, there are always dogs. Th ere’s the bustling something ridiculously girly and non- alcoholic. Parkway. Th e gorgeous quiet of the night off ered an amazing universal sense of sweet per- history should be listed under Craigslist/Buff alo/Missed Connections. I’ve had exactly two night wore on, the response began to shift. Peopleto look would at. Irecognize can’t even that tell same you crystallizedhow many peoplefantastical colorful abstract awkward (butstopped in a good with way) otherof the world. farmer’s Th market,ere are prosand andTuesday combination jazz nights in of thethe summer.three? How Children did I get laughing home? Howin the have yard I ofnever St. John’sgotten Grace. mugged Th making e whiz of bicyclewe have wheels, started the our own development company called Buff aLove Development; we were that isn’t recognized in the everydayness of automobiles, storefront signage, andIt takes a vibration ten minutes About to cross a year my makingparking thelot bymove, foot, with with a diff life erentthat lookedobstacles entirely for each diff season. erent andIn the a completelysummer, I track the ahead as I exhilaratingly signaled and made a slow and careful turn. their kids or dogs or alone on their jog and asked whatcons. we It’s small. But like other ‘small’were cities doing(I spent and some time in Baltimore recently) you that 4am drunken walk all the way down Richmond Ave? Why are my pants neatly folded featured in Buff alo ThSpree e threefor being of us gamewere inchangers bad shape, and evenemotion- highlighted by the National or rhythm that fades away into a non-space of the blasé, a timeally held by the hoursalternation to remain of awarenew wayof where of seeing my shadowsthis city andwill whatbe, where was beyond I’ll be able it, I tothought seek protection back on that from day the in harshhis of- fection. Coming upfuture to Soldier’s sun. Circle Mags is telling me about a boyfriend at Alfred who long-term relationships in Buff alo which each lasted exactly six months. quantum cat and immediately after walking out of view, they’d return and take a bow. And crunch of snowy footsteps, fl ip-fl ops against warm concrete. Th e occasional honk, shout, or welcomed good morning. And to myself, whatever speaking. Bozo had broken up with his lying cheating traveled across campus skiing throughHeading trees to south see her. toward “Th the rough dead trees? end onHow Katherine, high were the road got a little choppy, and the rails didn’t help. Th at was fi ne, my car had once handled a through some sort of hive-mind phenomenon,if they could it became help. Manythe norm. off eredPeople to wouldgive us catch money canwhen sense/feel they the community. Thfound e feel outthat we everybody were knowsstream everybody. is in my head, Th ebut feel at thatnight likeon thea prayer, dresser? please Th don’tat looks mug like me, hot please sauce don’t on mugmy Brown me, please Sugar don’t shirt. mug Did me. I get a chicken Trust for Historic Preservation for our “heart bomb” initiative. We dance, we work crazy red and green lights, was gone. Eighteen inches of snow dampened the neighborhoodone summer into I traversedfi ce. It the was opposite never his coast thick in frenchsearch ofaccent better that protection. made him I foundincomprehensible. its unfamiliarity I guess unpleas- I didn’t ant and the I did visit the park with the fi rst gentleman several times to walk and relax on the grass recent grads doing the project on a dime and out of pure love. You could attribute it to fi nger sub from Jim’s? How many awful text messages did I send? How much money was girlfriend some time ago, Teddy desperately wanted new road generally ineffi cient, so I photographed it as if it were a country I may not ever see again. I swear you?” I laugh. “No,the she sun says, was ‘Like this,”seasonal and dirtshe demonstratedroad through ahow farm you in centralski on yourNew leftYork , it could handle this. We passed the National Tractor Trailer School, where a lone student on quicker and quicker, bowing as soon as the applause began. people who built things (stores and such) here still work those same things. We did a show hard and we Buff alove all day long. our relationship is something really an eerie silence. Th e deep crunch of each footstep became an alarm drawing the hidden understand the sandbox because I wasn’t out of it yet. sat in the cab of a rig in the parking lot (I hope he got an A).along on the the water’sopposite edge; side however,of the road, he we never passed suggested a fenced-in we sitlot under—orfull of tanks even of some near—the sort. being in the “city of neighbors” but I like to believe they all heldat Medaille a deep- today. I am an actor on seateda tour- aff bringing ection playsfor about3. issues to the college youth.A dead pottednot left plant in mysits onwallet? the porch Who anddid itI offis hardly end? seenWhat anymore. stupid stuff It’s an did ugly I say?thing, Is athis spindly really skeleton what inspecial shades and of Igray have it allto tobreak thank up to with Sweetness_7, his, and I thehad setting not been where in amy rela- two worlds collided. eyes sleeping in the windows onto me. Th e darkness and silence,tionship lack of movement,brighter there, and and the lines in the road were more blinding. Th ey were a tall grass to which my eye was un- leg to the tree, do aaccustomed. ballet move backwards to the other side and ski through on your right willow trees. I will never know if it was a conscientious avoidance; he didn’t notice my gaze Around midnight things advancedthat place further. as well. No In longer the end, resigned we left to it accepting with our ourbest approvalattempt at artwork and a simple message: and beige. It gently overfl ows its potI am down doing a fl at ight 28 yearsof three old? steps My like stomach the aged feels hair as thoughof a neglected it has endured Rapunzel. a Itsdecent unglazed amount clay pot is often mistaken for nearly three years. Th ings were looking up though, When I fi rst moved to West ferry Street in Buff alo, I spent a moment attending to my leg. Hilarious! Th e little tree she did Wethis hadtoo nowas idea impressed what was too in and them, giggled. but it It recalled dropped memories a of a video we once saw on tv of dozens of gas tanks exploding, so we loved it. It might My roommate interrupts my thoughts with talk of Jack Black in Tropic Th under. But the absence of power coursing through the city suddenly made it an uncomfortableIn the privatewinter, the land is so clean and white, but that which bleaches my parking lot infl ates the muscles that let us be worth noting that it doesn’t take much to entertain us.pulling often toward the drooping canopies. He also didn’t seem to be a fan of PDA—or with grace, the passers-by“Live began Buff to alo” perform. or “Love It startedBuff alo.” with It’s some entirely posing dependent and progressed on how you see it. for an oversized ashtray. It is as familiarof dirty to Rollingyou as theRock, face so of I amust friend have whose spent features at least you a few no minuteslonger see at thein lieu Pub. of Irecognizing can only the“oh, whole. you’re It stays interviewing at least for for Buff me. alo Th unscripted?”e night before, said theme, Bozo,owner Teddy,of five Points Bakery to place I was intruding on. and mailbox. It was a bit of an event for me, this little black box with delightful curled ends four inch high pile from its upper branches right behind Mags. on a moonlight night the maybe it was that he wasn’t much of a fan of me. over the next couple hours to singing, dancing, miming, the occasional display of bosoms, my mind returns to Jeanine the counselor at Medaille andseated, what sheevery said day, about on your Buff every alo. thereimagine and back, the embarrassing but you don’t things seem toI probably see it anymore. slurred to some poor young4. Buff State girl. I “Sothe she customer goes, ahead ‘It ofour me good in line. friend “Th Steve en you Irwin get ahad free been loaf outof bread!” at Mr. “Really?” she Goodbar cross what has turnedin the into front a suburban hall. It appealed tundra. onceto me thefor wintera number dimension of reasons. has first,fallen, I ama new irrevocably route must in lovebe illusion is a perfect establishedsnow koan to whoever is walking their dog. [Transcribed from my red work journal] Dearest Quinoa, In the midst of a menial task, around glaciers built by plows and patches of ice polished by the gentle morning sun. Th ose who must and those who dare are then forced to As we approached the Irish Propane Corporation, appropriately nestled in the lush greenery of this tiny peninsula jutting into the Buff alo River, and fi nally, mooning. Th e number of concurrent performers also increased over time. for She said a beautiful phrase- which I at 1:42am cannot remember-should bebut back she theredescribed for me. how My daughterprobably called found and some put mouseyit on hold girl three with weeks glasses ago. and It’ll told either her shebe underhad “specs Cheryl, appeal.” Natalie, I bet Jackie, I orsaid. Paul. It had an and we started playing pool with this gorgeous With all the passages blocked, I drove fi ve miles to fi nd mylesbian destination only four blocks with the art of sending letters. In moments of poorer judgment I envision myself making the road started to become oddly overrun with nature. WeYears didn’t later, really with know a second the lay gentleman, of the land, I butshould quickly, have thesensed buildings early onthinned that the out relationship and trees the majoritycaught in of some the night middle it would realm bewhere one allat athe time, better but partsby the of end my therepast converge,would be threeI realized or I wantedBuff alo you as basically: a placeto know of good about neighbors. the city. Now allow me to romanticize… *I would asked someone if they wanted to go home with me to eat macaroni and cheese and cuddle. and her male friend who probably did some mod- away. Th e labyrinth of passageways, so familiar they may as welleling have for been atrudge long one-way through thea wildcareer plains of opening of snow, a carving “Little outLetter clear Store” paths whereof struggle I would from do Elmwood nothing tobut Delaware. write letters We continued down Bidwell past the new Griffi s sculpture- more people celebrating the was doomed when it took too much coaxing just to arrange a walk in the park. finally, In its gilded age, the city was home to nearly 60 millionaires. Th is was the time of the Pan-American Exposition; the time when orange-ish, red-ish, maybe brown-ish red-ish cover, I think?’ and then tells me to hold on for fi ve minutes while she calls her daughter.”“Really!” he answered. “We posted it on our facebook wall. Everyone who participates snow- arms raised high and dancing...took We over—or, were thinking at the veryabout least, taking the thebuildings sidewalks became on hidden by the onset of plants. Th e old, worn silo of another type of plant, I suppose, passed four inebriated performers vying for our attention. In all fairness, as our beer supply slowly have fi nished this sentence but I was interrupted again- lost“okay, train that’sof thought- nothing. too I hadmuch a guy Iask wonder me if what we had kind a ofMitch shit IAlbom talked sectionabout everyone’s today. Like, bands, why but yes that sir, Ilet don’t me actuallyshow you mean. right where we keep this old Navy. Having no sexual prospects with this street, suddenly were scrambled into a new city. With every rhythmlesbian, suppressed, corridors for people who just couldn’t fi nd the time- a sort of personal shopper for sentiment and us by as we bounced over another track crossing. Th e Cargillhe agreed silos to poked walk aroundup in the the near ring distance. “just once” up withahead, me. there As I waspulled another, his hand a fi offnal crossingthe path, McKinley was shot and Teddy Roosevelt assumed the role of President of the unitedenergy States to of try and fi nd America.way back*... Teddy, a man known gets a free loaf of fresh cinnamon raisin bread. Because we love this project and want collapsed, and aff ectation fl attened, the fl avored sensation experiencedJust mixed as suddenly cold and as I came upon the eye of the lot, I lose it and again I must navigate around live and dead metal toDelaware, wash up on or theRichmond sidewalk uptown shore. to Jimmy Mac’s but we had crossed Elmwood at Bird dwindled, our applause moved from polite clapping to shouting and cheering with a stand- critically acclaimed author, he’s gotHell, the whole I might shelf have to evenhimself.” cried a little at some “oh point. man. Really, Well, Iat hope least Iyou just didn’t sat in havea dark a kidcorner ask you ifeveryone we carried to come.”for I had no qualms telling her how pretty she was. She acted I once concluded asalutations. tale of an experience In slow seasons I had Iroad-tripping would write outin New quotes England from forgottenwith “every books time and I go send somewhere them beautiful and I look over the edge, before the road ended. But there was something on it. toward one of trees, he let go just as we got under the canopy. I hinted how quiet and ing ovationfor championing thrown in the every construction now and againof the for Erie good Canal measure. and threatening As the mooning the sovereignty became of the Philip- pines. Th e same period claims alone and was grumpy most of the night. As I ponder, I scratch my scalp and the dust of very fl attered and as the two of them were leaving, emergency that bit at both sides of the skin, fearing one may beshe lost. wrote Th is could have been off anonymously to unsuspecting mailboxes around the world. It would be written up and it looked quiet and then we saw how great and snowy Elmwood still was, so we romantic I thought the trees were. He kept his pace, walking directly across the diameter, the early years of frank Lloyd Wright’s career. Th ree of his projects, as well as countless collaborations with other giants of architecture, pepper whom the Bell Told today.” “ouch.” “Yeah. Th is you?” “Yeah. See ya tomorrow. Bike safe.” it’s a parking lot,” and the room burst out in laughter while I silently mourned the loss of those bits of the originalskied universe. right Nowup the the center parking most lots of the ten blocks to the bar. Th ere was nothing but thick, more and more frequent, it became apparent that it was time to close up shop. Th at was the 5. You start cheapat the bigpomade red door. clouds You’re the air.greeted by the park – yellow in the summer, green in the fall, gray inTrue the winter, story. Itand happened down when her Inumber was fi lming and handed in Buff it alo to inme, 2011 saying, for the aforementioned Sandusky, Cleveland, or Sheboygan. “ Y o u have won, and theyin want the New not myYork sympathy, Times: Th but e myLittle soul. Letter I am Shop here, Inspires a creature Peace of andthe wildernessProductivity that by hasPost. beckoned me from just over the edge. I slowed the car down to a crawl, or perhaps I stopped. I don’teven really though recall. I tried Despite to stall staring a little. at Iit, tugged it took one me stranda few seconds of leaves, to longingly,comprehend as I that,also exitedyes, fi rstthe occurrence landscape of of what the region.was to Tobecome the north known of asElmwood, Th e Audience a neighborhood Game. of trattorias, bars andTHIS locally IS unEDITED. owned businesses, 1:59am lies Delaware We had stopped Park. It backwas in our hotel. at 1:42am. my room- Buff alo unscripted, shouldan online call documentaryme.” It suddenly project occurred from the to meNational that Trust for Historic maybe compacted tracks on the avenue, andI wasalmost defi zero nitely brown seeing sugar. something, Nothing and to then,do but yes, glide I understood that calm its shape. space, It too was soon. a deer. Th Bute experience it was entirely was disappointingwhite. and confusing… exactly like designed by olmsted, the man behind inexplicable wonder of Central Park. Pathways weave through the grass patches, fl ower beds and playing brown in the spring. Th e trees standIn defeat, in four I rows,crash myplanted head diagonally back down like onto theater the seats.old fl That pillow.ere, past I stretch parked carsmy legs with in orangethis tickets tucked into 2. Th is state of emergency still lingers today, only as some adulter- Second, having a mailbox, one that has my name written across it in thick print, one that and move a bit for the few cars. Near the universalist Church at ferry we did have to get mate was to smoke some weed. Me too. Now we return towindshields, the streets ofthe Buff park alo. is to To the go left. Past the cunty dogs in their fenced-in yard on the corner of Ashland. Past the stop for the 26. AtPreservation. the corner, you she had been joking about her sexual orientation. I told Steve Irwin whatated had residuehappened that and can’t he seemsaid sheto bewas washed defi nitely away. joking, Th e andmorning I trust after,Steve the stormfor me, cleanup Buff alo is the middle of nowhere, a lonely outpost on the very outskirts of civilization. It’s an oasis. floating between the nothingness the rest of that relationship. Th roughfi elds theleading end toof rocks,the year, tree weclumps would and play meanderingTh e Audience bodies Game of water. every Nestledfew weeks, between some- the parkdancing. and Elmwood:) Village3:46am is the Albright-Knox. (“whose that guy…?” It is the “He’s the guy that no one knows!”) king size bed occupied by one single jester. Almost immediately the loneliness sets in and more than just about anybody. Th is was of course fresh on my mind as we sat down at a table in Gordon’s, listening to the frat boys at the bar of I-90 between ExitI can 49 reach and Syracusemy hand (a into drive every that day, takes means a man I really straight live to here. insanity Th is if is he exciting lets it) forand someone the wine countryto the side,to the but southwest, that sidewalk it has up a pastI thestared Crane quizzically Library forwas a good- moment. then Th we ehit fi rstthe thoughtstreet that entered my head once I established it was a real sight was, “Who would put that on times with only four or fi ve in attendance, sometimes with a crowd of fi fteen to twenty. press the button, wait for the light, Iand curl cross up and to the embrace big glass the door. comforter You’re as there tightly and as then I can. you I wish leave. that Back, she past was antshere, fi but ghting I am over candy in sidewalk began, but landscapes ended. for a short time, landscapes became a wasted investment. who has had enough addresses in her lifetime to map the scattered abodes of a small village. again for the next two blocks. the railroad tracks?” Th e only reality my brain could fall back on—since this was a bright white deer—was that it was a statue or gigantic lawn sixth oldest art gallery in the country. It is known for having one of everything--truly a diverseJust returnedcollection from of classical kristine’s and cafe contemporary for the second masters. time. (the fi rstcracks, time thebeing park when is to she the gave right. me Past the McGarrett’s smoking patio. Past the dude bros on the second-fl oor balcony on the corner fiveof Delavan.Points Bakery You wascomparing just one theirof our brackets. meet-up locations, and this was just one affi rming sense of freedom to it, one that says anything goes in this dying industrial town. It’s self-contained, and the people that come see it only as a sign I am still always excited and gleeful when I see patches of a blanket or human heaps under Th e“Have most interestingyou seen the part cardinal?” about the Sarah whole asked thing me. is that We each were game on ourprogressed fi rst real in thedate, exact even thoughthis assignment- I’d already orslept off overered onceme this and assignment kissed her oron giftedthe me this assignment) It was a very glad that she is not. I would want her to scratch my back, comfort me, and tell me how moment of many throughout the project, but it captures why I fell truly/madly/deeply Why spend one’s money on something that will only be destroyed. on the way to the Ifalls. feel asWhat though I’m I’m trying either to constantlysay, rather fiinelegantly, ling a change is that of noaddress one form,wants orto callinggo to Bufffriends alo. or Th is may seem like a complaint, but ornament of some sort (I can’t explain the way my brain thinks).the willow Th trees.en it Imoved. know couples are sharing secrets and making promises! Did olmsted same fashion, completely independent of who was involved. As the blood alcohol content end at the big red door, back. everything wasn’t that bad. She would try to repair my broken self esteem, and tell me that family to make sure a letter I was expecting didn’t end up at their house, which may or may Th ey stared at us when we entered. Th ere were maybe only fi fteen people at the bar at neck at the end of a bar on a Wednesday. I hadn’t seen it. Th e painting, as she describedshort stop it, in is before a comical I returned interaction home. betweenI came in a soakingcardinal from head to toe. I had been danc- in Buff alove. Not becauseWhen theI’m gamesa carb started,addict, webut startedbecause debating I’m a community whether or addict. not John And McCain Th ewas, community, in fact, the of Devil.course, Teddy gelled wasand quitecame convincedtogether in the a neighborlyold bastard way – really,as so it’shappens not...at least, not entirely. this time of night. By the time we putClay our noticed skis in itthe after corner I did, a althoughfew people I’m at not the too bar sure had how longintend after. to createTime sloweda park withas I tried capsules to piece perfectly together suited what for was intimacy? going on. folklore It’s an ofalbino willow deer? trees of thecooking audience dinner and performersand a man increasedabout to eat.and Apparently,the hour got the later, expression there would on the be achef’s standard face indicatesing at some KBGB trepidation (BGKB or toward GBBK feeding or GGBB) the spoonful a bar down of the Throad. ursday I had Nightsbeen informedI go to open by micI atam Mergea good person. Th e Inlast reality, Saturday I probably of the deservemonth I tobreak feel likedance shit. at VerveShe never deserved to ThBuff e third alo isSunday my new drug.was an alright guy, but he wasn’t fooling me or Bozo. Pretty soon, in walked Baloo the Bear, who just so happened to be in the neighborhood. not have been at some point my house. Mostly, the aff ection I feel for my new mailbox is often describe sitting beneath its boughs as a sacred space of contemplation or wisdom. progression of those outside the gallery walls from confusion to more and more elaborate with any storm severe enough to give neighbors the day off from work. ISoon was followedsurprised during the summer of my second year in the area when a college friend of mine drove in for a visit.already I mean, raised he a glasstold meto us. he Thwas e bartenderAlbino thoughtdeer are ita thing?was hilarious- Yes, they I toldmust him be ahe thing, could of course they’re a thing. Th e buck noticed us. It started to move slowly toward the woods, god knows what to his unsuspecting guest. the bartenders at Mulligan’s (YEA THEY RECoMMENDof CoSTuMERS every month there To isTHEIR swing dancinghave at to the put Hamlin up with House it. It is good that sheAnd left. everyShe is Monday much better something than this. special Th happense past few at Blue Monk He took off his headphones and we exchanged hellos. I asked what he wascommunity listening tosymposiums and he told on me the it statewas a ofpodcast the trees, called which Radiolab. I performed He told at, without a fee, less about the box and more about my wonder at having a permanent physical place of my and we responded by inching forward in my car. He didn’tStories seem ensurebothered that by tears us; it shed picked beneath at the the ground trees’ as canopy it moved. will Someonebe wiped poeticaway andcould concerns have performing to eventual mooning. Th e same way every time. months have been one self sabotage after another, trying to push her away from sinking My colleagues and I methought about we the were story crazy they when were we telling, ended perhaps fi lming about and experienceda scientist studying sud- a snake or something...I mean, every episode of Radiolab has scientists coming—he didn’town just after show 5 up—butyears of moving more surprisingly and traveling he aroundwanted diff to comeerent andnooks see of the the city. world. My Thlittle, at little laughed-at try my city. skis No but one I doubtedever did. he’d Th is,fi t into my size seven and a half boots so that wasn’t gonna will be lifted off your shoulders. once you are under the canopy you feel a sense of undi- I still haven’t seen it. I’m always there for short periods, and until obtaining membership status,CoMPETIToRS!!!???) had been relegated thatto the KGBG lower waslevels. the bar to end up at.Sometimes When I fi my rst friendsgot, after go Iwith had me Sometimes I go alone Never leave that way though I’mden, in acute love separation with anxiety from a city where we’d spent only 11 days. What about this happy to oblige. In a way, it was my 15 minutes of fame being the only resident certifi ed happen. I told him he could rent atdrawn Campus a good Wheelworks metaphor and from that seeing raised it—probably an eyebrow. something about this ghostly white animal haunting the area where there used to be so much paid my 5 dollar cover, I walked into a bar that looked likethis any city other bar. No spaceMonday to nightwith thisI went dead to Blueweight. Monk As Iwith was theabout usual to crew:drown Stacy, in a LoPro,river of Cutler, Genny, Jenn, I wanted and Taylor. to watch DJ Cutler and LoPro on and snakes, don’t they? arborist in the city of Buff alo. Work was happening everywhere. Assessmentsthough, and invento- this really hunkmeant of something. metal is my He strange wanted claim to come to place. hang out for a few days and check out the area. oh, the joy I felt. vided attention; there is a muting of the world outside, so your thoughts and expressions Th eTh Audience e sculpture Game in themade courtyard a few appearances was always in my2012 mecca and anyway.never really I tried come to togetherdescribe itagain and could only think of “bovine swirls.” You’ll see one day. her fl oat on to a better world. old Rust Belt town was calling us home? Ah yes- always trying to encourage theindustry—but natives to earn I don’t their know alcohol if I’m and the enjoy one tothe do great so without many more hours of thought. So I’ll just throw in the phrase “think about it: genetic the way it did in those fi rst few months. And now that sp@ce 224 is up for sale, it may dance, cramped and small. uTTER DISSAPoINTMENT.the But ones right and when twos, Ithis had is givenElmwood not Chippewa so there was only funk to be heard. Jenn gyrated, Taylor twisted, Stacy styled, and I was bugged Baloo and Teddy got talking more about politics while Bozo and I started discussingries needed an to upcoming be made. Thconcert. e urban We forest, were alwaysit was said,playing was shows in great back peril, in it wasSo arborgedon. we made our plans,Today and was in a August, small victory he fi fornally the was Postal able Serviceto make and it outa veritable to Buff joy-bombalo. We did for all me: the threetop touristylet- snow.things Hethat saidthe he’dcity tryhas itto someday off er, by nowmutation?” that he could and goa coy rent shrug right that there continues and take “no them really, to thinkof aboutlove exist it.” safely within the dome of gently leaves. It is as if each feathery leaf has sworn stay Sometimesthat way. But when if you’ve I’m writing ever been this, applauded I’m at the as hospital. you walked In other down moments, Allen by aI bunchsit in the of airportup terminal,hope another coming room- or going,a crazy and octagonal watch thedark baggage cave of soundout. and We lights- were allappeared deeply outin tune of withI need the night. to think about And thensomething I saw him,else, soslumped I focus onover recovery. at the bar, I had and been completely here before. out Th of ereplace. HeI wouldn’t was a bigger have put mythose fi ngerdays, on at itSoundlab, if I hadn’t Mohawk, just fi nished Merlin’s, reading and Ththis e nextSocial show Animal: was at Th e Nietzsche’s.olmstead Baloo profi said ted he the wanted most, to as go without check outthe thestorm, sale atmany New mayWorld, not soremember which his I meanname. Niagara ters greetedfalls. Back me withinthis morning the city as limits, I ran outI took the him door. to I thewill City say thatHall I observationget a fair amount deck (possiblyof mail myDelaware favorite place Park. ever), As expected the Anchor we were two whiskeys (forgot to ask for the coff ee part) into allegiance to cherish all they’ve heard and witnessed under their wing. drunkardshandlers behind play basketballa window, on you the were tarmac. a very I’m important fi nding thatpart ofdespite what mademy nomadic that gallery tendencies, a nowhere.there are elementsWith a full of stagemy identity and a DJand spinning community and bodiesthat onguy; the wore dance a blackfl oor. hoodie, All kinds black of pants,had andbeen a manyweary nights face. Now, lived usuallytrying toI saymake hi tosure everyone, there was but no I morningpassed on after. him. However, I didn’t pass it out Hiddenof fear. ISources passed of Love,we left Character, Gordon’s and and Achievement Bozo and I got by aDavid good Brooks.head start on Baloo and Teddy.To I toldheal, Bozo trees about were plantedthis idea in I hadall the for parksthe show, and whereaffl uent in between neighborhoods. songs ConditionsBar (always werebetter thatthan are I expect), not bills- Ted’s probably (of course), far more the thanPearl average, Street Brewery but three (there’s all at oncea theme was here, a mini-marvel. I can sense it). itWe when stumbled Doug acrossand crew some arrived. gems My car struggled briefl y trying to get over the bump of the rails, but we made it. Clay and I were totally silent as we pulled parallel to the albino out of respect. Th is man had possibly hit an all-time low, so it seemed. He had no idea that this was not the bar for a beer and silent refl ection, at buck, drinking it in. Th e animal now made its way furtherSo, intoI do walkthe brush in the nextpark, to and the scanroad. the Everything trees—without about intruding—hopingit but its black eyes there’sand nose a couple was legendaryhave started place in to the solidify. minds of Th a smallough it’scrowd. not a selling point, I think you should know about Dynguscrazy paintings Day. Th ande Polish posters, population pictures inand the shapes city celebrates covering the dark walls. out of nowhere never worked out that way. So now I knew what to expect. Th e anxiety, depression, and re- Drawing on the wideI would fi eld throwof brain candy science, and cigarettesBrooks explores into the howcrowd. our We unconscious had a good im- laugh aboutso bad it, fEMA then decided was brought it was somethingin. To make I absolutely us Buff alo had again, to do. “Malcolm We were Pierney,”too, likespecialists the Tiff t MoreNature impressive Preserve andyet wasBroderick that not Park. one It ofwas the a grandletters time. came in a standard form; one friend beneath, embracing or locked in a kiss. It thrills my heart to know someone is enjoying their cultural identity every year by dancing to techno polka, drinking beer and eating sausage.appeared To distinguish this totally themselves other world. from Th otherat’s what cream buff Euro- alo has beenleast like till fornow. me today. Every Th time e musicgret played. were all standard Th e staples bar fi lledof my up. “sadovers.” Thonly e bloodbrave danced.was a newer addition, Jenn gyrated. but I guess Taylor twisted, Stacy styled, in disaster relief, similar to Haliburton, were brought in to manage. Calls went out to had folded and taped her envelope till I wasn’t quite sure which end to open from, while Th e route back was a crystal path downperfectly Richmond, white, even former its small back antlers pastures were of pale. the Somehow,man- we were able to snap some pictures of it as it grazed while still keeping an eye on us. We I was leaning desperately on the empty door frame of our kitchen, laughing so hard that pacts all aspects of ourlaughing life, from and academicstalking so loudlyto politics and toenthusiastically neighborhoods. that At we one didn’t point, notice when the yelling behind us began. Back when Clay and I were in college, one of our favorite pastimes was to go driving in the vast countrysidesions surrounding on Delaware, our andtiny aschool, beautiful treewere lined making avenue as few of trees.movements Th ank and you as fredericklittle noise Law as possible, that intimatehoping that space, we evenwouldn’t if I have scare never. it away. pean folks, the women chase the men around with pussy willow branches. I took my best Icompadre think I have to itCentral pinned, Terminal something to witnesspops out, just some such restaurant, an and some I was architectural still bugged structure, out. it is nice to spiceCoke things Escovedo up once sangin a while.from theI knew speakers, very well “I wouldn’t that these change things, a alongthing withif I had tohe live talks my about life all the “shallow view” society shaped by a 20th century emphasis on material arborists around the country and they streamed in from far and wide. I never got a call, another was printed with Kipling-era jungle animals, elegantly bordered by maroon stripes tearsoccasion. were wildly While leaking the festivities out of my were eyes. mild She if wasn’tnot pathetic, about theto stop building though, is a beaconeven though in its post-apocalypticSoME PERSoN glory. Apops mammoth out and trainin a small station, way stranded I am transported. over.” ItI lookedseems like up Buffand gavealo awas nod ofsome appreciation slight agoraphobia, to the DJs would because be that keeping song me says in what my room feel about for about this life,the nextand it48 made hours. the I people dance. As we Baloo was screaming at Teddy, and I started to laugh because I was sure thatin factthey I were never kidding. had one See, single in the paying six months job out since of the I hadwhole moved crisis, to which Buf- seemsand odd since being exploring great stretches of empty spaces was one of our favorite things, naturally a drive around Buffolmsted! alo was necessary. As usually I spent the better part of my undergraduate years at Buff alo State. Hoyt Lake is by far my she had started to crack up too. development that ultimately broke down the “social and emotional development that happened on one andof these a hand-pasted journeys, weelephant set out whose not knowing trunk pointed what we’d upward, fi nd announcing or where we’d the endopening up. It fl wasap. aI bright, beautiful afternoon, and the We scared it away. or, I guess more accurately, it lost interest in us and wandered off . in the middle of a forgotten neighborhood, waits for rehabilitation. In the meantime, fi ne madeart majors by a bunchuse it for of theirpeople thesis who projects. just started off building.-beat brides shit. it wentseems deeper to be fiinto lled the with night people, James Brown’swill stare “Get at the up ceiling off that and thang” think wayplayed. too So much. the dancers If this Manchesterappropriately Place began apartment grabbing wasn’t people andunderpins bringing it.”them falo, I had never seen either of them truly upset about anything. But now Ithe saw city’s real only rage arborist.in Baloo as he yelled obscenities at the nonchalant Teddy sat on my front steps with the small fortune of words in my lap and felt impossibly pleased. favorite place in Buff alo; it has been the backdrop for a slew of life’s events. Hoyt Lake gather for photos in front of burned out windows and crumbling tiles. Rick James is awho native. like create MC and Hammer make shit. was And seen they three ain’t weeksalways agowaiting orto wonderingthe dance fl if oor.it makes Th at’s sense. when it happened. I watched him go from hopeless to hope-fi lled. He got up and started moving his massive body to the Ruxpin, who seemed to think he had done no wrong. I found out later that he had told Baloo that his entire Buff State education was a waste Buff alo sun shone down intensely to the point that Clay made me close my sunroof. Th e world was our oyster,Everyone and 33 drinks was theon thedoorway patio toat a sunsetBut in while midsummer. driving away Backs and slunk for weeksagainst later, forest I’d green recall whatwas happened, practically and in myI’m backyardconvinced so I it could holds never a number see that of memoriesin a larger for city me. or Someone that are wasgreat, “I watched one climb up that thing, climbing vertically, right up into the air, to get to the haunted by the old woman that died upstairs, it sure was haunted by half a decade of my But, I was close to the operation. Each morning it snowed for the months to come during chairs, some more comfortable than others, we expect very little. Presently: craft beer, breading.entering And Erie it just County sat in Medicalthere. And Center. it started playing in You it. Likecan buy it was an taking abandoned a bath. city-owned ooh, ithouse feels forlike a this dollar. place was made in a Ifever. recently And movedin that fevermusic they movedthe best faster, way he and knew drew how. Thown ere misadventures. were so many forpeople the dancingnext two I couldn’tdays I wouldeven see surviving Jenn, Taylor on the or sustenanceStacy. So I closedof tap my eyesother and forces I danced were at andwork that too: he should have gone to uB, which infuriated Baloo because it was too late, it was too critical, there was no reason for the comment, and long afternoon of sightseeing.Th e letters struck me, not just for their honesty and craft, but for the strange way in thriving. Maybe it’s my own delusions since I truly do lovesome Buff are…notalo for all sothe great. reasons My people very fi rstmake date fun in of it,Buff but alo in wasa place to see with Shakespeare more people, in themore Park, to my own space, away from coworkers and toward a house on Atlantic Avenue. I occupy wilder-two adjacent and still rooms do. Noton the apologizing. third fl oor: a bedroom Proud.and Likethe Kristinenight to said.day. As the night4 ended, as they all do, the euphoria began to fade. I needed to leave so I could hold that night in my memory. Teddy always made these insensitive comments without remorse. the clean up, I plowed out “Malcom Pierney’s” trucks. It was the only work I had, a snow which they all were somehow talking about the same thing: place. I should say that the good company, appetites frozen by a reasonsstrong desireto drive to around,tell stories—an more bustling imminent industry, feeling I ofdon’t knowand aif poignant I could have break-up ever seen also somethinghappened there.like that. An old roommate and I would often meet some cornmeal behind my little rat ears? oh, yes please.” water and plain fl our tortillas. I think I might have some almonds. Time would be passed Th e cultural revolution broke down old habits and traditional family structures. removal contract at Th e Mansion on Delaware, Buff alo’s most prestigious I andfi rst recognized took him to explore a bit of downtown, then around the harbor and arena area, and we worked our way out complacencyto the Central broughtTerminal. about Driving by a mutual desire to relax. We are friends, relatively speak- studio. When I moved my belongings from Brooklyn I had to drive 7 hours back to theAt city. KBGB I switched I danced rental for carsclose at to the two airport hours. and I am went came to with Ia made friend my but rounds then he and left. gave And my goodbyeswatching but full when seasons I came of Howto him, I Methe cried. Your He Mother, leaned or closely New toGirl, me orso anyI could easy hear distraction him over the music, “Th ank down William Street,letters we werelamented sent howfrom parts three of women the city whomhad fallen I love nearly but to haven’t ruin. I seenexpressed in some my convictiontime. one that the buildings could be beautiful there to run a few laps and catch up. on warm nights during freshman year, I’d sit on a He immediatelyWal-Mart to interjectedbuy painters from tape. across I had the purchased dining room 3 buckets table-- of “You latex never paint toldin Peacock me that! Blue, GrannyI just fl Smithung my and arms Moonstone and legs Chalkboard.around. Th e I spacepainted brought you the guys. moves You out don’t of knowme. Violent what this night did for me.” He said while squeezing my hand. “I had such a bad day just wanted have a beer before I In a heartbeat my whole vision of Buff alo was shattered. Th is city had seemedlodging soat theutopian time. to I couldn’t me when pay I fi myrst arrived.taxes that It year was and where still young haven’t people paid my credit card wandered its way to Buff alo from Ethiopia, one from the West Coast, while the last came ing, with each other, those rigid chairsonly hoisting later usdid up I learnwith aboutall of their the Seneca might. white deer whose habitathill with is some so relatively of the exchange close to the students, city, down talk aboutthe emptiness our cultures of 90, and but forge in a newway friendships.I want to currently streaming on Netfl ix. Th e never ending sea of free internet pornography will be Th e economic revolutiongot part replaced time jobs downtowns at Mighty with Taco sprawl. or Spot and spent the rest of their time readingdebt, but, fascinating so is the lifebooks of thefrom self-employed. Rust Belt, piled high on every surface of if they were only renovated. Clay, glancing between old, solitary brick buildings that used to be stores and probably once had windows, wasn’t so pretend it could only happen in this city. It could be that things like this happen here because no one visits, not even wandering wildlife. Awesome I NEVERall night would and intohave the eaten early there.” hours of Monday. My entire body was blue. It took two coats. weird crazy Icolorful don’t really moves. waste A manmy time dancing with it Brooklyn out lol. But I neverwent homefelt judged. and you “Weirdness” guys… Th ankmy you.” companion He continued. every couple of hours. I mightTh ese evenare memoriesget caught worth in some having, void memoriesof reading painted with the color- from a home, which had at one point felt like my own, in Vermont. A web of thoughts one playful sentence, one broken act is all that separates us from sorrow. Th e common Sometimes I’d go there alone when I needed to cry. I tell you this because my emotional ful people in this city. I remember telling Stacy about this guy as we walked to the car. “I’m glad I came out tonight.Th eMan, information I love revolutionthe apartment, replaced recording face-to-face hours community worth of songs organizations on four-track and recorders, instead drinking 22oz. Labatt cans from Wilson farms, smoking terrible fl avored sure about that. from there, we backtracked to the harbor and crossed the old iron bridge over the river so we could drive around by the General things happen in Buff alo, but outsiders cut themselves off from it and no one knows about what happens behind the snow and misfortune and “Well,anymore. it all went We movedinto the into fryer a formeranyway. crackhouse I’m sure anything in south Bushwickthat bubbled two around weeks ago.in that Sometimes (which you can might be fieasily nd yourselfreplaced holding by “misunderstood onto your kittens brilliance” - not that I am calling my the blogs of young porn stars. feeling weird pangs of jealousy as I look at photos of them 3. Th e few who have heard or read my writing knowMills of this plant. place, (It smelledall landing like Cheerios in Buff thatalo. day.) We ducked down towards Tiff t and ran around its tiny hills for pedestriana while. Th accident. en it was Th time at fordamn the car, in the road where it belonged. Th at now dead dog, connection to this place is so strong and it is the catalyst for the story below: for body warmth in a half-constructed room with no walls or ceiling. Anyway, don’t waste dancingyour time “misunderstood with Brooklyn. brilliance” ) Iis dreamtaccepted thatopenly I in BuffBuff alo.alo.” I concluded. Buff alo is. left people alone in smaller,cigars, and more having self-selecting, endless discussions more identical about communities. politics, philosophy, (As Brooks and how fucking amazing Kid A is and why. Suddenly it occurred to me that the bad football. I’m happy to spread that secret, though, even if no one believes me. grease for ten minutes died a very disgusting death.” hanging out in downtown Los Angeles. Tormenting myself by wishing I were younger, jobs were temporary and unwanted, the books were unread, and the songsSweetness went unheard. 7, that I=Was often the write drinking of to discuss the only the thingarchitectural that remained turbulence real? in emotionalold first forms. Ward. It Sometimesmay not sound as I searchtoo exciting to situate to any myself local, in but this for new us, city,it was—not I forget ahow thrill, often but everyonea good time. else running into the street with a rich, uncalculated playfulness. It was 2008 and I was on a walk around the lake with a friend. We’d simultaneously spot- sent you all a batch of pot brownies. Just don’t be surprised. Sometimes the unexpected consequencesBig. Small. Boring.of lucid Crazy.dreaming Just involve what you a bit expected. of diffi Exactlyculty what you didn’t expect. Empty. more attractive, not alone, and out in the sun. No music actually sounds good right now. puts it, “like found like.”) Its neighborhood, as I have suggested, has been re-built with an embodiment of green It was either May or June, I am not entirely sure, but I remember that it was warm enough to hop on my bike and ride with some friends down- “Th inat distinguishingdoesn’t make it thoughts any better!” from His reality. face Sometimesmade sure weI workknew inhe my was sleep still andoff ended.then wake up onlyfull ofto Motherflippers.work some more. Kind. often Big I dreamHearted of (evenyou. if the chest Realmight names not seem have grand been enoughchanged to more fun names. I had never been inaround the Ward, me isso also I had struggling no idea towhat make to expect.sense of Th place is wasand evident how to by make the factit, keep that it,I broughtreject or my carI would face to like face to with think the thatdozens he (orof she) died painlessly, but who’s to say? folded limbs, a ted the artless graffi ti on the cement dike near the smelly part toward Delaware Avenue. I may decide to be a total cliche and wallow in a bunch of Elliot Smith. Maybe some over All these combined toAnd dissolve when the I asked “webs myself of relationship” that question, that I gave thought, society “Well, a deeper, that works!”richer and localness. It isn’t just Sweetness, there is an entire collaboration of entrepreneurs that rejoice in it. Th e manifestations of place are sometimes agonizingly diverse, wherein we town. None of us were really sure what we were going toTh do ethat whole night, thing but started fi gured with there one was of enoughus off eringgoing a onsarcastic that we“really??” could fi andgure thesomething other just I suppose what I wanted you to know is this: You can drink a gallon of beer for a nickel.to hold it). MyIt leaves roots me seem with to bemore sinking. questions than answers.It Th was e a brightmost important but cold afternoon.one be- Methe and counter my buddies, sleeping Bozo pills theand Clown Portishead and Teddy will help Ruxpin, me nap had it just off wrapped. Maybe upif I browsing can fi nd every any CD at New World retro-fi tted a catholic elementary school, originally constructed in 1921, so thatrailroad classrooms tracks laid in the asphalt. I really don’t know how the rig drivers do it there, but hey, more power to them.crushed torso, lifeless paws disappearing into a clump of mangled fur—all indicators of I got myself together enough to add, “Did you ever see it when they would saunter out social fabric. And withBaloo those and webs Teddy disintegrated, made peace. people’s Bozo andsocial I bought capital tonsdiminished of CDs andfrom New World. I met the love of my life, who had no ambiguity about her fi nd ourselves contending with the fact that every place we go and everything we interact a truth that we all fail to admit. If it out.happened Th ey fastwere enough, having whya dance should party it atmatter Mohawk that itPlace, sounderstood we stopped – therewe both but loveddid not this want park. to ourpay theconversation cover. We continuedrode a little despite ways andthe interjec-bought Lets get in a hammock and catch up. Yours, Cumin ing: Where did all this people come from?Record (In response and we decidedto the fact to thatmosey onenergy down at Delaware all I will to give Gordon’s Damaged for a couplespin, ya of know pints andTh irsty popcorn, and asMiserable well as toand catch all. a littleMost ofbit of thethey early were rounds left rootless. could become living quarters with lunch-box sized hot water heaters. A rain-garden has forties. Riding back, we went to the top of the parking garage adjacent to Mohawk and watched the people mill in and out of the dance party into the dining room when it was quiet? Th is one night, there was only one girl in the every bar was packed even at close to 4am) Well maybe that’s not the most impor- sexual preference, at McGarrett’s. Louisiana to Southwith to Hamburgis part of aStreet. growing Right record on o’Connell.of experience Clay that was can directing feel, depending me which on waythe moment,to go. Th e endindeed of each did happenblock held at all?a diff erent tion for a minute or two. But then: restaurant, sitting at a table waiting for someone. And this giant, fat, cat-sized rat very all, I know that time is the only real cure. So I will wait. I will start to get over it in a couple been built on the corner, the Italian market Guercio’s intentionally stayed the same, and empowering or overwhelming, As one friend wrote: tant question. maybe the question is: Have I fi gured out Buff allo in one day? days. I tell myself I will straighten up, and do things better. However, I am aware enough to But not in Buff alo. a tee-shirt shop named “Krud-Mart” opened providing a fl ush of spring growth to a city Th ose green chairs took on a diff erent purpose, a diff erent meaning entirely—welcome “We should do something about that!” our pace suddenly slowed. calmly walked out into the dining room and just did his rounds. She saw it and I saw it No. Absolutely not. And that’s exciting. What I do know is, the city has some- and we looked at each other. She left without saying anything. And then, after the boss know that next week I will probably just do it all again. I don’t know how my sober friends As interviewee after interviewee for our project pointed out, Buff alo’s economic hardships that has been locked in a fi fty year long winter. Th is neighborhood couldn’t have been born I was then fl ooded by thoughts about how a place can be so impossibly charged with conduits to displace our memory of the whole incident. In an hour we forgot about it all, “Yeah… Yeah! We should!” And that was enough. We immedi- thing, something interesting enough- to make you one to hang around a… bit… more. gets by the way they do. Th en again, they don’t seem all that happy either. without that traumatic meteorological event. meaning and expectation- even if/when you’ve never been there before. Th en I thought how the dog’s owner came running into the road to be torn away from reality, how he ately spun on our heels to return to the wall and inspect our canvas. We spent less than came in from smoking eight cigarettes, he was like, “What! Every place on Allen has rats! 10:54am (BuT I WoKE uP AT 9:45!!!) Th e elevator in our building has a mind in the latter part of the 20th century saved the elements of its society that support its She shouldn’t care!” revival today. Case in point: about the scope of it, that a place can be the corner of a stairwell where you cried your eyes cried unrelentingly. Clutch your dead friend. Hold it like it still could be alive, I thought. fi ve minutes discussing our plans before we headed out to get supplies. We weeded and of its own. No matter how many times you put in your card key, and how many times I’ve spent much of my life wondering what it would be like to live someplace other than Buf- My writing there, aiming to point at a species of the hyper-real, often described a mural on out, or the building where you had your fi rst job, or the country you’ve only seen on TV, painted well past midnight on a project which had come to be called “Project: Save the “He would always say that! And yeah, probably every place does have rat problems, but you press the button for your fl oor- “It’s an adventure to see where you’re going to end falo. Is this born to lose mentality inherent to my environment? Would I still want to die or Th ey never knocked down their old buildings or houses to build new ones. the south wall of the café. Th e representation was of perfectly structured and fl owing trees or even the mental state you have to embrace to go to sleep at night. It was a small dog. Never had a chance, really. Th e man breathed into its lungs like he World” or PSTW. We walked away with an absurdly bright “sunshine yellow” cement up!” Th at’s what the older lady in the elevator said to me. Kinda reminded me of Buff allo. die trying if I were from Montana, or Texas, or Spain, or New Zealand? Am I just looking that stood in front of the building. It always caught me as part of the dream, as the trees could bring it back, knelt over it like a paramedic. No training needed to care about some- you know it’s bad when they don’t even act afraid of you. one reached out and touched me Th ey kept their park system largely intact. wall and a promise to return the next day. in the kitchen once. I was walking through and it just kind of reached out and patted me I normally don’t do what I did last night (which is what everybody says when he wake for somewhere to place the blame, or am I programmed to maintain the proud to be mis- outside, European Lindens, were still broken and battered. Th is was a friend that had moved to the opposite side of the country believing that a thing that you love. Probably carried the body back home to bury it in a shallow, damp Conroy & Brown: an Impractical Introduction

On December 23, 2008, I awoke in my apartment on West Ferry to the sound of falling rain. I groggily tried to go back to sleep, now with the pleasant feeling of being in bed when you know it is raining outside. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that the sound was coming from inside my kitchen. I was soon staring blankly at water pouring through my ceiling. Dumbfounded, I ran downstairs to find the water line. While running downstairs, I heard the crash of my ceiling caving in.

I was now left with a complete view of the weird liminal space between floors, complete with wood frames and pipes. Gazing up at this newly discovered region, I noticed a box of yel- lowing papers, all rolled up and sticking out in all directions. It was at this point that I first came across Conroy and Brown, a short-lived map making company known for their more “impractical” brand of cartography.

In 1905, Thomas Conroy and Errol Brown opened a mapmaking shop that focused exclu- sively on charting an individual’s engagement with place and not so much on the pertinent physical details. These maps represented how people actually interacted with their surround- ings, boldly ignoring the traditional tools used at the time to negotiate physical geography. Despite this unorthodox approach to the cartography trade, these impractical maps gained popularity and by 1910, everyone in Buffalo had one in their homes.

Despite this initial demand, the company was hit hard during the Depression, and by 1946 Conroy and Brown’s grandsons had little interest in continuing their family’s work. Today, the most you might find is an anecdotal mention from a great grandparent or two. How the archive ended up in my ceiling, I will never know.

Following my discovery and subsequent research, I was inspired and wanted to continue Conroy and Brown’s project to document today’s stories. After all, our connections with place are ongoing, and each of us has a story to contribute. I got in touch with the individu- als who could put this together (2 of whom had their first Buffalo apartments on West Ferry) and gave them everything I had. Unfortunately, I left Buffalo rather abruptly after this, so I can only offer this brief letter of introduction. I am told they have put together a large collec- tion of individual narratives-- narratives that emphasize the fact that places we inhabit shape us just as much as we shape them.

-Clara Tormhilles

5 University Heights & East North Buffalo

Elmwood Black Rock & Riverside Allentown

West Side

Table of Contents East Side

Old CITY & Lackawanna

Allentown 8 University Heights & East 54 West Side 15 Black Rock & Riverside 59 Elmwood 21 East Side 64 North Buffalo 41 Our Mostly Practical Mission 69 Old City & Lackawanna 46 Contributors 70 Allentown

8 The Audience Game, sp@ce 224

Joshua Underscore

Though it’s been brought up a few times, we’ve nev- that instant, the proto-idea stopped being a possibil- er been clear on how it actually happened. The way I ity, crystallizing into something tangible, like letting recall is that it all began when sp@ce 224 owner Jose Schrodinger’s cat out of the bag. The couple, with- Rodriguez started lining chairs up in rows facing the out breaking step, looked at us with a mixture of largest of the two gallery windows. curiosity and suspicion. We all knew what was going to occupy the rest of our evening. The night was a warmish one towards the end of August or the beginning of September of 2011. Jose, For about the first half hour or so, everybody who Hunger Anthem frontman Brendan Vaganek, and walked by gave us the same mixture of curiosity and myself were putting back a few in the darkened and suspicion as that first couple. Sometimes it was a vacant artspace. As shit-shooting went, it was pretty group of four or five and sometimes it was a loner, standard fare. And then Jose started with the chairs. but the reactions were pretty consistent. And then, as the night wore on, the response began to shift. I looked at him quizzically and inquired what in the People would recognize that same crystallized quan- sweet Betsy of Pike he was doing. He replied simply, tum cat and immediately after walking out of view, “stadium seating.” As standing beer swilling louts they’d return and take a bow. And through some around the globe are wont to do when offered a new sort of hive-mind phenomenon, it became the seating option, we sat, gazing out that large gallery norm. People would catch on quicker and quicker, window directly at The Pink. bowing as soon as the applause began.

The only lighting in the room originated from two Around midnight things advanced further. No lon- or three showcase lights above the window. Some- ger resigned to accepting our approval with grace, thing gradually began to form in my mind; a proto- the passers-by began to perform. It started with idea, if you will. I got a sense of a possibility without some posing and progressed over the next couple truly being aware of what was transpiring. I then hours to singing, dancing, miming, the occasional suggested that we point the lights at the chairs. display of bosoms, and finally, mooning. The num- There was a general air of agreement and the lights ber of concurrent performers also increased over were adjusted. So there we were, three grown men time. For the majority of the night it would be one sipping beer and sitting in three of about twelve at a time, but by the end there would be three or seats, which were arranged as they would be in a four inebriated performers vying for our attention. small theater, the only points of illumination in an In all fairness, as our beer supply slowly dwindled, otherwise darkened gallery, framed by a large win- our applause moved from polite clapping to shout- dow on Allen Street directly across from The Old ing and cheering with a standing ovation thrown Pink at approximately 11 post meridien. in every now and again for good measure. As the And then the Promethean moment came. A couple mooning became more and more frequent, it be- walked by. Like the first shot fired in the American came apparent that it was time to close up shop. Revolutionary War, we’ll never know who was re- That was the first occurrence of what was to become sponsible, but one of us clapped, long and loud. At known as The Audience Game.

9 Through the end of the year, we would play The Au- The Audience Game made a few appearances in dience Game every few weeks, sometimes with only 2012 and never really come together again the way four or five in attendance, sometimes with a crowd it did in those first few months. And now that sp@ of fifteen to twenty. The most interesting part about ce 224 is up for sale, it may stay that way. But if the whole thing is that each game progressed in the you’ve ever been applauded as you walked down Al- exact same fashion, completely independent of who len by a bunch of drunkards behind a window, you was involved. As the blood alcohol content of the were a very important part of what made that gallery audience and performers increased and the hour got a legendary place in the minds of a small crowd. later, there would be a standard progression of those outside the gallery walls from confusion to more and more elaborate performing to eventual moon- ing. The same way every time.

Relevant Experience

Kristine Conroy

I was leaning desperately on the empty door frame “Well, it all went into the fryer anyway. I’m sure of our kitchen, laughing so hard that tears were anything that bubbled around in that grease for ten wildly leaking out of my eyes. She wasn’t about to minutes died a very disgusting death.” stop though, even though she had started to crack up too. “That doesn’t make it any better!” His face made sure we knew he was still offended. “I watched one climb up that thing, climbing verti- cally, right up into the air, to get to the breading. I got myself together enough to add, “Did you ever And it just sat in there. And it started playing in see it when they would saunter out into the dining it. Like it was taking a bath. Ooh, some cornmeal room when it was quiet? This one night, there was behind my little rat ears? Oh, yes please.” only one girl in the restaurant, sitting at a table wait- ing for someone. And this giant, fat, cat-sized rat He immediately interjected from across the dining very calmly walked out into the dining room and room table—“You never told me that! I NEVER just did his rounds. She saw it and I saw it and we would have eaten there.” looked at each other. She left without saying any-

10 thing. And then, after the boss came in from smok- through each one—and somehow, it’s consistently ing eight cigarettes, he was like, “What! Every place hearty laughter. on Allen has rats! She shouldn’t care!” Her and I both have desk jobs now, her in the arts “He would always say that! And yeah, probably and me in the non-profit sector. We get regular pay- every place does have rat problems, but you know checks and sexual harassment is now something that it’s bad when they don’t even act afraid of you. One there are rules against. She says everyone in her of- reached out and touched me in the kitchen once. I fice complains that there is a rat problem, but we was walking through and it just kind of reached out both know until you watch a rat play in cornmeal and patted me with its little rat hand. Boop.” breading like it’s a sandbox, you don’t really know what you’re talking about. “Shit, I almost stepped right on top of one once be- cause I figured it would dart out of the way! That was the time I dropped the tray with three steak sandwiches on it and he threw one of the skillets across the kitchen and then threatened to take it out of ‘my pay.’ He got even madder when I laughed at that—I mean, come on, you’re going to take it out of the $800 you owe me? Go for it, I’ll take the $770 you’ll never come up with.”

Her boyfriend, despite having just learned too much about the hush puppies, was always pretty patient as her and I revisited, yet again, all the madness that was those overnight shifts. I’m sure we’ll bring up that one dude who would always come in asking if we wanted to see his “dick tattoo” which was a tattoo on his leg of a penis or his “dick piercing” which assumably was an unsolicited offer to see his genitalia. Or the various ways we would respond to the incredibly personal and invasive questions that were always a staple of trying to cash someone out to just get rid of them. Or the times the boss would somehow make a half bottle of Tullamore Dew dis- appear and try to impress young girls by loading their hotdogs up with a bunch of random toppings they didn’t want, girls that were already prone to complaining and leaving only the exact amount on their hand-scribbled bill.

We’d undoubtedly revisit all the promises he made and how he never followed through. But we had both quit months ago, and it closed almost immedi- ately afterwards. So, except for occasionally mutter- ing about how nice it would be to have that money he owed us, we had mostly come to terms with what had happened in that little late-night Allentown restaurant. And typically, as we retell moments of these nights over and over, we still laugh our way

11 1:42 AM

The Guy That No One Knows

1:42 am 1:59am

Buffalo.O n a nearly drunken. In a mostly clear mo- We had stopped back in our hotel. at 1:42am. my ment. For Kristine. roommate was to smoke some weed. Me too. Now we return to the streets of Buffalo. To go dancing. :) Buffalo. Seems to me to be a sparkly kinda classy kinda wild place where all the kids come creepy crawling out at night and suck the streets (and bars) dry. Where the art is every(where). From your clas- sic (the architecture) to the ornaments and shining 3:46am things and paints on every bar- crazy crazy colors. Cool cool posters. Where is Buffalo? In between. (“whose that guy…?” “He’s the guy that no one In between Chicago, and New york. Now I feel In knows!”) between the world I know and this fantastical col- orful abstract awkward (but in a good way) other Just returned from kristine’s cafe for the second world. There are pros and cons. It’s small. But like time. (the first time being when she gave me this other ‘small’ cities (I spent some time in Baltimore assignment- or offered me this assignment or gifted recently) you can sense/feel the community. The me this assignment) feel that everybody knows everybody. The feel that It was a very short stop in before I returned home. people who built things (stores and such) here still I came in soaking from head to toe. I had been work those same things. We did a show at Medaille dancing at KBGB (BGKB or GBBK or GGBB) today. I am an actor on a tour- bringing plays about a bar down the road. I had been informed by the issues to the college youth. bartenders at Mulligan’s (YEA THEY RECOM- My roommate interrupts my thoughts with talk MEND COSTUMERS TO THEIR COMPETI- of Jack Black in Tropic Thunder. But my mind TORS!!!???) that KGBG was the bar to end up at. returns to Jeanine the counselor at Medaille and When I first got, after I had paid my 5 dollar cover, I what she said about Buffalo. She said a beautiful walked into a bar that looked like any other bar. No phrase- which I at 1:42am cannot remember- but space to dance, cramped and small. UTTER DIS- she described how Buffalo as basically: a place of SAPOINTMENT. But right when I had given up good neighbors. Now allow me to romanticize… *I hope another room- a crazy octagonal dark cave of would have finished this sentence but I was inter- sound and lights- appeared out of nowhere. With rupted again- lost train of thought- too much energy a full stage and a DJ spinning and bodies on the to try and find way back*... dance floor. All kinds of crazy paintings and post- ers, pictures and shapes covering the dark walls. Out of nowhere appeared this totally other world. That’s what buffalo has been like for me today. Every time THIS IS UnEDITED. I think I have it pinned, something pops out, some restaurant, some architectural structure, SOME

12 PERSON pops out and in a small way I am trans- 10:54am (BUT I WOKE UP AT 9:45!!!) ported. It seems like Buffalo was made by a bunch of people who just started building. shit. it seems The elevator in our building has a mind of its own. to be filled with people, who like create and make No matter how many times you put in your card shit. And they ain’t always waiting or wondering if key, and how many times you press the button for it makes sense. it feels like this place was made in a your floor- “It’s an adventure to see where you’re go- fever. And in that fever they moved faster, and drew ing to end up!” That’s what the older lady in the wilder- and still do. Not apologizing. elevator said to me. Kinda reminded me of Buffallo. I normally don’t do what I did last night (which Proud. Like Kristine said. is what everybody says when he wake up the next morning) But Buffallo made me feel like “Ah what At KBGB I danced for close to two hours. I am the heck.” Thanks for that Bufallo. THANKS. came with a friend but then he left. And I just flung my arms and legs around. The space brought My body aches. My head hurts. But my heart is the moves out of me. Violent weird crazy colorful filled. moves. A man dancing it out lol. But I never felt judged. “Weirdness” (which can be easily replaced And Gooey. And Smiling. by “misunderstood brilliance” - not that I am calling Maybe that’s because the drinks where cheap. my dancing “misunderstood brilliance” ) is accepted openly in Buffalo. 2 Red Stripes. One Yuengling. A shot of Jack. And a Seagram’s Manhattan. Buffalo is. Big. Small. Boring. Crazy. Just what you expected. Exactly what you didn’t expect. Empty. $17. NEEEEDDD I SAY MORE!! Thank you Mul- Full of MotherFlippers. Kind. Big Hearted (even if ligans!! the chest might not seem grand enough to hold it). It leaves me with more questions than answers. The Other small things: most important one being: Kim was my bartender at Mulligans. Kim was awe- Where did all this people come from? (In response some. to the fact that every bar was packed even at close I wanted a manhattan. She didn’t have sweet ver- to 4am) mouth or a glass. (she had the little side bar). When Well maybe that’s not the most important question. I came up later to pay my tab she excited told me how she had found me a glass! And found me some maybe the question is: Have I figured out Buffallo sweet vermouth. And that I could have a manhat- in one day? tan. Or I could close out if I wanted too. I had to say yes! I MEAN SHE FOUND ME A GLASS No. Absolutely not. And that’s exciting. AND SWEET VERMOUTH!!! ( I also had a lovely What I do know is, the city has something, some- bartendress before Kim too!! I forgot her name. I’m thing interesting enough- to make you one to hang sorry I am normally really good with names. BUT around a… bit… more. YOU WERE LOVELY!) At Kristine’s the second time. I had a lovely little chat with a gentleman (24 years old I think- if you live in Buffalo maybe you know him- if you are curi- ous ask Kristine- maybe I should give you more info on him) But he makes his living- designing cases…

13 1:48pm

… for bands and making custom drums and mak- ing custom instruments. He has hoodies for all his workers. He spent a year on one set of drums. He said they turned out great.

Just left Niagara Falls. It ain’t Buffalo. but it’s close though. An awesome end to Buffalo adventure.

Me and my friends (who are traveling with) love you Buffallo. Hopefully that makes you feel good.

Love

“The guy that no one knows”

14 West Side

15 Down and Out in Buffalo

Pat Shanahan

I have yet to pry open my eyes, but I can feel the ex- my wallet? Who did I offend? What stupid stuff did cruciatingly bright winter sunlight blasting through I say? Is this really what I am doing at 28 years old? my bedroom windows. It is that 15 minutes of hard My stomach feels as though it has endured a decent sun that shows up late in the morning on some amount of dirty Rolling Rock, so I must have spent March days. It is not comforting though. It ampli- at least a few minutes at the Pub. I can only imagine fies the cold as it reflects off the dirty snow. As I the embarrassing things I probably slurred to some try to roll over, I feel my arm peel off of the sheet poor young Buff State girl. I probably found some as if it were glued down. Curiosity brings me to fi- mousey girl with glasses and told her she had “specs nally expose my bare eyes to whatever harsh reality appeal.” I bet I asked someone if they wanted to go has come to pair itself with that goddamn sunlight. home with me to eat macaroni and cheese and cud- Dried blood covers my left arm, as well as the corner dle. I wonder what kind of shit I talked about ev- of the bed sheet. The pocket knife I got as a gift for eryone’s bands, but that I don’t actually mean. Hell, being the best man in my friend’s wedding is lying I might have even cried a little at some point. Re- open on the floor. The cut across my wrist is really ally, I hope I just sat in a dark corner alone and was not much more than a scratch. Not even a cry for grumpy most of the night. As I ponder, I scratch my help. It resembles the inner thigh of a sad teenage scalp and the dust of cheap pomade clouds the air. girl more than anything. Hardly any kind of legiti- mate suicide attempt. This is the second time this In defeat, I crash my head back down onto the old winter I have woken up bloody (the first involved flat pillow. I stretch my legs in this king size bed oc- me crawling through my bedroom window after cupied by one single jester. Almost immediately the smashing the glass with a flower pot). loneliness sets in and I curl up and embrace the com- forter as tightly as I can. I wish that she was here, but I sit up and try to assess the situation. I pick up the I am glad that she is not. I would want her to scratch carton of warm Wegmans orange juice off the floor. my back, comfort me, and tell me how everything I guzzle what is left, as if some vitamin C, D and wasn’t that bad. She would try to repair my broken calcium would make everything better. I can’t tell self esteem, and tell me that I am a good person. In if I am shaking due to the cold, the anxiety, or the reality, I probably deserve to feel like shit. She never booze. Mostly likely a lovely cocktail of all of the deserved to have to put up with it. It is good that above. All the questions that I don’t have answers to she left. She is much better than this. The past few run through my head. Where was I last night? Mo- months have been one self sabotage after another, hawk Place? Essex? The Pink? Some combination of trying to push her away from sinking with this dead the three? How did I get home? How have I never weight. As I was about to drown in a river of Genny, gotten mugged making that 4am drunken walk all I wanted to watch her float on to a better world. the way down Richmond Ave? Why are my pants neatly folded on the dresser? That looks like hot sauce on my Brown Sugar shirt. Did I get a chicken finger sub from Jim’s? How many awful text mes- sages did I send? How much money was not left in

16 I need to think about something else, so I focus on erable and all. Most of all, I know that time is the recovery. I had been here before. There had been only real cure. So I will wait. I will start to get over many nights lived trying to make sure there was no it in a couple days. I tell myself I will straighten up, morning after. However, it never worked out that and do things better. However, I am aware enough way. So now I knew what to expect. The anxiety, to know that next week I will probably just do it all depression, and regret were all standard staples of again. I don’t know how my sober friends get by the my “sadovers.” The blood was a newer addition, but way they do. Then again, they don’t seem all that I guess it is nice to spice things up once in a while. happy either. I knew very well that these things, along with some slight agoraphobia, would be keeping me in my I’ve spent much of my life wondering what it would room for about the next 48 hours. I will stare at the be like to live someplace other than Buffalo. Is this ceiling and think way too much. If this Manchester born to lose mentality inherent to my environment? Place apartment wasn’t haunted by the old woman Would I still want to die or die trying if I were from that died upstairs, it sure was haunted by half a de- Montana, or Texas, or Spain, or New Zealand? Am cade of my own misadventures. For the next two I just looking for somewhere to place the blame, or days I would be surviving on the sustenance of tap am I programmed to maintain the proud to be mis- water and plain flour tortillas. I think I might have erable rust belt mindset? Or am I just an asshole? It some almonds. Time would be passed watching full doesn’t really matter much. I love it here, I really do. seasons of How I Met Your Mother, or New Girl, Still, every year I hope that, one way or another, I or any easy distraction currently streaming on Net- will not have to see another winter. flix. The never ending sea of free internet pornogra- phy will be my companion every couple of hours. I might even get caught in some void of reading the blogs of young porn stars. Feeling weird pangs of jealousy as I look at photos of them hanging out in downtown Los Angeles. Tormenting myself by wishing I were younger, more attractive, not alone, and out in the sun. No music actually sounds good right now. I may decide to be a total cliche and wal- low in a bunch of Elliot Smith. Maybe some over the counter sleeping pills and Portishead will help me nap it off. Maybe if I can find any energy at all I will give Damaged a spin, ya know Thirsty and Mis-

17 MAP Buffalove

Bernice Radle

When asked to map Buffalo, I have to say—where You see, this was the day I met Jason Wilson-- ac- do I start? tivist, preservationist and Buffalo lover. And while you may laugh at this, it was an incredible meeting Maybe I talk about my high school experiences that has changed my life forever. It was an event that of skipping classes to go to Spot Coffee and New made my two worlds collide... the event where I re- World Record on Elmwood Avenue? alized I could do Buffalove stuff with someone who Do I tell people about how I moved to California loved it as much as I did. with the intention of never coming back, only to So we met at Sweetness on a chilly fall day. We come back at the age of 21 because I realized I want- talked about art, buffalo, preservation and oppor- ed something real? tunities to work together. He was so cute with his Maybe I talk about my experiences of playing & little corduroy pants and big smile. I knew I had to watching local shows in attics, crazy rave parties get this guy out to more meetings, more events and in Larkin Land factories or watching a basement more Buffalo preservation stuff. His dedication, pas- show deep in the West Side where everyone hits the sion and love for Buffalo was (is) incredible. Follow- HVAC duct work to the beat, creating a magical ing the meeting, he received a text saying, “you’re a moment of underground music and hipsterness? real gem.”

Or should I focus on Buffalo related activities— Within a few months, he was mine for keeping and helping to create another Buffalo Carshare hub, as I write this, we share a little apartment on Buf- pushing for preservation or downtown investment? falo’s West Side. Today, we have started our own Maybe, just maybe I write about my experience development company called BuffaLove Develop- with buying houses on the In Rem Foreclosure Auc- ment; we were featured in Buffalo Spree for being tion—a day that changed my life? game changers and even highlighted by the Na- tional Trust for Historic Preservation for our “heart So, when I am asked to map my Buffalove, I have to bomb” initiative. We dance, we work crazy hard and think of the day, the event and/or the place where we Buffalove all day long. my life goals and my love for this city came together. So many memories! So many events! So many places Our relationship is something really special and and great experiences!! What one do I choose? I have it all to thank to Sweetness_7, the setting where my two worlds collided. I know, I will choose the day my worlds collided.

There was a day where my two worlds finally crossed paths… actually it was more like they smashed into each other, fireworks went off and my heart explod- ed—all over a cup of coffee at Sweetness_7 on Grant Street in Buffalo’s West Side.

18 Why Buffalo Is Your Future, No Matter Where You Live

Julia Rocchi

“Oh, you’re interviewing for Buffalo Unscripted?” explores how our unconscious impacts all aspects said the owner of Five Points Bakery to the customer of our life, from academics to politics to neighbor- ahead of me in line. “Then you get a free loaf of hoods. At one point, he talks about the “shallow bread!” view” society shaped by a 20th century emphasis on material development that ultimately broke down “Really?” she said. the “social and emotional development that under- “Really!” he answered. “We posted it on our Face- pins it.” book wall. Everyone who participates gets a free loaf Other forces were at work too: of fresh cinnamon raisin bread. Because we love this project and want everyone to come.” The cultural revolution broke down old habits and traditional family structures. True story. It happened when I was filming in Buf- falo in 2011 for the aforementioned Buffalo Un- The economic revolution replaced downtowns with scripted, an online documentary project from the sprawl. National Trust for Historic Preservation. The information revolution replaced face-to-face Five Points Bakery was just one of our meet-up lo- community organizations and instead left people cations, and this was just one affirming moment of alone in smaller, more self-selecting, more identical many throughout the project, but it captures why communities (As Brooks puts it, “like found like.”). I fell truly/madly/deeply in Buffalove. Not because I’m a carb addict, but because I’m a community ad- All these combined to dissolve the “webs of relation- dict. And Buffalo is my new drug. ship” that gave society a deeper, richer social fabric. And with those webs disintegrated, people’s social My colleagues and I thought we were crazy when capital diminished and they were left rootless. we ended filming and experienced sudden, acute separation anxiety from a city where we’d spent only But not in Buffalo. 11 days. What about this old Rust Belt town was As interviewee after interviewee for our project calling us home? pointed out, Buffalo’s economic hardships in the lat- I wouldn’t have put my finger on it if I hadn’t just ter part of the 20th century saved the elements of its finished reading The Social Animal: The Hidden society that support its revival today. Case in point: Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement by They never knocked down their old buildings or David Brooks. houses to build new ones.

Drawing on the wide field of brain science, Brooks They kept their park system largely intact.

19 They came to rely on grassroots organizing to Of knowing my mailman’s name. achieve community-centric goals. In my opinion, Buffalo shows us how we can rein- They made a point of knowing and relying on their state the social systems that hold us together and neighbors. meld them with the march of progress. When Buf- falonians look at their city, they don’t see the Rust The result: Buffalo greets the 21st century with com- Belt/snow-encased stereotype the rest of the country munity solidarity, a can-do attitude, a reasonable pokes fun at. They see neighbors working together. cost-of-living, and a strong sense of place. They see progress and reinvention. And they see it Now, it’s not all rainbow-farting unicorns. The met- all happening right now. Not in some distant, amor- ro area is still in search of a new post-manufacturing phous future, but in real time, as we speak. economy. Their medical corridor holds promise, Buffalo is a city well under way. We in other cities as do the energy and arts sectors, but none have should keep an eye on it. Better yet, we should par- emerged as the winning ticket just yet. ticipate in it, whether there or in our own commu- That said, the city has a lot going for it, not the least nities. As native Meagan Baco said to me once, “My of which is its depth of community. And that’s pre- one word for Buffalo is POSSIBLE. Anyone can be cisely what had me checking real estate listings by a Buffalonian, no matter where they are.” the end of the week. Something deep in my uncon- Take it from an outsider looking it. Take it from scious suddenly realized it was tired of transience, of someone who considers herself a Buffalonian at living in a place with a shifting, nondescript point of heart. It’s time to discard the shallow view. It’s time view. And it got really, really excited about the idea to be Buffalo. of supporting local artists. Of joining a block club.

20 ELMWOOD

21 to go back

Nick Torsell

I used to sit on the corner of Elmwood and Bidwell during the summer with my friends and watch people go by. To put my head back against the wall and blur the colors and shapes of movement rush- ing past was comforting. I would drift in and out of conversations around me, listening for bits of music playing from open car windows and laughter from the park close by. I would leave every night waiting to go back the next day.

Elmwood and Bidwell Failure to Connect Alex spilled his small coffee { He hoped no one saw

22 Emotion in Scales

Matthew Dore

1. 2.

There was a traumatic meteorological event during This state of emergency still lingers today, only the football season of 2006 that is known to locals as some adulterated residue that can’t seem to be as “The October Storm.” I’m one of those locals but washed away. The morning after, the storm clean- not in every way. A heavy snowfall fell before the up began, but landscapes ended. For a short time, leaves had a chance to, and because of the height- landscapes became a wasted investment. Why spend ened potentiality for surface tension, thousands of one’s money on something that will only be de- trees came down to the ground. Those left were only stroyed. left in part. The community, of course, gelled and came together Having spent my life working with landscapes, my in a neighborly way—as so happens with any storm first duty was to snowplow. Waking at 3AM (in my severe enough to give neighbors the day off from bedroom at the “Old Wondermoth” co-op at Elm- work. Soon followed community symposiums on wood and North) I stepped out into an unfamiliar the state of the trees, which I performed at, with- city. The empty open spaces designed for movement out a fee, happy to oblige. In a way, it was my 15 and recreation were now filled with fallen trees. The minutes of fame being the only resident certified canopy one never notices, an urban ceiling that arborist in the city of Buffalo. Work was happening isn’t recognized in the everydayness of automobiles, everywhere. Assessments and inventories needed to storefront signage, and a vibration or rhythm that be made. The urban forest, it was said, was in great fades away into a non-space of the blasé, a time held peril, it was arborgedon. Olmstead profited the by the alternation of red and green lights, was gone. most, as without the storm, many may not remem- Eighteen inches of snow dampened the neighbor- ber his name. To heal, trees were planted in all the hood into an eerie silence. The deep crunch of each parks and affluent neighborhoods. Conditions were footstep became an alarm drawing the hidden eyes so bad FEMA was brought in. To make us Buffalo sleeping in the windows onto me. The darkness and again, “Malcolm Pierney,” specialists in disaster re- silence, lack of movement, and the absence of power lief, similar to Haliburton, were brought in to man- coursing through the city suddenly made it an un- age. Calls went out to arborists around the country comfortable private place I was intruding on. and they streamed in from far and wide. I never got a call, in fact I never had one single paying job out With all the passages blocked, I drove five miles of the whole crisis, which seems odd being the city’s to find my destination only four blocks away. The only arborist. labyrinth of passageways, so familiar they may as well have been a long one-way street, suddenly were But, I was close to the operation. Each morning it scrambled into a new city. With every rhythm sup- snowed for the months to come during the clean pressed, corridors collapsed, and affectation flat- up, I plowed out “Malcolm Pierney’s” trucks. It was tened, the flavored sensation experienced mixed the only work I had, a snow removal contract at The cold and emergency that bit at both sides of the Mansion On Delaware, Buffalo’s most prestigious skin, fearing one may be lost. This could have been and recognized lodging at the time. I couldn’t pay Sandusky, Cleveland, or Sheboygan. my taxes that year and still haven’t paid my credit

23 card debt, but, so is the life of the self-employed. growth to a city that has been locked in a fifty year long winter. This neighborhood couldn’t have been born without that traumatic meteorological event.

3. My writing there, aiming to point at a species of The few who have heard or read my writing know of the hyper-real, often described a mural on the south this place, Sweetness 7, that I often write of to discuss wall of the café. The representation was of perfectly the architectural turbulence in emotional forms. Its structured and flowing trees that stood in front of neighborhood, as I have suggested, has been re-built the building. It always caught me as part of the with an embodiment of green and localness. It isn’t dream, as the trees outside, European Lindens, were just Sweetness, there is an entire collaboration of still broken and battered. entrepreneurs that retro-fitted a catholic elementary What my previous writing failed to capture, is just school, originally constructed in 1921, so that class- that, my failure to capture my own capturing. Each rooms could become living quarters with lunch-box time, each piece of writing, those trees became a fo- sized hot water heaters. A rain-garden has been built cal point of the work. It speaks to this other city that on the corner, the Italian market Guercio’s inten- I live in, alone. tionally stayed the same, and a tee-shirt shop named “Krud-Mart” opened providing a flush of spring

Sandbox

Kristine Conroy

“No. You must get out of the sandbox.” “I will write you the letter.”

I stared at him blankly. It wasn’t his thick French “Oh, okay, thank—“ accent that was confusing. I just wasn’t expecting this as a response to asking him if he would write “If you apply somewhere else in addition to our de- me a letter of recommendation. partment. Look at Binghamton’s program, Stoney- brook… but Buffalo. Yes. Look at Buffalo.” “What?” “Buffalo?” “Why won’t you apply anywhere else? Don’t tell me it’s for a boy.” Don’t they have cables running between all the buildings on campus so you can pull yourself to “No, um, no boy. I just, I dunno, I like it here, I class through the blizzards? I didn’t ask. I think I have a job… an apartment… I dunno.” probably agreed meekly and left his office. I had not

24 expected anyone to tell me that day that I should it didn’t talk about the working urban farms that pro- walk away from everything I knew and had built vide fresh food and jobs to the city’s kids and their here so far for the city of Buffalo. It is a city, right? families; it didn’t describe the organizations that are working for safe and affordable housing for the resi- After doing some research that mostly consisted of dents already living here; it didn’t detail the innova- one wikipedia page, I could not substantiate my tions and experiments in inner-city education and it snow cable rumor but I did have some new bits didn’t explore the spaces and projects that exist for of information about this suggested new home. the art and the music and the writing that the resi- President McKinley was shot there. Rick James was dents of Buffalo and their friends are responsible for. buried there. That asshole that did the Cross-Bronx After two years of living here I’m sure I don’t have the Expressway destroyed a neighborhood or something whole picture, but I do have a much better idea. And there. High crime rate, one of the highest poverty what I like most is that this city is so many incredible rates, good art scene… whatever. I’ll get through the things in the face of being known mostly for its wings application and he’ll write me that letter. and snow and sports teams.

I began this process of appeasement, no problem. About a year making the move, with a life that looked But then, I got stuck. It was the statement of pur- entirely different and a completely new way of seeing pose I had to submit with my thesis. It had to in- this city and what was beyond it, I thought back on clude why I wanted to go to UB so badly. And even that day in his office. It was never his thick French though I tried to keep it theoretical at first, I actually accent that made him incomprehensible. I guess I began to think through why I would want to go to didn’t understand the sandbox because I wasn’t out school in Buffalo. What life in Buffalo would actual- of it yet. ly be like. So far, it seemed it was a place that (in my narrow view of the world that only involved look- ing at maps of New York State) seemed to be close to nothing (I now know where Toronto, Rochester, Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Detroit are, don’t worry), would naturally be cold and snowing year round (lake effect, duh) and intensely lonely (I knew no one that lived there, even peripherally, and the ‘city of good neighbors’ moniker seemed suspicious). But somehow that list of what seemed like reasons not to move somewhere became intensely attractive. Over- whelming so.

And six months later, I was living on West Ferry.

I won’t bore you with all the unexpected things that happened between then and now (except for the fact that I never attended graduate school), but as it turns out, Buffalo was not the place to go to be cold, desolate and alone. All the little bits of information I had gleaned before I arrived were not necessarily untrue, but created an image of this city that was incredibly underwhelming compared to the reality. The wikipedia page didn’t mention some of what I have come to find most energizing about this city— it didn’t mention our growing refugee population and their small businesses starting on the West Side;

25 My Mailbox

Emily Hackerson

When I first moved to West Ferry Street in Buffalo, ably far more than average, but three all at once was I spent a moment attending to my mailbox. It was a mini-marvel. More impressive yet was that not one a bit of an event for me, this little black box with of the letters came in a standard form; one friend delightful curled ends in the front hall. It appealed had folded and taped her envelope till I wasn’t quite to me for a number of reasons. First, I am irrevo- sure which end to open from, while another was cably in love with the art of sending letters. In mo- printed with Kipling-era jungle animals, elegantly ments of poorer judgment I envision myself making bordered by maroon stripes and a hand-pasted el- a career of opening a “Little Letter Store” where I ephant whose trunk pointed upward, announcing would do nothing but write letters for people who the opening flap. I sat on my front steps with the just couldn’t find the time—a sort of personal shop- small fortune of words in my lap and felt impossibly per for sentiment and salutations. In slow seasons I pleased. would write out quotes from forgotten books and send them off anonymously to unsuspecting mail- The letters struck me, not just for their honesty boxes around the world. It would be written up in and craft, but for the strange way in which they all the New York Times: The Little Letter Shop Inspires were somehow talking about the same thing: place. Peace and Productivity by Post. I should say that the letters were sent from three women whom I love but haven’t seen in some time. Second, having a mailbox, one that has my name One wandered its way to Buffalo from Ethiopia, one written across it in thick print, one that I can reach from the West Coast, while the last came from a my hand into every day, means I really live here. home, which had at one point felt like my own, in This is exciting for someone who has had enough Vermont. A web of thoughts all landing in Buffalo. addresses in her lifetime to map the scattered abodes of a small village. I feel as though I’m either con- Sometimes as I search to situate myself in this new stantly filing a change of address form, or calling city, I forget how often everyone else around me is friends or family to make sure a letter I was expect- also struggling to make sense of place and how to ing didn’t end up at their house, which may or may make it, keep it, reject or rejoice in it. The manifes- not have been at some point my house. Mostly, the tations of place are sometimes agonizingly diverse, affection I feel for my new mailbox is less about the wherein we find ourselves contending with the fact box and more about my wonder at having a per- that every place we go and everything we interact manent physical place of my own after 5 years of with is part of a growing record of experience that moving and traveling around different nooks of the can feel, depending on the moment, empowering or world. That little hunk of metal is my strange claim overwhelming, As one friend wrote: to place. I was then flooded by thoughts about how a place Today was a small victory for the Postal Service and can be so impossibly charged with meaning and a veritable joy-bomb for me: three letters greeted me expectation—even if/when you’ve never been there this morning as I ran out the door. I will say that I before. Then I thought about the scope of it, that a get a fair amount of mail that are not bills—prob- place can be the corner of a stairwell where you cried your eyes out, or the building where you had your

26 first job, or the country you’ve only seen on TV, or make; when the grass is gone you migrate in a sea of even the mental state you have to embrace to go to people and livestock to a mountain on the horizon- sleep at night. and I have said none of this well, none of this as I mean it—what am I doing here? This was a friend that had moved to the opposite side of the country believing that a change in place would help her find success in a career she loved. What she found is that even expectation is a place— * * * the space of wanting something to be a certain way and needing to believe it will be. I take these letters and stack them on my nightstand. Another friend just moved back home after years I have no idea what I will do with the growing pile, living and building a life in a different city. Her let- but I feel comfort in their companionship. They re- ter speaks to place in a different manner, in how we mind me during my more frustrated moments of manage to curate and upkeep a whole map of places living in Buffalo that sometimes it’s hard to have in our lives without feeling scattered. Yet there’s a faith in the process of experience, but it’s worth it. balance we crave between the different opportuni- I find more and more that “place” is really just the ties our diverse maps of place create and the need series of experiences we mediate, and something like to feel grounded, to have a claim to just one place. reading a letter about someone else wrestling with My friend calls it simplicity, while I call it having a experience reminds me not to worry so much about real mailbox: where I am at the moment, as one place so quickly As I will say again over and over, it is so strange for becomes another. my whole life to be in one place. It’s the first time in 9 years that all my stuff is at home and that I am not split between locations. So I think I am just basking in simplicity. Though even I have to admit being restless comes easily.

The last letter made me ache for all its familiar lan- guage of feeling lost and somehow completely at home in a foreign place. In the year I spent traveling through South America before moving to Buffalo I discovered there’s a certain ache associated with place and trying to find it in a different culture. There are moments, as my friend alluded to in a literal manner in her letter and which I use meta- phorically, wherein you feel yourself growing callus- es from all the work you must do to build yourself place in a new culture, language and geography. My friend is living with a tribe in Ethiopia, in a world many cannot even claim to be able to fathom, and for her finding place happens even amidst deep con- fusion over why she’s there:

…But can you understand that there is a world where one’s belongings do not exceed what a don- key can carry, there is nothing save for the metal of your machete you use that you do not know how to

27 gliding soul crystals

Evelyn Ihrke

Mags and I were just hanging out listening to Doug’s Elmwood at Bird and it looked quiet and then we album of Warren Zevon—something about that saw how great and snowy Elmwood still was, so we guy made everyone want to get out and go drink- skied right up the center most of the ten blocks to ing. It was a little early though for that, maybe all the bar. There was nothing but thick, compacted of eight—dark already for two hours—but from the tracks on the avenue, and almost zero brown sugar. bezeled windows we could see there was a beautiful Nothing to do but glide and move a bit for the few moonlight reflecting off the fluffy snowflakes. cars. Near the Universalist Church at Ferry we did have to get to the side, but that sidewalk up past Mags had a brainstorm—we could ski up to Jimmy the Crane Library was good—then we hit the street Mac’s! Hell Yeah! I had my skis upstairs in Atle and again for the next two blocks. Doug’s apartment. We were out in the flakes in ten minutes flat. Doug lamely didn’t have cross country They stared at us when we entered. There were skis so he promised to meet us around ten. I figured maybe only fifteen people at the bar at this time of I’d be on my second Irish Coffee by then. night. By the time we put our skis in the corner a few people at the bar had already raised a glass to Up Claremont we went—or maybe it’s down(?)— us. The bartender thought it was hilarious—I told we went south to Bird, left to Lincoln Parkway. him he could try my skis but I doubted he’d fit into The gorgeous quiet of the night offered an amaz- my size seven and a half boots so that wasn’t gonna ing universal sense of sweet perfection. Coming up happen. I told him he could rent at Campus Wheel- to Soldier’s Circle Mags is telling me about a boy- works and that raised an eyebrow. Ah yes—always friend at Alfred who traveled across campus skiing trying to encourage the natives to earn their alcohol through trees to see her. “Through trees? How high and enjoy the great snow. He said he’d try it some- were you?” I laugh. “No, she says, ‘Like this,” and day now that he could go rent right there and take she demonstrated how you ski on your left leg to them to Delaware Park. As expected we were two the tree, do a ballet move backwards to the other whiskeys (forgot to ask for the coffee part) into it side and ski through on your right leg. Hilarious! when Doug and crew arrived. The little tree she did this to was impressed too and giggled. It dropped a four inch high pile from its The route back was a crystal path down Richmond, upper branches right behind Mags. On a moonlit former back pastures of the mansions on Delaware, night the illusion is a perfect snow koan to whoever and a beautiful tree lined avenue of trees. Thank you is walking their dog. Frederick Law Olmsted!

We continued down Bidwell past the new Griffis sculpture—more people celebrating the snow— arms raised high and dancing... We were thinking about taking the sidewalks on Delaware, or Rich- mond uptown to Jimmy Mac’s but we had crossed

28 That dead dog

Alex Thayer

Everyone drinks on the patio at sunset in midsum- displace our memory of the whole incident. In an mer. Backs slunk against forest green chairs, some hour we forgot about it all, how the dog’s owner more comfortable than others, we expect very little. came running into the road to be torn away from re- Presently: craft beer, good company, appetites fro- ality, how he cried unrelentingly. Clutch your dead zen by a strong desire to tell stories—an imminent friend. Hold it like it still could be alive, I thought. feeling of complacency brought about by a mutual desire to relax. We are friends, relatively speaking, It was a small dog. Never had a chance, really. The with each other, those rigid chairs hoisting us up man breathed into its lungs like he could bring it with all of their might. back, knelt over it like a paramedic. No training needed to care about something that you love. Prob- One playful sentence, one broken act is all that sepa- ably carried the body back home to bury it in a shal- rates us from sorrow. The common pedestrian acci- low, damp hole. dent. That damn car, in the road where it belonged. That now dead dog, running into the street with a Remember where you put that dent in the dirt. Stab rich, uncalculated playfulness. two sticks into the mud, one for your loss, and one for the dog’s. Examine the greater meaning of it all. I would like to think that he (or she) died painlessly, Who is the selfish one? The playful animal for play- but who’s to say? Folded limbs, a crushed torso, ing in the wrong place, or the careless owner for sit- lifeless paws disappearing into a clump of mangled ting so close to the street? fur—all indicators of a truth that we all fail to ad- mit. If it happened fast enough, why should it mat- Truthfully, it’s hard to say. ter that it indeed did happen at all?

Those green chairs took on a different purpose, a different meaning entirely—welcome conduits to

29 three missed kisses

Curator, The Kissing Museum

I am convinced that the best spot to kiss, in Buffalo, off the path, toward one of trees, he let go just as is behind any drape of the myriad willow trees along we got under the canopy. I hinted how quiet and Hoyt Lake, in Delaware Park. I started visiting the romantic I thought the trees were. He kept his pace, park while I was a graduate student almost eight walking directly across the diameter, even though I years ago. I often picnic or read with friends under tried to stall a little. I tugged one strand of leaves, the slope of David or walk along the ring looking longingly, as I also exited that calm space, too soon. for fish and turtles sunning on the rocks… but I The experience was disappointing and confusing… mostly watch for people kissing. exactly like the rest of that relationship.

When I moved to Buffalo, my family and close I am still always excited and gleeful when I see friends were all convinced I would finally find some- patches of a blanket or human heaps under the wil- one “just like me.” The reality is, most days, it feels low trees. I know couples are sharing secrets and like my whole relationship history should be listed making promises! Did Olmsted intend to create a under Craigslist/Buffalo/Missed Connections. I’ve park with capsules perfectly suited for intimacy? had exactly two long-term relationships in Buffalo Folklore of willow trees often describe sitting be- which each lasted exactly six months. neath its boughs as a sacred space of contemplation or wisdom. Stories ensure that tears shed beneath I did visit the park with the first gentleman several the trees’ canopy will be wiped away and concerns times to walk and relax on the grass along the water’s will be lifted off your shoulders. Once you are un- edge; however, he never suggested we sit under—or der the canopy you feel a sense of undivided atten- even near—the willow trees. I will never know if it tion; there is a muting of the world outside, so your was a conscientious avoidance; he didn’t notice my thoughts and expressions of love exist safely within gaze pulling often toward the drooping canopies. the dome of gently leaves. It is as if each feathery leaf He also didn’t seem to be a fan of PDA—or maybe has sworn allegiance to cherish all they’ve heard and it was that he wasn’t much of a fan of me. witnessed under their wing.

Years later, with a second gentleman, I should have So, I do walk in the park, and scan the trees—with- sensed early on that the relationship was doomed out intruding—hoping there’s a couple beneath, when it took too much coaxing just to arrange a embracing or locked in a kiss. It thrills my heart to walk in the park. Finally, he agreed to walk around know someone is enjoying that intimate space, even the ring “just once” with me. As I pulled his hand if I have never.

30 PSTW

A.G.

I spent the better part of my undergraduate years at “Yeah… Yeah! We should!” Buffalo State. Hoyt Lake is by far my favorite place in Buffalo; it has been the backdrop for a slew of And that was enough. life’s events. Hoyt Lake was practically in my back- We immediately spun on our heels to return to the yard so it holds a number of memories for me. Some wall and inspect our canvas. We spent less than five are great, some are…not so great. My very first date minutes discussing our plans before we headed out in Buffalo was to see Shakespeare in the Park, and to get supplies. We weeded and painted well past a poignant break-up also happened there. An old midnight on a project which had come to be called roommate and I would often meet there to run “Project: Save the World” or PSTW. We walked a few laps and catch up. On warm nights during away with an absurdly bright “sunshine yellow” ce- freshman year, I’d sit on a hill with some of the ex- ment wall and a promise to return the next day. change students, talk about our cultures and forge new friendships. Sometimes I’d go there alone when The better part of that Saturday was spent painting I needed to cry. I tell you this because my emotional vines and flowers and whatever we thought would connection to this place is so strong and it is the be nice to look at. I can’t even tell you how many catalyst for the story below: people stopped with their kids or dogs or alone on their jog and asked what we were doing and if they It was 2008 and I was on a walk around the lake could help. Many offered to give us money when with a friend. We’d simultaneously spotted the art- they found out we were recent grads doing the proj- less graffiti on the cement dike near the smelly part ect on a dime and out of pure love. You could at- toward Delaware Avenue. The whole thing started tribute it to being in the “city of neighbors” but I with one of us offering a sarcastic “really??” and the like to believe they all held a deep-seated affection other just understood—we both loved this park. for that place as well. In the end, we left it with our Our conversation continued despite the interjection best attempt at artwork and a simple message: “Live for a minute or two. But then: Buffalo” or “Love Buffalo.” It’s entirely dependent “We should do something about that!” on how you see it.

Our pace suddenly slowed.

31 a high wind for kansas

Elise Blasingame

[Transcribed from my red work journal] sion on the chef’s face indicates some trepidation toward feeding the spoonful of god knows what to Dearest Quinoa, his unsuspecting guest. In the midst of a menial task, caught in some middle I still haven’t seen it. I’m always there for short pe- realm where all the better parts of my past converge, riods, and until obtaining membership status, had I realized I wanted you to know about the city. been relegated to the lower levels. In its gilded age, the city was home to nearly 60 The sculpture in the courtyard was always my mecca millionaires. This was the time of the Pan-American anyway. I tried to describe it and could only think of Exposition; the time when McKinley was shot and “bovine swirls.” You’ll see one day. Teddy Roosevelt assumed the role of President of the United States of America. Teddy, a man known Sometimes when I’m writing this, I’m at the hospi- for championing the construction of the Erie Ca- tal. In other moments, I sit in the airport terminal, nal and threatening the sovereignty of the Philip- coming or going, and watch the baggage handlers pines. The same period claims the early years of play basketball on the tarmac. I’m finding that de- Frank Lloyd Wright’s career. Three of his projects, spite my nomadic tendencies, there are elements of as well as countless collaborations with other giants my identity and community that have started to of architecture, pepper the landscape of the region. solidify. To the north of Elmwood, a neighborhood of trat- torias, bars and locally owned businesses, lies Dela- Though it’s not a selling point, I think you should ware Park. It was designed by Olmsted, the man be- know about Dyngus Day. The Polish population in hind inexplicable wonder of Central Park. Pathways the city celebrates their cultural identity every year weave through the grass patches, flower beds and by dancing to techno polka, drinking beer and eat- playing fields leading to rocks, tree clumps and me- ing sausage. To distinguish themselves from other andering bodies of water. Nestled between the park cream European folks, the women chase the men and Elmwood Village is the Albright-Knox. It is the around with pussy willow branches. I took my best sixth oldest art gallery in the country. It is known for compadre to Central Terminal to witness just such having one of everything--truly a diverse collection an occasion. While the festivities were mild if not of classical and contemporary masters. pathetic, the building is a beacon in its post-apoca- lyptic glory. A mammoth train station, stranded in “Have you seen the cardinal?” Sarah asked me. the middle of a forgotten neighborhood, waits for rehabilitation. In the meantime, fine art majors use We were on our first real date, even though I’d al- it for their thesis projects. Off-beat brides gather for ready slept over once and kissed her on the neck at photos in front of burned out windows and crum- the end of a bar on a Wednesday. bling tiles. I hadn’t seen it. The painting, as she described it, is a Rick James is a native. comical interaction between a cardinal cooking din- ner and a man about to eat. Apparently, the expres- MC Hammer was seen three weeks ago entering

32 Erie County Medical Center. Anyway, don’t waste your time with Brooklyn. You can buy an abandoned city-owned house for a I dreamt that I sent you all a batch of pot brownies. dollar. Just don’t be surprised. Sometimes the unexpected consequences of lucid dreaming involve a bit of I recently moved to my own space, away from co- difficulty in distinguishing thoughts from reality. workers and toward a house on Atlantic Avenue. Sometimes I work in my sleep and then wake up I occupy two adjacent rooms on the third floor: a only to work some more. Often I dream of you. bedroom and studio. When I moved my belongings from Brooklyn I had to drive 7 hours back to the I suppose what I wanted you to know is this: city. I switched rental cars at the airport and went to Wal-Mart to buy painters tape. I had purchased You can drink a gallon of beer for a nickel. 3 buckets of latex paint in Peacock Blue, Granny My roots seem to be sinking. Smith and Moonstone Chalkboard. I painted all night and into the early hours of Monday. My entire Lets get in a hammock and catch up. body was blue. It took two coats. I don’t really waste my time with Brooklyn anymore. Yours, We moved into a former crackhouse in south Bush- wick two weeks ago. Sometimes you might find Cumin yourself holding onto your kittens for body warmth in a half-constructed room with no walls or ceiling.

There, back

Rachelle Toarmino

1. the forced theres, keys left on the dresser, coffee cold in two mugs on the floor. The somber backs, but Spring: four minutes there, seven minutes back. eager backs, feet drawn four hundred yards, feet re- Winter: five minutes there, six minutes back. Two lieved on three stairs to the door. Two years, two blocks, four hundred yards, two intersections, one blocks. All the theres and the backs. all-way stop, one traffic light. The disparate catcalls, the walks of shame and glory, the late-night drunk- en stumbles, the still-drunk morning stumbles. The three-minute preoccupied theres, the exultant and 2. observant six-minute theres. The seven-minute ac- It’s a wind tunnel there and back, but the wind companied and engaged backs, the four-minute sol- doesn’t always whine and whisk. There are church itary and introspective backs. The reluctant theres, bells, the rhythm of running shoes, light traffic at

33 20 mph, and often cold, bemused birds. There’s “Yeah. This you?” the murmur of people in the park—dads and dude bros playing frisbee, couples arguing on blankets, “Yeah. See ya tomorrow. Bike safe.” and barking dogs, there are always dogs. There’s the bustling of the farmer’s market, and Tuesday jazz nights in the summer. Children laughing in the yard 5. of St. John’s Grace. The whiz of bicycle wheels, the crunch of snowy footsteps, flip-flops against warm You start at the big red door. You’re greeted by the concrete. The occasional honk, shout, or welcomed park – yellow in the summer, green in the fall, gray good morning. And to myself, whatever stream is in in the winter, and brown in the spring. The trees my head, but at night like a prayer, please don’t mug stand in four rows, planted diagonally like theater me, please don’t mug me, please don’t mug me. seats. There, past parked cars with orange tickets tucked into windshields, the park is to the left. Past the cunty dogs in their fenced-in yard on the corner of Ashland. Past the stop for the 26. At the corner, 3. you press the button, wait for the light, and cross to A dead potted plant sits on the porch and it is hardly the big glass door. You’re there and then you leave. seen anymore. It’s an ugly thing, a spindly skeleton Back, past ants fighting over candy in sidewalk in shades of gray and beige. It gently overflows its cracks, the park is to the right. Past the McGarrett’s pot down a flight of three steps like the aged hair of smoking patio. Past the dude bros on the second- a neglected Rapunzel. Its unglazed clay pot is often floor balcony on the corner of Delavan. You end at mistaken for an oversized ashtray. It is as familiar the big red door, back. to you as the face of a friend whose features you no longer see in lieu of recognizing the whole. It stays seated, every day, on your every there and back, but you don’t seem to see it anymore.

4.

“So she goes, ‘It should be back there for me. My daughter called and put it on hold three weeks ago. It’ll either be under Cheryl, Natalie, Jackie, or Paul. It had an orange-ish, red-ish, maybe brown-ish red- ish cover, I think?’ and then tells me to hold on for five minutes while she calls her daughter.”

“Okay, that’s nothing. I had a guy ask me if we had a Mitch Albom section today. Like, why yes sir, let me show you right where we keep this critically ac- claimed author, he’s got the whole shelf to himself.”

“Oh man. Well, at least you didn’t have a kid ask you if we carried For whom the Bell Told today.”

“Ouch.”

34 FLOORPLAN

Lisa Brown

I. Memories of men live in the ends of the hair lather, rinse, repeat don’t miss any spots, not even while the water level crawls higher up your feet to your calves These pipes are old landlord is explaining crouching they’ve got years of other peoples’ stuff accumulated in them clinging to their metal insides your hippie recipes just won’t do to break that stuff up Down goes the toxic green goo Vinegar and baking soda were so much more spectacular

The next time I shower my feet are steeping in toxins dead skin and other people’s exes

II. Sitz Bones Sitz Bones Thats what my modern dance professor calls them This futon really hurts my Sitz bones, Tom How does one dream on such a thing

III. Rectangular and spare Playing archivist for this room keeping books on who’s come and gone

35 IV. Turning the knob I am nervous White, fluffy neatness inside like getting caught in mother’s underwear drawer

V. The cayenne has spilt all over the floor Blend it in to the tiles’ wild pattern

Red feet tomorrow

VI.

Someone has come in Jars on the mantle jingle with every step alarming in my half-sleep and challenging me to hold my breath not visible obstructed by the couch floral camouflage

I watch the tops of trees sway beside stiff fire escapes and grit teeth to the sound of murderous barking from tiny wiener dogs below my heavy limbs

The streetlamp, omniscient witnesses cigarettes and quarrels and interactions of the romantic sort knows of time spent in bed for unreasonable hours I’m almost sure that if it could type it would send my mother a concerned email

Dear Christine, Please speak to your daughter about what happened on the porch last Wednesday. Also, about all of the empty drinking glasses.

Sincerely, Streetlamp But instead it just buzzes Flickering intermittently over me in my place

36 April 2007

Elizabeth Padgett

Walking home from class in the rain, like characters in an action movie: I catch a glimpse of bright orange in Forest Lawn. “Quick, behind this tree! A car knocked down a four-foot section ...All clear? of pointed wrought-iron fence, now replaced GO GO GO!!!” with flimsy orange plastic. Breathless and laughing Back at the dorm, I announce, we stumble back to our dorm, “Hey, we could break into the cemetery now!” eager to regale our roommates with tales We have been talking about it for years. of how very rebellious we are. My roommates, however, prefer to stay warm and dry indoors. Around 2 a.m., Amanda has finished her work, still hopped up on coffee, and says she’s up for it. We pile on layers of old clothes, grab a camera and a flashlight, and set out into the drizzly night. When the coast is clear, we hop easily over that plastic fence and run and duck behind trees until we’re out of sight of the street. Suddenly, it’s peaceful. The night is thick and quiet, the ducks asleep, the Scajaquada Creek burbling mildly. We try to take pictures of ourselves to prove WE WERE HERE, but it’s so dark the only way we can do it is to climb up on a hill and capture our silhouettes against the sky. Eventually we escape the way we’ve come,

37 Blue Monk

Solomon Dixon

Thursday Nights I go to open mic at Merge Only brave danced.

The last Saturday of the month I break dance at Jenn gyrated. Taylor twisted, Stacy styled, and I was Verve still bugged out.

The third Sunday of every month there is swing Coke Escovedo sang from the speakers, “I wouldn’t dancing at the Hamlin House change a thing if I had to live my life all over.” I looked up and gave a nod of appreciation to the DJs And every Monday something special happens at because that song says what I feel about this life, and Blue Monk it made the people dance. As we went deeper into the night James Brown’s “Get Up Off That Thang” Sometimes my friends go with me played. So the dancers appropriately began grabbing people and bringing them to the dance floor. That’s Sometimes I go alone when it happened. I watched him go from hope- less to hope-filled. He got up and started moving Never leave that way though his massive body to the music the best way he knew how. There were so many people dancing I couldn’t I’m in love with this city even see Jenn, Taylor or Stacy. So I closed my eyes and I danced the night to day. Monday night I went to Blue Monk with the usual As the night ended, as they all do, the euphoria be- crew: Stacy, LoPro, Cutler, Jenn, and Taylor. DJ gan to fade. I needed to leave so I could hold that Cutler and LoPro on the ones and twos, this is El- night in my memory. I made my rounds and gave mwood not Chippewa so there was only funk to be my goodbyes but when I came to him, he cried. He heard. Jenn gyrated, Taylor twisted, Stacy styled, leaned closely to me so I could hear him over the and I was bugged out. We were all deeply in tune music, with the night. “Thank you guys. You don’t know what this night And then I saw him, slumped over at the bar, and did for me.” He said while squeezing my hand. “I completely out of place. He was a bigger guy; wore had such a bad day just wanted have a beer before a black hoodie, black pants, and a weary face. Now, I went home and you guys… Thank you.” He con- usually I say hi to everyone, but I passed on him. I tinued. didn’t pass out of fear. I passed out of respect. This man had possibly hit an all-time low, so it seemed. These are memories worth having, memories paint- He had no idea that this was not the bar for a beer ed with the colorful people in this city. I remember and silent reflection, at least till now. telling Stacy about this guy as we walked to the car.

The music played. “I’m glad I came out tonight. Man, I love Buffalo.” I concluded. The bar filled up.

38 thoughts on world aids day

Elise Blasingame

They are banners more than anything. Usually the but they didn’t use a condom. colors are primary; the edging in glitter. Photos from the ‘80s, superimposed over t-shirts and cor- When the clinic lost his records, he demanded that porate logos. It’s funny how much people take in we drive to the county testing site to make sure.The their occupations as identity; it becomes who they rapid test is 80% effective. It came back negative. are. “Arby’s Accountant.” “Too soon. Peter and John, Forever.”

“I miss you Joey” “Andrew: The Wind Beneath our The first time I thought I had AIDS was when my Wings” “Stacy, may you always be remembered” uncle lived with us. He has been HIV positive for Some seem unfinished. “This quilt was made by years. He drinks like a fish and people often won- her sorority, Gamma Kappa Sig, 1997” You get the der how he has avoided transitioning into AIDS. feeling they knew nothing about her, since the only Sometimes he will call my mother and point out her piece of information on the quilt is, “here is anna flaws, both imagined and well accepted. I used his and her three daughters,” represented by tulips in razor a few times to shave my legs, and cut myself pastels. each time. “What if he cut his face, and the blood Tacky, really. was on the razor, and then I cut my legs, and the blood got into my blood?” I never used it after the I remember the second time I thought I might second time. I was terrified. I didn’t know what have AIDS. I was dating my first real, fucked up, AIDS meant, but I could feel how solemn people this is everything, boyfriend (I choose to say ‘part- became when they discussed it. ner’ now when describing my boo, but really, this guy was never a partner, he was a boyfriend). It was “You’ll always be my baby, love Edy” our freshman year. We had already had sex about It was World AIDS Day on Thursday. To celebrate 5 times. I remember it was 5, because he wrote a the living; to remember the dead. poem about it (the AIDS scare, not the number of times we had sex). After the 5th time, I had sug- I stood in the museum hallway, staring at banners gested we get tested. I have the best of intentions, from families and friends. It looked like some high but I’ve always been really bad about testing. I tell school art show. I cried enough to make my throat everyone about the virtues of tests, but mine always hurt, but not enough to make anyone notice. come after I’ve already increased my risk. “Carla, your father loves you, 2001” Anyway, right before Thanksgiving when the snow was starting to fall, but it wasn’t quite cold enough Banners, quilts, tshirts, blankets, signs, memories. for it to stick, we decided to get tested. His re- Sitting in the museum hallway, posted on black sults came back inconclusive. Then they got lost. walls. Waiting for people to remember them. I remember he was dead set that some 30-year-old Tucked away in the temporary gallery. No one goes woman had given him aids in high school. He was a upstairs anymore. lifeguard, and her son swam at his pool. It was once,

39 I had been to the gallery months ago for a book club meeting. The Burchfield-Penney Book Club. They had finished reading City On The Edge, by Mark Goldman. This was in the height of my Buffalo his- tory fixation. It’s not completely gone, but it was much more ferocious then. I sat at a board room table surrounded by docents in their ‘60s, blue- haired ladies from the second wave of feminism. We never talked about the book. They fought each other for airtime, and spoke about former politicians and crooks of queen city.

Spaces transform based on the occupants. I try to keep that in mind, so I don’t become attached.

“angela, your love transcends time, 2011”

40 North Buffalo

41 STeelawanna

Patrick Riedy it begins with fire and ends in steel the process of creating, feel KEN-TON not blood or sweat copper sky but rust mixed cigarettes. coca-cola bottling site enter through gate eight, leave a different date. rain reflects white & red

poor nights like these we’re poor so pretty we get by she said each day between the rail and the train hiding behind we live, dividing lines each day. lies live when we ride in each eye bored aboard silent short nights no need she will not let me in for many words look outside don’t sleep space and time keep driving side by side passing by more than the now instead more than cold, than the snow— comfort; the know.

42 Gordon’s

Alex Berkley

Real names have been changed to more fun names. comparing their brackets.

When the games started, we started debating wheth- er or not John McCain was, in fact, the Devil. Teddy It was a bright but cold afternoon. Me and my bud- was quite convinced the old bastard was an alright dies, Bozo the Clown and Teddy Ruxpin, had just guy, but he wasn’t fooling me or Bozo. Pretty soon, wrapped up browsing every CD at New World Re- in walked Baloo the Bear, who just so happened to cord and we decided to mosey on down Delaware to be in the neighborhood. He took off his headphones Gordon’s for a couple of pints and popcorn, as well and we exchanged hellos. I asked what he was lis- as to catch a little bit of the early rounds of March tening to and he told me it was a podcast called Madness. I had purchased Pet Sounds, a Joanna Radiolab. He told me about the story they were tell- Newsom album, and a Sun Kil Moon album that I ing, perhaps about a scientist studying a snake or already had (I had an addiction and New World was something...I mean, every episode of Radiolab has closing soon so I had to buy up as much as I could). scientists and snakes, don’t they? Of course, it was Bozo’s idea to get beer, and of course after Teddy and I had bought our beers, Bozo Baloo and Teddy got talking more about politics got something ridiculously girly and non-alcoholic. while Bozo and I started discussing an upcoming concert. We were always playing shows back in The three of us were in bad shape, emotionally those days, at Soundlab, Mohawk, Merlin’s, and this speaking. Bozo had broken up with his lying cheat- next show was at Nietzsche’s. Baloo said he wanted ing girlfriend some time ago, Teddy desperately to go check out the sale at New World, so we left wanted to break up with his, and I had not been Gordon’s and Bozo and I got a good head start on in a relationship for nearly three years. Things were Baloo and Teddy. I told Bozo about this idea I had looking up though, at least for me. The night before, for the show, where in between songs I would throw me, Bozo, Teddy, and our good friend Steve Irwin candy and cigarettes into the crowd. We had a good had been out at Mr. Goodbar and we started playing laugh about it, then decided it was something I ab- pool with this gorgeous lesbian and her male friend solutely had to do. We were laughing and talking who probably did some modeling for Old Navy. so loudly and enthusiastically that we didn’t notice Having no sexual prospects with this lesbian, I had when the yelling behind us began. no qualms telling her how pretty she was. She acted very flattered and as the two of them were leaving, Baloo was screaming at Teddy, and I started to laugh she wrote down her number and handed it to me, because I was sure that they were kidding. See, in saying, “You should call me.” It suddenly occurred the six months since I had moved to Buffalo, I had to me that maybe she had been joking about her never seen either of them truly upset about any- sexual orientation. I told Steve Irwin what had hap- thing. But now I saw real rage in Baloo as he yelled pened and he said she was definitely joking, and I obscenities at the nonchalant Teddy Ruxpin, who trust Steve more than just about anybody. This was seemed to think he had done no wrong. I found out of course fresh on my mind as we sat down at a ta- later that he had told Baloo that his entire Buff State ble in Gordon’s, listening to the frat boys at the bar education was a waste and that he should have gone

43 to UB, which infuriated Baloo because it was too it occurred to me that the jobs were temporary and late, it was too critical, there was no reason for the unwanted, the books were unread, and the songs comment, and Teddy always made these insensitive went unheard. Was the drinking the only thing that comments without remorse. remained real?

In a heartbeat my whole vision of Buffalo was shat- And when I asked myself that question, I thought, tered. This city had seemed so utopian to me when “Well, that works!” I first arrived. It was where young people got part time jobs at Mighty Taco or Spot and spent the rest Baloo and Teddy made peace. Bozo and I bought of their time reading fascinating books from Rust tons of CDs from New World. I met the love of my Belt, piled high on every surface of the apartment, life, who had no ambiguity about her sexual prefer- recording hours worth of songs on four-track re- ence, at McGarrett’s. The Summer was blissful and corders, drinking 22oz. Labatt cans from Wilson sweetened by Taco Tuesdays and a miraculous num- Farms, smoking terrible flavored cigars, and having ber of 40s and cheap whiskey shots... endless discussions about politics, philosophy, and how fucking amazing Kid A is and why. Suddenly

44 My Parking Lot

Candace Camuglia

My parking lot is the wild, untamed bushland of through. Cars pass you in both directions as if on suburbia, wide, paved plane trenched between four safari. I’m the asphalt lion they slow down to pass intersections. My parking lot is the wild asphalt flat- but never stop for. land where cars creep and sleep, where most people It takes ten minutes to cross my parking lot by foot, dare not tread. Not many span the entire lot and with different obstacles for each season. In the sum- the few that do don’t acknowledge each other; we mer, I track the hours to remain aware of where my all hang our heads to avoid eye contact with poten- shadows will be, where I’ll be able to seek protection tial predators and cross the lot in silence. There’s a from the harsh future sun. One summer I traversed lifetime’s worth of refuse trapped in this space, un- the opposite coast in search of better protection. touched by those who clean the places that people I found its unfamiliarity unpleasant and the new go. Nobody ever goes back there, so nobody re- road generally inefficient, so I photographed it as if moves the debris and it just travels with the wind to it were a country I may not ever see again. I swear be trapped like wild birds in the chain link fence on the sun was brighter there, and the lines in the road the lot’s northern coast. were more blinding. They were a tall grass to which My journey begins as I am dumped out onto a side- my eye was unaccustomed. walk before a sea of parked cars, like the smallest ant In the winter, the land is so clean and white, but that in a patch of the most cantankerous zoysiagrass. I which bleaches my parking lot inflates the muscles almost always enter the lot by passing under a pair of that let us cross what has turned into a suburban kissing side-view mirrors from the first two parked tundra. Once the winter dimension has fallen, a cars I see and continue to weave through the maze new route must be established around glaciers built of sleeping machinery. Eventually, I’m led by a small by plows and patches of ice polished by the gentle path lined with small domesticated trees around the morning sun. Those who must and those who dare structure my parking lot was built to serve and the are then forced to trudge through the wild plains of thick forest of the populated lot unexpectedly opens snow, carving out clear paths of struggle from Elm- up. Suddenly I’m walking across rolling blacktop wood to Delaware. plains, forgotten space tucked away by the back walls of various buildings. Just as suddenly as I came upon the eye of the lot, I lose it and again I must navigate around live and Overturned shopping carts litter the most deso- dead metal to wash up on the sidewalk shore. I late parts of the lot, abandoned like shipwrecks. I once concluded a tale of an experience I had road- imagine that if the seas of the Bermuda Triangle tripping in New England with “every time I go were drained, this is what it might look like. In the somewhere beautiful and I look over the edge, it’s winter, the carts remain stationary, often becoming a parking lot,” and the room burst out in laughter lodged in nearby snow reefs, creating a plastic island while I silently mourned the loss of those bits of the among the black rock sea or it’s rendition of the original universe. Now the parking lots have won, exploding kayak art statue. They come alive in the and they want not my sympathy, but my soul. I am summertime though, and they skate the lot like a here, a creature of the wilderness that has beckoned roller rink, remaining within the assigned perimeter, me from just over the edge. but in a new pose and position each time you pass

45 OLD CITY & Lackawanna

46 White Deer of the Old First Ward

Brien Puff

For me, Buffalo is the middle of nowhere, a lonely we set out not knowing what we’d find or where we’d outpost on the very outskirts of civilization. It’s an oa- end up. It was a bright, beautiful afternoon, and the sis. Floating between the nothingness of I-90 between Buffalo sun shone down intensely to the point that Exit 49 and Syracuse (a drive that takes a man straight Clay made me close my sunroof. The world was our to insanity if he lets it) and the wine country to the oyster, and 33 was the doorway to a long afternoon southwest, it has a sense of freedom to it, one that of sightseeing. says anything goes in this dying industrial town. It’s self-contained, and the people that come see it only I first took him to explore a bit of downtown, then as a sign on the way to the Falls. What I’m trying to around the harbor and arena area, and we worked say, rather inelegantly, is that no one wants to go to our way out to the Central Terminal. Driving down Buffalo. This may seem like a complaint, but really, William Street, we lamented how parts of the city it’s not...at least, not entirely. had fallen nearly to ruin. I expressed my conviction that the buildings could be beautiful if they were only I was surprised during the summer of my second year renovated. Clay, glancing between old, solitary brick in the area when a college friend of mine drove in for buildings that used to be stores and probably once a visit. I mean, he told me he was coming—he didn’t had windows, wasn’t so sure about that. From there, just show up—but more surprisingly he wanted to we backtracked to the harbor and crossed the old iron come and see the city. My little, laughed-at city. No bridge over the river so we could drive around by the one ever did. This, though, this really meant some- General Mills plant. (It smelled like Cheerios that thing. He wanted to come hang out for a few days day.) We ducked down towards Tifft and ran around and check out the area. Oh, the joy I felt. its tiny hills for a while. Then it was time for the Old First Ward. It may not sound too exciting to any lo- So we made our plans, and in August, he finally was cal, but for us, it was—not a thrill, but a good time. able to make it out to Buffalo. We did all the top tour- isty things that the city has to offer, by which I mean I had never been in the Ward, so I had no idea what Niagara Falls. Back within the city limits, I took him to expect. This was evident by the fact that I brought to the City Hall observation deck (possibly my favor- my car face to face with the dozens of railroad tracks ite place ever), the Anchor Bar (always better than laid in the asphalt. I really don’t know how the rig I expect), Ted’s (of course), the Pearl Street Brewery drivers do it there, but hey, more power to them. (there’s a theme here, I can sense it). We stumbled across some gems too, like the Tifft Nature Preserve Louisiana to South to Hamburg Street. Right on and Broderick Park. It was a grand time. O’Connell. Clay was directing me which way to go. The end of each block held a different choice, just Back when Clay and I were in college, one of our fa- like those old maze games in the early days of the vorite pastimes was to go driving in the vast country- internet. Do we go left on Katherine? Or do we go side surrounding our tiny school, and since exploring right? Maybe straight, through the intersection and great stretches of empty spaces was one of our favorite to the curve? Looking out his window, Clay chose things, naturally a drive around Buffalo was neces- the right. Thrilling adventure lay ahead as I exhilarat- sary. As usually happened on one of these journeys, ingly signaled and made a slow and careful turn.

47 Heading south toward the dead end on Katherine, inching forward in my car. He didn’t seem bothered the road got a little choppy, and the rails didn’t help. by us; it picked at the ground as it moved. Someone That was fine, my car had once handled a seasonal poetic could have drawn a good metaphor from see- dirt road through a farm in central New York , it ing it—probably something about this ghostly white could handle this. We passed the National Tractor animal haunting the area where there used to be so Trailer School, where a lone student sat in the cab of much industry—but I don’t know if I’m the one to a rig in the parking lot (I hope he got an A). On the do so without many more hours of thought. So I’ll opposite side of the road, we passed a fenced-in lot just throw in the phrase “think about it: genetic mu- full of tanks of some sort. We had no idea what was in tation?” and a coy shrug that continues “no really, them, but it recalled memories of a video we once saw think about it.” on tv of dozens of gas tanks exploding, so we loved it. It might be worth noting that it doesn’t take much to My car struggled briefly trying to get over the bump entertain us. of the rails, but we made it. Clay and I were totally silent as we pulled parallel to the albino buck, drink- As we approached the Irish Propane Corporation, ap- ing it in. The animal now made its way further into propriately nestled in the lush greenery of this tiny the brush next to the road. Everything about it but peninsula jutting into the Buffalo River, the road its black eyes and nose was perfectly white, even its started to become oddly overrun with nature. We small antlers were pale. Somehow, we were able to didn’t really know the lay of the land, but quickly, the snap some pictures of it as it grazed while still keep- buildings thinned out and trees took over—or, at the ing an eye on us. We were making as few movements very least, the buildings became hidden by the onset and as little noise as possible, hoping that we wouldn’t of plants. The old, worn silo of another type of plant, scare it away. I suppose, passed us by as we bounced over another track crossing. The Cargill silos poked up in the near We scared it away. Or, I guess more accurately, it lost distance. Up ahead, there was another, a final crossing interest in us and wandered off. before the road ended. But there was something on it. But while driving away and for weeks later, I’d recall I slowed the car down to a crawl, or perhaps I stopped. what happened, and I’m convinced I could never see I don’t really recall. Despite staring at it, it took me that in a larger city or one that was thriving. Maybe a few seconds to comprehend that, yes, I was defi- it’s my own delusions since I truly do love Buffalo for nitely seeing something, and then, yes, I understood all the reasons people make fun of it, but in a place its shape. It was a deer. But it was entirely white. with more people, more reasons to drive around, more bustling industry, I don’t know if I could have I stared quizzically for a moment. The first thought ever seen something like that. that entered my head once I established it was a real sight was, “Who would put that on the railroad Only later did I learn about the Seneca white deer tracks?” The only reality my brain could fall back whose habitat is so relatively close to the city, down on—since this was a bright white deer—was that the emptiness of 90, but in a way I want to pretend it it was a statue or gigantic lawn ornament of some could only happen in this city. It could be that things sort (I can’t explain the way my brain thinks). Then like this happen here because no one visits, not even it moved. wandering wildlife. Awesome things happen in Buf- falo, but outsiders cut themselves off from it and no Clay noticed it after I did, although I’m not too sure one knows about what happens behind the snow and how long after. Time slowed as I tried to piece to- misfortune and bad football. I’m happy to spread that gether what was going on. It’s an albino deer? Albino secret, though, even if no one believes me. deer are a thing? Yes, they must be a thing, of course they’re a thing. The buck noticed us. It started to move slowly toward the woods, and we responded by

48 The City’s Been Down

Mike Torsell

It was either May or June, I am not entirely sure, but ing Jacket’s set. Looking back, that might have been a I remember that it was warm enough to hop on my mistake. However, I remember the party being pretty bike and ride with some friends downtown. None cool so who is to say in the end? of us were really sure what we were going to do that night, but figured there was enough going on that * * * we could figure something out. They were having a I went to the first Smiths v. Cure dance party with dance party at Mohawk Place, so we stopped there some friends in 2004. I somehow thought a sweater but did not want to pay the cover. We rode a little vest and a poorly tailored corduroy blazer from Am- ways and bought forties. Riding back, we went to vets was a good idea. Instead, I looked like a wayward the top of the parking garage adjacent to Mohawk teacher out for a night of fun on the town. I ended and watched the people mill in and out of the dance up standing in a corner feeling really out of place the party while goofing off with some street chalk one of entire night. I had a much better time when I went us had come across that day. The sky was clear that five years later, dressed pretty plainly. Also, I want to night. My friend and I raced down the ramp and I note that I have since bought a better fitting corduroy remember that being some of the most fun I ever had blazer as well. up until that point. I couldn’t tell you why. * * * * * * There are some places you just assume will be around In 2001 or 2002, having just started college or my as long as you are, or at least until you stop paying at- senior year of high school (I can never remember tention to them. You assume this because you some- which), I went to see The Dismemberment Plan in times forget that time passes. So, when those places a small bar downtown, Mohawk Place. I had never disappear, you are suddenly confronted with the fact been to such a small venue(this was before they added that a considerable amount of time (11 years) has the bigger stage) or even a bar for that matter. None- passed since you first went there. As I think about theless, I was excited to see my favorite band. Look- the fact that Mohawk Place closed, I think about all ing back, I couldn’t tell you much about the show (it of the things that have happened during the last 11 was 11 years ago) but I can tell you that I stood there years and all of the amazing shows I saw there. In in awe, suddenly aware that I may only be able to find retrospect, those shows shaped me as a person and as anything close to transcendence at a concert. a music fan. I think about the friends, new and old, who I have shared those experiences with, and where * * * they are and how they have changed during that time A year later (2003), after they remodeled, I saw Burn- period. In the end, you realize that a lot can happen ing Brides open for My Morning Jacket. This was in one place and that it is a real shame to see it go. before My Morning Jacket started selling out venues. However, things change regardless of how you feel I had no clue who they were though, they just had re- about them and without any concern for your con- ally long hair and beards, which I thought was kind of nection to them. Places, like people, come and go but odd. I was there to see Burning Brides, so my friends sometimes, not without leaving their mark. and I left to go to a party about 1/4 into My Morn-

49 Concerning The Fragmented Perceptions of The Old First Ward and Encountering Its Heartbreak At A Slower Velocity

Tom Dennis

There is no industrial landscape more dolefully pic- Taking this corridor into the city will often conjure turesque than the befuddled eastern shoulder of up inclinations of disgust and curiosity for both visi- Lake Erie just south of downtown Buffalo, known tors and locals, and questions exhaled from tired lips as the Old First Ward. As far as first impressions often go unanswered. Where is our surface boule- go—especially if you’re entering the city via I-190 vard? Where is our downtown NFL Stadium? What N or State Route 5—Buffalo’s is quite difficult to of an Environmental Impact Survey? What of a wa- vanquish as you bypass the once bustling respiratory terfront plan? Where is our Stanley Cup? system of the second largest city in New York State. Even though it is Buffalo’s fate to bear the brunt of Driving atop the ribbon of concrete known as the its ever-growing cast of critics and naysayers, the Skyway, the General Mills factory can be seen. The people that dwell below the shadowy silos have re- white and emerald beacon stands tall among fallen mained shinning disciples in their abundant loyalty peers that once teamed to champion world rankings to their home. Even if they haven’t seen Vincent in grain refinement, while sodden neighborhoods of Gallo’s Buffalo ’66, many people might imagine a blue-collar melancholia huddle closely for warmth 90s-era Zenith TV and Lay-Z-Boy recliner bolted on streets named Ohio, Michigan, and Louisiana. to the floor of each and every South Buffalo liv- In its drunken, and ill-conceived pageantry, the ing room, as hand-crafted Bills relics and Irish- bridgeway wraps its embanked legs and torso 110 Catholic crucifixes are carefully curated and affixed feet above a now vacant (and inaccessible) outer to the yellowed walls. And yet, every shallow issue harbor, winding past a modest hockey arena, and of prejudice taken up with the area, in the end, is clumsily forking its way by a revitalized Navy Park. for naught, for these homes are the mitochondrial Autos cross nimbly on tip toes, as to not wake the storehouses of the overworked and underpaid. Prid- dingy giant from its industrial coma. ing themselves on a long-winded history of steward-

50 ship and traditionalism, the aura of the Old First Inside an old grain elevator I have climbed and Ward feels strangely unchanged since the mid-70s as laughed my way to a summit, opening doorways both Friday nights at the Swannie House and Sun- that said ‘KEEP SHUT’ and ‘DANGER’. I have day morning mass at St. Clare have probably drawn been spooked by the gargle of ghostly machinery the same throng of faces since their inception. and vanished into dark corners. From the top floor I have seen a view reminiscent of what men have However vital or fair first impressions are, under sometimes thought they’ve seen. the microscopic lens of tolerance and curiosity, this discarded section of the city has remained most I have flung myself to the precipice of the industrial stimulating to me. In its ruins, I have found solace, clump and learned that there is no greater tragedy and in its misgivings I have been granted the most than to kill yourself for something that was already mystical and clairvoyant of beatitudes. Each time dead. To gaze over a perfectly mapped city in real I’ve found myself either invading or bypassing the time is overwhelmingly omniscient and irrevocably sub-metropolis, I’ve experienced both beautiful and heartbreaking. Especially when that city has ad- terrible images of renewal, history, oversight, and dressed its hundreds of learned apothecaries with abandonment. Sure, we can inquire about afore- wounds that will never heal in a million years. mentioned grievances as we tear through numer- ous unappraised neighborhoods at 65 MPH, but at such high speeds one can only hope to entertain the prudence that such a force of entropy can potential award and withstand. In fact, it is not so uncommon that we find enlightenment in these most unexam- ined places.

* * *

I have kayaked down the Buffalo River, the wind- ing watershed and industrial artery to the huddle of silos. The experience wields a faint psychedelia, as towering honey-combs form tall, shadowy door- ways of rust and decay. I have felt like what I imag- ine a blood cell in an animal feels like a second after it has died. The water is still warm here, but without the beat of fabrication and shipping, the river sets out in the sun to become a gel, a puddle, a portal, a memory.

I have climbed into one factory shell as a nostalgic parasite; tunneling through manufactured caverns as my imagination feeds off the copious amounts of dead matter that are clusters of bricks, foundations reduced to anthills, crumbs of glass and mortar, rusted scaffolds of steel, abyssal elevator shafts, and wilderness coming into its own, as small trees and weeds sprout up through fractured loading docks near the river.

51 “...a little short of madness.”

T.M. Conroy

I grew up in Central New York, our family home create some mega-sprawling Suburbanapolis. But not even ¼ mile from a vestigial section of the Erie somewhere on that drive into Buffalo, and sadly I Canal. The canal did not mean much to me in my can’t even say for sure which roadway I was on or childhood, more a nuisance than valuable really, where I was on that roadway, there appeared to me with the distance between bridges being about 2 something amazingly grand, rising up and com- miles. Apart from some hockey, I paid it nearly no manding my gaze. Eyes back on traffic, but then attention, except to recognize the barrier it some- back to the striking structure. Repeat, repeatedly. times represented. It did, however, still infuse some What was that building?? Whoa—brake lights— history and nostalgia in the small town, with es- change lanes! What is that building?? tablishments like the Tow Path Inn. Learning local history and culture from the names of the taverns An interest in architecture is a nudge while on the in town, while educational, was also unordered, un- ledge of the present, the impetus for a headlong structured and perhaps the best way to learn. No dive into history. And as you learn the history of the tests and learn at your own speed, based on your building, you begin to learn the history of the city. age, interest and current level of understanding. It And you learn the heartache of that city. The 19th was an early demonstration that learning occurs on century were heady times in Buffalo. It’s natural, multiple levels, with me picking up on different as- simple beauty—undeniable. Further embellished by pects of the stories throughout my formative years. Burnham, Sullivan, Green, Wright et al, it had a dis- I am fairly certain that I just re-heard the exact same tinguished look and appeal. But with time, Buffalo stories, with only my perspective altered, and not seemed to be pushed, prodded, maybe goaded into the details of the stories. pursuits beyond its own ambitions, and she pursued contrived dreams without conviction. Exploited by I ended up as a young man in Albany, and while the soulless and later betrayed by the heartless, the I am still there, I am no longer young, at least by motto of Buffalo in the latter 20th Century, as for so conventional measures. Until recently, I hadn’t had many blue collar cities, might read, “Tread on Me.” frequent travels “to Buffalo.” My memories of my early travels “to Buffalo” were mainly around how The Buffalo Central Terminal was The Building crazy traffic was from Exits 50 to 55 and what a I saw on my trip into Buffalo. The history of the tremendous invention EZ Pass was. Oh sure, the building seems a vivid metaphor for the city itself. Maid of the Mist and Rich Stadium, but I had never My best guess is I was on Main Street when I saw it, even taken the Peace Bridge to Canada, opting for but I can’t say for sure it wasn’t Kensington Express- Lewiston Bridge or the Rainbow Bridge when I was way. Since then, I have seen other fantastic buildings heading to Canada from the west. around the city. I made a declaration to do a tour of the notable buildings on my next visit, and I will In early 2011, I made my maiden voyage “into Buf- take a close look at the Buffalo Central Terminal. falo”, with nothing seeming very familiar. But yet But as much as the Terminal struck me from afar, I nothing seeming very unfamiliar either, almost as think my initial trip into Buffalo was actually more if Expressway and Highway construction really do memorable for another reason. Canvassing the Elm-

52 wood area-- down Bidwell, onto Richmond, across Ferry, up Ashland to the crazy intersection to cut across Delavan and then across St James Place…. So many houses built with skill and pride, maintained and trimmed so beautifully, a true rival to any gift Burnham et al provided. I have never had a porch as nice as the ones I see on so many homes when walk- ing through the West Side.

And so, how does someone who has never lived clos- er than 150 miles, feel like Buffalo is almost home? Maybe it was the epiphany that I have been teth- ered to the Erie Canal for my entire life, like a dog chained to a 360 mile long run, has come over me. No complaints, just a realization that my life blood flows in this ancient artery, and that I see Buffalo connected to my home, or part of my home. Or maybe I just identify with a blue collar town in the rust belt. Or maybe Buffalo has preserved so many treasures from its past, it inspires me, as it inspires them.

So, in addition to touring some great buildings dur- ing my next visit into Buffalo, I also plan to make a visit to the Buffalo Inner Harbor & Aud and cel- ebrate the western terminus of my run. And then I look forward to a cold beer on a front porch of a brightly painted house and listen to the ideas my neighbors have for our city.

53 University heights & EAST

54 But I want so badly to believe

Jacob Drum

[Location: Anacones] that accrues after a long winter. Hope that, when we need to go somewhere, when we are ready to feel When people look at you and judge you—by your good about ourselves again, when the tide turns and beard, stained with tobacco; by your flannel men’s all that was so bad is suddenly so good again to the jacket, full of lotto tickets and forgotten grandchil- people who initially told us it was good and bad in dren; by your drinks, the pile of small glasses that the first place—when the winter ends, someone, our encroaches on a paper plate at your twelve o’clock mother or a well-connected developer, will pick us covered with pickle juice and caraway seeds—when up and walk with us to wherever we hopefully want people do, you can’t help but feel old, it’s not your to go. fault. The hope generated by nothing that wasn’t already The May sun glides in through the low windows, there to begin with will never treat you well. When, deflected off the liquor store windows like a waist- from nowhere, a voice suddenly tells you that, be- high slapshot. There is an unplugged jukebox be- cause the sun is shining, your knees, of all things, are hind you. Young men who look like you used to worth thousands or hundreds to him, but now, and enter and you know why, and you know, having only now and not before, and only for as long as he’s been there since early that morning, that it is time into the conversation—it could end at any time, his to leave. checking his watch and not ordering another drink A small child, when learning to walk, falls. Con- tell you—when this happens, the hope it gives birth stantly. Breaks skin. Cries. Why get up? His mother to is often false and painfully so. There is nothing a and father encourage him to. And he does, but man with bad manners and an expense account can should he? Who is our mother that she should tell give you that you didn’t already have. There is more us to get up after so many falls? She lies. We should fun to be had in people’s faces than in standing next stay on the ground. Roll in the gritty pavement dust to them and actively staring away from their faces.

55 Flowers of Merrimac Street

Jesse Schmidbauer

Will the plastic flowers of Merrimac bloom again? Sadness has hit our street. We’ve heard from the women who collects bottle. The man and wife with greyhound and I Two days after his 98th birthday a small, strong , Italian man died peacefully in his sleep He was of the neighborhood. He rode his bike at least 93 of his 98 years Once, at a coffee shop He told us about avoiding Mussolini’s army He said they dressed well but couldn’t fight fascism with fashion. He told us how they put a little liquor in their coffee every now and then. at that time – never knew where he lived Just simply that he was of the neighborhood. It’s just 3 years ago we moved to Merrimac and noticed as neighbors do A plastic garden with flowers that changed with the season We asked the neighbors who? At 97 years- a month ago I saw him at Paula’s lugging 100 pounds of dried cement bags on a handcart to repair something HE was stopping for a donut and coffee. Someone picked up his tab. He was known. HE was of the neighborhood. He rode his bike at least 93 of his 98 years Until he couldn’t anymore HE put out plastic Tulips in the spring and took down flowers in the fall Now before winter sets in he’s gone and so are the Plastic flowers of Merrimac

56 The Heights: Crown Jewel of Buffalo? Or Just the Shiny Tiara?

Mike Furlong

University Heights. In my opinion, one of the lesser ing our stay in that house, they always seemed to be championed neighborhoods of Buffalo. Why is that? far from sad. Or at least existentially sad. There was It’s because once you’re outside of them, the Heights a pretty much daily routine of coffee, work/school, are a pretty bleak scene. When UB is in session, ev- coffee, dinner, mini-growlers of Black Forest, Simp- ery night from Wednesday to Monday, the streets sons and eventually hanging out in the attic (Imag- are full of noisy frat boys and their equally noisy fe- ine sitting on the floor listening to records in your male counterparts who have yet to understand how tree house, except the only trees were weed, son. to dress for the weather in Buffalo. Granted, the cli- And the walls were full of generally crude, goofball mate is way different from the balmy shores of Long drawings). Island. This is an area where Mom and Dad money reigns supreme and many of the houses reflect the Across the street, lived this 10-year old, Andrew, fact that the tenants could care less about up keep; his drunk mom, pretty much absent dad and most their stay is on their parents’ tab and this is the first importantly, his 12-year old friend, Robert. Those time they can get truly ‘faced without having to were my guys. I played street hockey with them sneak back home later. Yet for a generally quiet and throughout most of the summer and reveled in the often angry, young man, this neighborhood was the fact that I could school them both thanks to my crown jewel of Buffalo for a number of years. younger hockey days. They’d usually come over and talk if I was reading on the porch as well. Whether I started visiting the heights when I was 17, mostly advice on how to meet girls (Robert, I followed your for punk shows and to play a number of garbage tips about wearing socks, getting new sneakers and metalcore shows. Both of those facets were pretty not driving a beater anymore. Still no dice, kid.), much on the outs when I unofficially moved into or trying to pull pranks and make fun of us, they my friends’ sunroom on Montrose at 19, and then were really nice kids and I’d have to write an entirely officially to the apartment upstairs when I was 20 different thing to get down all the funny things they and spent the next 4 years between that house and came up with. the Amy’s Upper apartment with the same three friends. Looking back, a person would probably re- One of my all time favorite memories of that house fer to those years as their salad days, but it would involved a roommate and I turning down the invite be way more fitting to classify them as my “Curry to join a UB Students Against Sweatshops summit Days,” or catch the widest arc of our culinary lives in the attic in favor of playing Zelda in our undies and just go with “Wok Days.” and then being shocked when Andrew, Robert and three of their cousins came walking in the apart- The house on Montrose was like a sad guy resort ment to play Nintendo/Foosball and then eating the home. While we did in fact live with two girls dur- pizza that the blowhards in the attic bought. I still

57 laugh thinking about Robert trying to introduce in an inflatable kiddie pool on a roof. And honestly, himself to the college girls as “Ben,” when he quite celebrating two friends being born in April just al- clearly had his name shaved into the side of his head. ways seemed to be a blast. A few of the shows in the I don’t know that I ever truly laughed about when living room even teetered on the edge of non-shit their youngest cousin told us he got a boner from show status. looking at said college girls, but it’d be a little too revisionist to forget that weird talk.

That house was the home base for a bunch of our * * * bands, an outdoor living room, trips to the great- est “Punk Night” weekly drinking fest, toilet paper raids of the UB campuses, the games “Keyhole,” and While going back and reading this over, it’s become “Silly Strobe,” and a handful of weird shows and un- pretty obvious to me that this has more to do with a official parties (Both fall under the category: “Shit group of friends that lived inside their own bubble Shows.”). After two years, however, the four of us of high-minded stupidity for a good chunk of their literally had to move on up in the world. 20’s than the physical location of the Heights, but so what? The Elmwood Village and Allentown both It was June of 2009 when we bailed on our former suck as much in their own right and it takes more absent/asshole landlord and traded up for quite pos- than 10 minutes to get to Taste of Thai from the sibly the greatest landlord of all time, by moving West Side. Those facts in and of themselves prove a into the apartment above Amy’s. The first year we great argument for the canonization of the Heights lived up there was pretty much gold. Between the as a fine neighborhood. If you still need more con- cheap rent, the breakfast special downstairs, the 5th vincing, take a day this summer and walk east from room practice space and unquestionably the best Main Street. Grab a tall boy (iced tea or otherwise) roof hang in the city, we did not want for much from New Englewood Deli (“Stanky’s), hang out on in ways of living spaces. It may have been the cool the trellis then take the path through the bushes and apartment, or that we all blossomed into somewhat watch a little league game in Shoshone. If you don’t less anxious and anti-social butterflies, but I think find that enjoyable, cut it out and find it enjoyable. we actually started to hang out with people who weren’t the four of us.

The general lifestyle of coffee, school/work, coffee/ beer, beer, dinner, beer/Simpsons then weed still prevailed for the most part for at least one of us at throughout our tenure up there, the curry contin- ued to flow like the floodwaters of Gilgamesh and the sadness was for the most part replaced by silli- ness. We had found GaGa (as in Lady) and forged a bond only those who’ve watched each other pee their underpants could understand. In fact, I still think asking to use the bathroom while someone is in the shower and then pissing on their feet is a timeless gag.

We even entered the realm of annual social events while residing upstairs. I defy anyone reading this to have a better time on the 4th of July without seeing fireworks from around the city and spending hours

58 Black rock & riverside

59 That Night at Showplace

Mac McGuire

People always talk about the great memories they Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long. The show was had at concert halls of Buffalo’s past, but for my good and all, I guess. I knew the Blues Traveler hits, one and, unless it will ever reopen, only time at the and a few lesser known songs, but of course, they Showplace Theatre, I could have gone without it. played none of those, at least from what I can re- It was early high school, so maybe 1999 or 2000, member. I stayed near the back, occasionally hav- and I was in my sort of/wanna be hippie phase. I ing a drunken older woman dance a little too close wore this ridiculous hemp necklace and constantly to my comfort zone. I was waiting for my moment wore Birkenstocks with fleece socks deep into the though. Frontman John Popper was known for fall. Hey, I know they were ugly, but they sure were handing out his harmonicas at the end of their shows comfy, so what did I care. I showered just a bit too and I was hell-bent on leaving with one of them. often and couldn’t really do that hippie groove type Once the last song came along, I zipped through dancing that you see at Phish shows and such, so the crowd and managed to squeeze my way right I was always a fringe jam fan, but Blues Traveler... up to the front, waiting for that moment to grab a Hmm, they were close enough to jam right? I liked harmonica. His vest was full of them, a pocket for them and they were coming to the Showplace The- each one, but I figured my chances were slim. He atre. Why not get some friends together and make threw the first one a few rows deep. Maybe I should the night of it? have just stayed where I was after all, I thought. Wouldn’t you know it, the second one was gently Being a short kid still working out his baby fat, or tossed right into my hands. I couldn’t believe it. The husky as my father always kindly put it (thanks for harmonica was cold, much bigger than I thought, the self-esteem boost!), never really did me any fa- but it was mine and I held my hand up in victory. vors growing up, and it certainly didn’t that night. Before I knew it, it was ripped right out of my hand My friend Omar’s older friend Paul drove the two by a bouncer. A massive man, he gave me a look of us and our friend Ben to the show that night. that screamed, “What are you going to do about it?” Having only two live music experiences under my and being maybe 5 foot 2 at that time, there clearly belt (a Dave Matthews/Time Reynolds show at UB wasn’t anything I could do. Naturally, the bouncer and a live, in-store appearance by Bare Naked Ladies handed the harmonica to a rather attractive woman at Media Play), this would be my first “club” show, to my left. So it goes, I guess. and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Paul dropped us off right in front of the theatre in the middle of Black With my head held low, I left the theatre disap- Rock as he looked for parking. Being an Amherst pointed and starving. I hadn’t eaten any dinner and kid, I didn’t go to Black Rock so this was a bit in- I needed something quick. There was some shady timidating for me. It didn’t get any better inside. I looking guy selling donuts right outside of the the- felt like the smallest and youngest person in there. ater. Not exactly my first choice, but my options It was grimy room, and I was not at the age where were slim so I grabbed a buck and bought myself I appreciated something like that, but might as well one. The first, and what would be my last bite, was enjoy myself until the show began. good enough until I walked right into another mas-

60 sive guy. Am I really this small or do larger men just a nice laugh and all, I guess I missed out on the joke. really like blues and harmonica? After apologizing I turned around to find Paul waiting in the car for to the guy, he looked down at me, took a his ciga- me to jump in. “You guys hungry?” he asked. Yeah, rette out of his mouth, because I guess there was no just a bit. ash tray anywhere near, proceeded to put out the butt right into my donut. Everyone seemed to have

Chandler Street Requiem

Jon Eisenberg

“This part of town is really turning around.” I sup- its a brick bone yard. A brick bone yard with a cor- pose it is. If you base that statement solely on that porate, fast food donut shop nearby. new, beaming white sign with the pink and orange letters. The same one that shines like a beacon of I sometimes find myself staring off mindlessly at this gluttony at every rest stop, on every thruway from one building at the end of the street. The architec- here to the frothy shores of the Pacific. Every stale ture isn’t awe inspiring by any means. Its a simple, coffee sipping, bavarian cream slamming road trip- three story, burgundy brick building, with dark per traveling North America knows that familiar green trim. Its probably the smallest of the buildings iridescent glow. From sea to shining sea; Diabetic on the street. Looking at it doesn’t inspire thoughts Manifest Destiny. And now theres one just a few of blood, sweat and gears like the other buildings on blocks away. the block do. But something about it intrigues me. I know that in its heyday the building housed a small, This is the land of the forgotten. An industrial once privately owned refrigeration company. The refrig- was. It used be a bustling strip of real estate. There erators made in that building were probably assem- was a time when these ruins snorted out soot and bled by hand and distributed all over the country. I smoke like story book dragons. Things happened stare at it from across the street. I imagine its front here. The dust covered plywood floors of these door swinging open and seeing a group of factory buildings were once brutalized by the heavy boots workers casually cross the threshold, cracking jokes of hardworking men. Men with calloused hands and and lighting mid day cigarettes underneath a grey broken backs. Men that kissed their wives softly in sky. I picture some of them in white Ts and others the morning and came home in the evening with in navy work shirts with their names sewn in cur- black grime underneath their fingernails. Steel and sive over their breast pockets. All of their jeans are iron were bent here. Steam was spewed here. Amer- stained in grease. I imagine them standing tall, with ica was built here. It was a mechanical Mecca. Now a sense of pride even as they lean against the brick

61 walls of the building. Their eyes are sharp. Tones still stands today directly next door to the house in of blues and browns peering back at me, ripping which he lives in. He probably thought that that was through me as if they’re talking to me, almost as if the America where he wanted to live. A land of op- they’re asking me why I’m there. Asking me why my portunity. A land of hope. A hardworking America. clothes are so clean and why my hair is so unkempt. They can’t decipher me. I imagine them examining The clamoring roll of the cargo train behind me me from a distance, talking to each other, wonder- breaks my mind from wandering. The ghosts of ing who or even what I am. I’m alien. I’m new. The Chandler Street dematerialize and thoughts of the one with the toothpick in his mouth leans over to Latvian man disappear like his American Dream. the one with red hair and a whispers something into Bloodless veins of browns and oranges crack the his ear. I can’t hear what they’re saying but I know black paint on the iron cargo containers, splitting what was said. the surface of the metal in a haphazard array of color. The sprawling rust reminds me of fireworks There is one residential house on the street. It against a night sky. And the rumble of the train over sits on the corner lot next to the old refrigeration splintered and weathered wooden tracks adds to building. Its the last structure on the block and its the effect. I’m suddenly warmed with the thought dwarfed by the brick masses to its left. The house of The 4th of July even though my bones shiver in is a small, pale yellow piss stain with a dilapidated the January air. The feeling leaves quicker than it chain link fence running around three quarters of arrived when I notice white letters reading B-U-F-F the property. The man that lives there is an immi- halted as the name of my city is ripped by oxidized grant from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Maybe orange arms stretching and scraping. The letter A is Lithuania, maybe Belarus. My guess is Latvia. He only partly visible. She seems to gasp for air as the is a bald, strange looking, bat faced man with long rust pulls her under. Her comrades, L and O have pointed ears, a hook nose and beady, sunken eyes already drowned underneath. She probably watched perched over sleepless, cracked, grey folds of skin. them go, watched them suffer. A long, slow demise. He’s a friendly man. Always says “Hello” in a thick, She is not far behind. She’s on the brink. She knows high pitched squeal with rolling Rs and heavy, blunt she is a goner. I’m sure the letters were once clear vowel sounds. I always see him wheeling his clunky, and legible. I’m sure, at one point in time, the letters plastic trash can out to the curb in a pair of red, were bold and bright and proud against the painted white and blue Buffalo Bills Zubaz pants with stains black surface. But now they seem to look on and that match the color of his house. I don’t know his wait for their turn to fade away. name. I’ve never really stopped to talk to him, other than the regular “Hello” from thirty feet away. I The train runs through an empty, polluted lot di- wonder why he’s here. How he landed on this city, rectly across from the brick refrigeration building on this street. I like to imagine that he came to and the Latvian’s home. I see it every day at about America for the same reason that most immigrants the same time. I wonder where it goes. I wonder if it do; for freedom and democracy and amusement really even goes anywhere. parks. Maybe he came for a simple life free from I stand aimlessly glancing back and forth between famine and unstable government. Or maybe he had the ugly, little yellow house to the right and the dreams of grandeur, the candy apple red muscle car, old, brick refrigeration building to the left; a cry- the big house on the hill, the bikini model wife. ing train to my back, and a styrofoam cup with He probably saw American movies as a kid, “Easy pink and orange lettering, half empty in my hand. Rider” or “Midnight Cowboy.” He probably saw A strong, cold wind blows through my uncombed pictures in books and “Life Magazine.” He prob- hair. It shakes my crisp, clean clothes and my soft ably saw images of men, hardworking men, in sweat hands tighten their grip on the coffee cup. I think to stained canvases with sooty faces and glistening eyes. myself “Maybe someone will turn this street around. Men with purpose. Proud men. Men like the ones Maybe.” that worked 80 years ago, in the same building that

62 GREASY

Deborah Osborne

“Tu-whit, to who – a merry note,/while greasy Joan doth keel the pot.” ~Shakespeare in Love’s Labours Lost the old building has Battenfeld Grease and Oil scrolled atop it you can see it from the I-190 I passed it for decades and never noticed yesterday I could see it lit inside as if by candle so many things one never considers like places that make grease so many types of grease barium grease sodium grease calcium grease calcium sulfonate grease aluminum complex grease lithium complex grease bentone grease silica gel grease polyurea grease and more a poem full of grease later, Cecilia says “greasy Joan” and I google it’s Shakespeare in Love’s Labours Lost but the love of grease is not lost in labor it’s right off the highway lit like a red brick whaling ship waiting to be found

63 East Side

64 “Stop Police Corruption”

Dan Carosa

Every city worth living in has a cast of characters understanding of the STOP POLICE CORRUP- that become mainstays of specific neighborhoods. TION guy is limited to the following facts: The City of Buffalo is no different. In my opinion, the most underappreciated is the STOP POLICE 1. His first name is Ron. CORRUPTION guy. The STOP POLICE COR- 2. According to a television interview, he began RUPTION guy is a man, assumedly wronged by flying the STOP POLICE CORRUPTION the Buffalo Police Department, who stands on flag after he thoughts his rights were violated the sidewalk of one of the Kensington Expressway at a traffic stop. overpasses and waves to the morning commut- 3. He has a Youtube channel with four uploaded ers while wearing varying types of black clothing. videos, one of which contains footage of him The outermost layer, whether it is a sweatshirt or a being flipped off by an off-duty police officer short-sleeved t-shirt always dons the phrase “STOP on St. Patrick’s Day, which is also the worst day POLICE CORRUPTION” in huge, white capital of the year to see a drunken public servant. letters. As someone who commuted from the West Side of Buffalo to Amherst on a daily basis for about So here’s to you, STOP POLICE CORRUPTION four years, I feel like I saw him every morning on my guy. While many things in my life have changed way to work, usually stationed on the Edison Ave since 2008, you have remained a rock of conviction overpass. While I generally feel pretty knowledge- and obsessive behavior. May all of your dreams of a able about the idiosyncrasies of our fair City, my non-corrupt police force come true in 2013.

65 Untitled

Brian Fanelli

Buffalo is a city of optimistic decay learning to em- onslaught of time. brace the fallen heroes of our youth. We’re proud of the fallen buildings and the grain elevators because Jutting out over rotted rooftops, that now-familiar what else can you do? clock tower beckoned. I got off my bike and looked down into the abyss of its empty train yard, nervously This city is a second hand book discarded by hun- scanning the area for signs of life and finding none. dreds of thousands of readers, and we were the ones All this industry passed over and forgotten. Broken lucky enough to find it lying there for our eyes alone windows and crumbling bricks. to read. My favorite chapter is called The Central Ter- I rushed home and looked up everything I could minal, Buffalo’s dusty crown jewel, and it takes place about this vacant masterpiece. I sat at the computer in our Polonia neighborhood. It can be described as sorting through articles until my eyes were sore and gorgeous, or broken, or massive, or dirty, or hope- crusted over with sleep. It opened in 1929, a few ful, or just one bounced check away from demolition. fleeting moments before the Great Depression. It But it’s so much more than those descriptions. They closed in 1979, marking an unofficial end-of-days don’t begin to tell the story. So I’ve come to a word for the Buffalo steel industry. Lately there have been that takes all those descriptors and more, and puts efforts to save it, led by the Central Terminal Resto- them in a dirty yet truly beautiful package. The Cen- ration Corporation. They host fundraising events in tral Terminal is Buffalo. No more, no less. It’s Buffalo, varying degrees of success, and have recently taken to NY. asking that you adopt a roof tile for a much needed The Terminal was built with hesitant optimism.O ur re-tiling job. city government wasn’t fully committed to the idea, On days when feeling particularly pessimistic it but the momentum of industry thrust it into our strikes me that we’re just kids on the beach trying to arms regardless. We embraced it because there was conserve a sand castle. The tide is rising and we’re still no other option, but it never once ran at full capac- out there working away as the water surrounds our ity—not even opening day—and within a year of its toes. completion the Great Depression was in full swing, dragging our up-in-the-clouds optimism for The Ter- But on most days I see the distant outlines of a train minal back down to Earth where it belonged. in the station, and shadows of passengers rushing to make it on board because damn if those Buffalo con- Years passed and The Terminal struggled, once or ductors don’t move on quick. I see hordes of Buffalo- twice receiving reprieves by way of War or Steel but nians with bags in tow, and I see steam rising from the always reverting back to its natural state of decay. It yard to make fossils in the sky. rose and fell in perfect sync with this beautifully de- crepit city of ours, reflected the city’s successes and When I think about Buffalo I think of The Central failures as though built for that purpose alone. Terminal. Of the many efforts made to save it, and of the many thousands of us who treasure it. The perfect I can remember the shock of my first visit. It felt like allegory for the Nickel City—a failed endeavor trea- finding the ruins of Atlantis, hidden away in Buffalo sured by those who still know it exists. this whole time. A relic of the past lost long ago to the

66 A Short Interlude Before Moving Into The City of buffalo

Mike Torsell

It was not as if I set out to spend my Saturday night Your first question is probably, why is there some- on a hill in Amherst. I set out to spend my Saturday thing instead of nothing? What is the meaning of night on a hill in Amherst in a dinosaur costume. our existence? I apologize but I cannot answer that, you have to figure that out on your own. I also * * * apologize for how cheap a joke I just made. Now, This hill, on Saratoga Road, behind Amherst Mid- your next question might be why I am in a park dressed like a dinosaur, and I can definitely answer dle School, was not always a hill; it was once a ba- 2 sin, a manmade rise in the ground topped off with you. In 2008, my brother and his friends would a large concrete dome. The town eventually built a put together and compete in scavenger hunts. They large water tower, which you can probably see some- were planning one and I, bored and with a lot of times (it is that sky blue thing that juts out in the free time after recently getting out of a long term re- sky from various points in Amherst, UB and even lationship, decided to participate as one of the clues. —on particularly clear days—from the 33), and the After shooting ideas back and forth, we somehow basin was no longer necessary.1 Still, concrete dome came up with the idea of having the opposing team remained for some time. deliver an “offering to the King of the Dinosaurs atop his hill.”3 This translated into standing around Even while the dome was there, this hill was used a public park, dressed as a dinosaur at 10pm on a as a sledding destination for local kids during the Saturday night in July. It was, obviously, a logical winter. I would often go to the top, just before the result of all the decisions I had made in my then 24 concrete dome started and sled down. The braver years of existence.4 kids, of whom I was decidedly not one, would go to the very top and slide off the lip of the concrete, My initial assumption was that I would be the only briefly airborne before continuing down the snow one in the small park at 10pm. This made me feel covered grass. It looked fun, but I found it too ter- slightly less vulnerable; at least no one would see the rifying to ever attempt. tail I now possessed. In retrospect, I am not entirely sure how I knew when to show up or if the teams Eventually, and probably at the behest of some were following a strict schedule. It could have been parent(s), the town took down the concrete basin, a guess on my part and I may have set myself up leaving just a grassy hill. In recent years, they have to sit on that hill for some time. The weather was done more to make it into a park, cutting a more nice, so this would not be too bad, but I did not defined path through the field, planting some trees want to scare anyone walking through the park that and adding a few benches. It is in this new, more night. The last thing I needed was to be arrested as park-like, version that I am now standing, in 2008, a suspicious reptile. I don’t think the police would in a purple dinosaur costume. appreciate the fact that I was not just any dinosaur, but the King of the Dinosaurs. * * *

67 * * * awful. Absolutely awful. No idea what was it in or why it was so bad, but I clearly remember how ter- While I am waiting for the participants to show up, rible it was. I took off the costume and walked to I thought back to another moment in that small my car. park. Behind the hill is a patch of woods. Since this is in Snyder, it was not really anything substantial * * * but a patch of trees with a trail running through from one side of the hill to the other. Now when This takes place weeks before I began to call the city I was 11, for whatever reason, I found myself run- my home and in a way is the last of the strange soli- ning through the trail and I came upon a set of dis- tary adventures I had before moving to West Ferry carded furniture, arranged to look like a room in in 2008. It stands, geographically, on the edge of the middle of the trees. There was something inher- Buffalo and, in my life, on the edge of two very ently spooky about the whole thing and I remember distinct periods of my twenties. A few weeks later, quickly dashing out of the woods. I don’t really re- on one of the last nights I would sleep in my par- member ever seeing anything like that again. ents’ house (I found an apartment on West Ferry and was moving at the end of the month), I walked * * * back to the park in normal clothing. It was an emp- ty, friendless Saturday, one of the many I had back Thirteen years later and I was probably spooking then. I sat, no longer having a tail, on a bench, a someone else. A random of assortment of dog walk- little further from the hill and looked up at the few ers passed through the park every few minutes. I was stars shining through the light polluted sky. Sitting not really prepared for this (the park was supposed there, I reviewed how much had changed that sum- to be empty, who is out this late in Snyder?!) and I mer and how much everything would continue to sheepishly milled around avoiding eye contact with change once I moved. Sitting in silence, in a small each new passer by. I was, for whatever reason, try- park in Snyder, the King of the Dinosaurs sat and ing to maintain an air of guilt or at least awareness wondered what was next. that this was very weird. Hopefully, by doing this, I signaled I was not normally a person to wander parks in costume. I paced the area for 15 minutes, 1 debating on where to stand. The clue said I would At some point, I stopped calling the 33 the Kensington be on the top of the hill but I was concerned no Expressway. I am not entirely sure why it was called that in the first place. At no point does the 33 intersect with Kensington. one would see me; however, I felt like just staying I might be wrong though, I am often wrong about these types at the foot of the hill would be strangely lacking in of things. 5 the desired dramatic effect. As time went on, the 2 I have some guesses on your weightier question, but I would absurdity of the whole thing became increasingly need some more space to flesh out a full and complete mean- apparent (somehow not as bad initially) and I began ing of life. to wonder what I was doing and why I was spend- 3 My brother now claims that this was all his idea and I just ing my Saturday in Snyder, on a hill, in a dinosaur went along with it. However, I still claim this was more or costume. less my idea. 4 Since the events of this story, I have found myself in equally Luckily, the team showed up just when I was be- bizarre places based upon my continued series of life choices, ginning to become melodramatic about the whole but none in such a ridiculous getup. Ok, I wore a fedora a few thing. They immediately asked who I was and how I times but we all make mistakes. ended up doing this. I tried my best to explain why 5 What effect I was going for and if it was a “dramatic effect” but really could only stammer out some awkward are lost on me now and, in retrospect, seems like a silly conceit half-explanation. They gave me my prize, leaving to have had in the first place. me with a bowl I had to wash and somehow return to whoevers mom it belonged to. The sundae…was

68 Conroy & Brown’s Mostly Practical Mission

Conroy & Brown have been mapping individual connection to place since 1905, operating at the intersection of the way we affect our surroundings and the way our surroundings affect us. By gathering personal narratives tied to location that expose bits of experience here, C&B continue their work as a way to explore, characterize and celebrate place itself.

up the next morning) But Buff allo er- made me feel like able “Ah what the heck.” rust Th anks for that Bu- belt fallo. THANKS. mindset? My body aches. My head or am I just hurts. But my heart is an asshole? It fi lled. And Gooey. doesn’t really And Smiling. matter much. Maybe that’s because the I love it here, drinks where cheap. I really do. 2 Red Stripes. one Still, every What my pre- change in place with its Yuengling. A shot of Jack. year I hope vious writing failed to capture, is just that, would help her fi nd success in a little rat And a Seagram’s Manhattan. that, one way my failure to capture my own capturing. career she loved. What she found is hand. $17. NEEEEDDD I SAY or another, I Each time, each piece of writing, those trees became that even expectation is a place- the Boop.” MoRE!! Th ank you Mul- will not have a focal point of the work. It speaks to this other city space of wanting something to be a ligans!! other small to see another certain way and needing to believe “Shit, winter. that I live in, alone. I almost things: Kim was my it will be. bartender at Mulligans. Kim “No. You must get out of the sandbox.” stepped When asked Another friend just moved back home right on top of was awesome. I wanted a to map Buf- I stared at him blankly. It wasn’t his thick french ac- manhattan. She didn’t have cent that was confusing. I just wasn’t expecting this as after years living and building a life in one once be- falo, I have to Th ey came to rely on grass- a diff erent city. Her letter speaks to cause I figured sweet vermouth or a glass. say-- where do a response to asking him if he would write me a letter (she had the little side bar). roots organizing to achieve of recommendation. “What?” place in a diff erent manner, in how it would dart out of the I start? community-centric goals. we manage to curate and upkeep way! Th at was the time I dropped When I came up later to pay Maybe I talk about “Why won’t you apply anywhere else? Don’t tell me my tab she excited told me how she Th ey made a point of it’s for a boy.” “No, um, no boy. I just, I dunno, I like a whole map of places in our lives the tray with three steak sandwiches on it my high school without feeling scattered. Yet there’s a and he threw one of the skillets across the kitchen had found me a glass! And found me experiences of skip- knowing and relying on their neigh- it here, I have a job… an apartment… I dunno.” some sweet vermouth. And that I bors. balance we crave between the diff erent and then threatened to take it out of ‘my pay.’ He got even ping classes to go “I will write you the letter.” “oh, okay, thank—“ opportunities our diverse maps of place madder when I laughed at that—I mean, come on, you’re going could have a manhattan. or I could to Spot Coff ee and close out if I wanted too. I had to Th e result: Buff alo greets the 21st century with community solidarity, a can-do attitude, “If you apply somewhere else in addition to our department. Look at Binghamton’s pro- create and the need to feel grounded, to to take it out of the $800 you owe me? Go for it, I’ll take the $770 New World Record a reasonable cost-of-living, and a strong sense of place. have a claim to just one place. My friend you’ll never come up with.” say yes! I MEAN SHE fouND on Elmwood Av- gram, Stoneybrook… but Buff alo. Yes. Look at Buff alo.” “Buff alo?” ME A GLASS AND SWEET calls it simplicity, while I call it having enue? Now, it’s not all rainbow-farting unicorns. Th e metro area is still in search of a new post- Don’t they have cables running between all the buildings on campus so you can pull a real mailbox: Her boyfriend, despite having just learned too much about the hush VERMouTH!!! ( I also had a lovely Do I tell people about manufacturing economy. Th eir medical corridor holds promise, as do the energy and arts puppies, was always pretty patient as her and I revisited, yet again, all the bartendress before Kim too!! I forgot yourself to class through the blizzards? I didn’t ask. I think I probably agreed meekly and how I moved to Califor- sectors, but none have emerged as the winning ticket just yet. left his offi ce. I had not expected anyone to tell me that day that I should walk away As I will say again over and over, it is so madness that was those overnight shifts. I’m sure we’ll bring up that one her name. I’m sorry I am normally nia with the intention of strange for my whole life to be in one Th ough it’s been brought up a few times, we’ve never been dude who would always come in asking if we wanted to see his “dick tat- really good with names. BuT You Th at said, the city has a lot going for it, not the least of which is its depth of com- from everything I knew and had built here so far for the city of Buff alo. It is a city, right? never coming back, only munity. And that’s precisely what had me checking real estate listings by the end of the place. It’s the fi rst time in 9 years that all my stuff clear on how it actually happened. Th e way I recall is that it too” which was a tattoo on his leg of a penis or his “dick piercing” which WERE LoVELY!) At Kristine’s to come back at the age After doing some research that mostly consisted of one wikipedia page, I could not sub- is at home and that I am not split between locations. So I think I am just basking all began when sp@ce 224 owner Jose Ro- driguez started lining assumably was an unsolicited off er to see his genitalia. or the various the second time. I had a lovely little week. Something deep in my unconscious suddenly realized it was tired of transience, of 21 because I realized I of living in a place with a shifting, nondescript point of view. And it got really, really stantiate my snow cable rumor but I did have some new bits of information about this in simplicity. Th ough even I have to admit being restless comes easily. chairs up in rows facing the largest of the two gallery windows. ways we would respond to the incredibly personal and invasive questions chat with a gentleman (24 years old wanted something real? suggested new home. President McKinley was shot there. Rick James was buried there. hole. that were always a staple of trying to cash someone out to just get rid I think- if you live in Buff alo maybe excited about the idea of supporting local artists. of joining a block club. of knowing Th e last letter made me ache for all its familiar language of feeling lost and Th e night was a warmish one towards the end of August or the Maybe I talk about my expe- my mailman’s name. Th at asshole that did the Cross-Bronx Expressway destroyed a neighborhood or some- Re- of them. or the times the boss would somehow make a half bottle of you know him- if you are curious ask Kris- riences of playing & watch- thing there. High crime rate, one of the highest poverty rates, good art scene… whatever. somehow completely at home in a foreign place. In the year I spent traveling beginning of September of 2011. Jose, Hunger Anthem Tullamore Dew disappear and try to impress young girls by loading their tine- maybe I should give you more info through South America before moving to Buff alo I discovered there’s a certain mem- frontman Brendan Vaganek, and myself were putting back a ing local shows in attics, In my opinion, Buff alo shows us how we can reinstate the social systems that hold us I’ll get through the application and he’ll write me that letter. ber hotdogs up with a bunch of shit they didn’t want, girls that were already on him) But he makes his living- designing crazy rave parties in Larkin together and meld them with the march of progress. When Buff alonians look at their ache associated with place and trying to fi nd it in a diff erent culture. Th ere are few in the darkened and vacant artspace. As shit-shooting prone to complaining and leaving only the exact amount on their hand- cases… 1:48pm I began this process of appeasement, no problem. But then, I got stuck. It was the state- moments, as my friend alluded to in a literal manner in her letter and which I use where went, it was pretty standard fare. And then Jose started Land factories or watching city, they don’t see the Rust Belt/snow-encased stereotype the rest of the country pokes you put scribbled bill. She would talk about the time she found a thong in the … for bands and making custom drums a basement show deep in the ment of purpose I had to submit withThe my thesis. It had to include why I wanted to go to metaphorically, wherein you feel yourself growing calluses from all the work you must do with the chairs. kitchen among the prep stuff and I would talk about the time I walked and making custom instruments. He has fun at. Th ey see neighbors working together. Th ey see progress and reinvention. And that West Side where everyone they see it all happening right now. Not in some distant, amorphous future, but in real uB so badly. And even though I triedSummer to keep was it theoreticalblissful and at sweet- fi rst, I actually began to think to build yourself place in a new culture, language and geography. My friend is living with dent in I looked at him quizzically and inquired what in the sweet in on the boss getting frisky with some girl my age in the back while I hoodies for all his workers. He spent a year hits the HVAC duct work to through why I would want to go toened school by Tacoin Buff Tuesdays alo. What and life a inmiraculous Buff alo numberwould actually of a tribe in Ethiopia, in a world many cannot even claim to be able to fathom, and for her was waiting on an order. on one set of drums. He said they turned time, as we speak. the dirt. Stab Betsy of Pike he was doing. He replied simply, “stadium the beat, creating a magical be like. So far, it seemed it was a 40splace and that cheap (in whiskeymy narrow shots... view of the world that only fi nding place happens even amidst deep confusion over why she’s there: two sticks into the mud, seating.” As standing beer swilling louts around the globe out great. Just left Ni- moment of underground music and hipsterness? Buff alo is a city well under way. We in other cities should keep an eye on it. Better yet, involved looking at maps of New York State) seemed to be close to nothing (I now know We’d undoubtedly revisit all the promises he made and how he never agara falls. It ain’t Buff alo. but it’s close though. An awesome end to we should participate in it, whether there or in our own communities.of March As native Meagan where Toronto, Rochester, Cleveland,My parking Pittsburgh lot is and the wild,Detroit untamed are, don’t bushland worry), of wouldsub- …But can you understand that there is a world where one’s belongings do not exceed one for your loss, and are wont to do when off ered a new seat- ing option, we sat, followed through. But we had both quit months ago, and it closed almost what a donkey can carry, there is nothing save for the metal of your machete you use that one for the dog’s. Ex- gazing out that large gallery window directly at Th e Pink. Buff alo adventure. or should I focus on Buff alo related activities-- helping to create Baco said to me once, “My one word for Buff alo is PoSSIBLE.Madness. Anyone urbia, can be wide,a Buf- naturally be cold and snowing yearpaved round plane (lake efftrenched ect, duh) between and intensely four intersections.lonely (I knew immediately afterwards. So, except for occasionally muttering about how another Buff alo Carshare hub, pushing for preservation or down- falonian, no matter where they are.” I had My parking no onelot thatis the lived wild there, asphalt even fl peripherally,atland where and cars the creep ‘city ofand good sleep, neighbors’ where mostmoniker people seemed dare you do not know how to make; when the grass is gone you migrate in a sea of people and amine the greater mean- Th e only lighting in the room originated from two or three showcase nice it would be to have that money he owed us, we had mostly come to Me and my friends (who are traveling with) love you Buff allo. Hopefully that makes town investment? Maybe, just maybe I write about my experience pur- not tread. Not many span the entire lot and the few that do don’t acknowledge each other; we all hang livestock to a mountain on the horizon- and I have said none of this well, none of this as ing of it all. Who is the you feel good. Love “Th e guy that no one knows” suspicious). But somehow that list of what seemed like reasons not to move somewhere lights above the window. Something gradually began to form in my terms with what had happened in that little late-night Allentown restau- with buying houses on the In Rem foreclosure Auction-- a day that Take it from an outsider looking it. Take it from someone whochased considers ourherself heads a Buf- to avoid becameeye contact intensely with potentialattractive. predators overwhelming and cross so. the lot in silence. Th ere’s a lifetime’s worth I mean it- what am I doing here? * * * I take these selfi sh one? Th e playful mind; a proto-idea, if you will. I got a sense of a possibility without rant. And typically, as we retell moments of these nights over and over, changed my life? So, when I am asked to map my Buff alove, falonian at heart. It’s time to discard the shallow view. It’s timeP to e be Buff t alo.of refuse trapped in this space, untouched by those who clean the places that people go. Nobody ever goes letters and stack them on my nightstand. I have no idea what I will do with the growing animal for playing in the we still laugh our way through each one--and it’s pretty hearty laughter. I have yet to pry open my eyes, but I can feel the excruciatingly bright winter sun- truly being aware of what was transpiring. I then suggested that we light blasting through my bedroom windows. It is that 15 minutes of hard sun that I have to think of the day, the event and/or the place where my life Sounds, back there, so nobodyAnd removessix months the later, debris I wasand living it just on travels West with ferry. the wind to be trapped like wild birds in pile, but I feel comfort in their companionship. Th ey remind me during my more frus- wrong place, or the So, if you ever catch us complaining, just keep in mind there’s no way I used to sit on the corner of Elmwood and Bidwell during the summer with my friends trated moments of living in Buff alo that sometimes it’s hard to have faith in the process careless owner for sitting point the lights at the chairs. Th ere was a general air of agreement and shows up late in the morning on some March days. It is not comforting though. It goals and my love for this city came together. So many memories! So and watch people go by. To put my head back against the walla Joanna and blur thethe colorschain andlink fenceI won’ton the bore lot’s younorthern with coast.all the unexpected things that happened between then and now the lights were adjusted. So there we were, three grown men sipping it was all that bad. Newsom of experience, but it’s worth it. I fi nd more and more that “place” is really just the series of so close to the street? amplifi es the cold as it refl ects off the dirty snow. As I try to roll over, I feel my arm peel many events! So many places and great experiences!! What one do I shapes of movement rushing past was comforting. I would drift in and out of Myconversations journey begins (except as I am for dumped the fun out fact onto that aI sidewalknever attended before graduatea sea of parked school), cars, but like as itthe turns smallest out, Buffant in alo beer and sitting in three of about twelve seats, which were arranged Her and I both have desk jobs now, her in the arts and me in the non-profi t sector. We off of the sheet as if it were glued down. Curiosity brings me to fi nally expose my bare eyes choose? I know, I will choose the day my worlds collided. T h e r e album, experiences we mediate, and something like reading a letter about someone else wrestling around me, listening for bits of music playing from open car windows and laughtera patch of from the mostwas cantankerous not the place zoysiagrass. to go to Ibe almost cold, alwaysdesolate enter and the alone. lot byAll passing the little under bits aof pair information of kissing I with experience reminds me not to worry so much about where I am at the moment, as Truthfully, it’s hard to say. as they would be in a small theater, the only points of illumination in an get regular paychecks and sexual harassment is now something that there are rules against. to whatever harsh reality has come to pair itself with that goddamn sunlight. Dried blood was a day where my two worlds fi nally crossed paths… actually it was more like they the park close by. I would leave every night waiting to go backand the nexta day. had gleaned before I arrived were not necessarily untrue, but created an image of this city otherwise darkened gallery, framed by a large win- dow on Allen Street Sun Kil side-view mirrors from the fi rst two parked cars I see and continue to weave through the maze of sleeping one place so quickly becomes another. I am convinced that the best spot to She says everyone in her offi ce complains that there is a rat problem, but we both know covers my left arm, as well as the corner of the bed sheet. Th e pocket knife I got as a gift smashed into each other, fi reworks went off and my heart exploded-- all over a cup of machinery. Eventually,that wasI’m ledincredibly by a small underwhelming path lined with compared small domesticated to the reality. trees Th around e wikipedia the structure page mydidn’t directly across from Th e old Pink at approximately 11 post meridiem. until you watch a rat play in cornmeal breading like it’s a sandbox, you don’t really know for being the best man in my friend’s wedding is lying open on the fl oor. Th e cut across coff ee at Sweetness_7 on Grant Street in Buff alo’s West Side. You see, this Elmwood and Bidwell Alex spilled his small coff ee MoonHe hoped al- no one saw mention some of what I have come to fi nd most energizing about this city—it didn’t Mags and I were just hanging out listening to Doug’s album of Warren Zevon- something kiss, in Buff alo, is behind any drape of bum that parking lot was built to serve and the thick forest of the populated lot unexpectedly opens up. Suddenly I’m the myriad willow trees along Hoyt Lake, And then the Promethean moment came. A couple walked by. Like the fi rst shot fi red in what you’re talking about. my wrist is really not much more than a scratch. Not even a cry for help. It resembles the was the day I met Jason Wilson-- activist, preservationist and Buff alo lover. And while 1. Th ere was a traumatic meteorological event duringwalking the football across rollingmention blacktop our plains,growing forgotten refugee spacepopulation tucked and away their by smallthe back businesses walls of startingvarious onbuildings. the West about that guy made everyone want to get out and go drinking. It was a little early though inner thigh of a sad teenage girl more than anything. Hardly any kind of legitimate suicide you may laugh at this, it was an incredible meeting that has changed my life forever. It I already in Delaware Park. I started visiting the the American Revolutionary War, we’ll never know who was responsible, but one of us 1:42 am season of 2006 that is known to locals as “Th e october Storm.” I’m one of those locals but Side; it didn’t talk about the working urban farms that provide fresh food and jobs to the for that, maybe all of eight- dark already for two hours- but from the bezeled windows we park while I was a graduate student clapped, long and loud. At that instant, the proto-idea stopped being a possibility, crystal- 1. Spring: fourattempt. minutes Th there, is is the seven second minutes time back. this Winter:winter I fihave ve minuteswoken there,up bloody six minutes(the fi rstback. involved Two blocks,was four an eventhundred that made my two worlds collide... the event where I realized I could do not in every way. A heavy snowfall fell before the leaves had a chancehad to,(I and becauseoverturned of the shopping city’s carts kids litterand theirthe most families; desolate it didn’t parts describe of the lot, the abandoned organizations like that shipwrecks. are working I imagine for safe could see there was a beautiful moonlight refl ecting off the fl uff y snowfl akes. Buff alo. on a nearly drunken. In a mostly clear moment. foryards, Kristine. two intersections, one all-wayme stop, crawling one traffi through c light. my bedroom Th e disparate window catcalls, after smashingthe walks theof glassshame with and a glory,fl ower the pot).late-night Buffdrunken alove stumbles, stuff withhad someone an addic-who loved it as much as I did. So we met at heightened potentiality for surface tension, thousands of treestion came and down tothat the if ground. the seas of theand Bermuda aff ordable Triangle housing were for drained, the residents this is alreadywhat it living might here;look it like. didn’t In thedetail winter, the innovations the carts almost eight years ago. I often picnic or lizing into something tangible, like letting Schrodinger’s cat out of the bag. Th e couple, Mags had a brainstorm- we could ski up to Jimmy Mac’s! Hell Yeah! I had my skis upstairs read with friends under the slope of without breaking step, looked at us with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. We all knew the still-drunk morning stumbles. Th e three-minute preoccupied theres, the exultant and observant six-minute theres. Th e seven-minuteSweetness onaccom- a chillyNew fall day. World We talked was about art, buff alo, preservation and opportunities Th ose left were only left in part. closing remain stationary, andoften experiments becoming lodgedin inner-city in nearby education snow andreefs, it creating didn’t explore a plastic the island spaces among and projects the black that Buff alo. Seems to me to be a sparkly kinda classy kindapanied wild placeand engagedwhere all backs, the kidsthe four-minuteI sit up and solitary try toand assess introspective the situation. backs. I Thpick e upreluctant the carton theres, of the warm forced Wegmans theres, keysorange left on theto workdresser, together. coff ee Hesoon was soso cute I had with to hisbuy little up corduroy pants and big smile. I knew I had as much rock sea or it’s rendition of the exploding kayak art statue. Th ey come alive in the summertime though, in Atle and Doug’s apartment. We were out in the fl akes in ten minutes fl at. Doug lamely David or walk along the ring looking for fi sh and turtles sunning on the rocks… but I what was going to occupy the rest of our evening. The juice off the fl oor. I guzzle what is left, as if some vitamin C, D and calcium would make exist for the art and the music and the writing that the residents of Buff alo and their friends come creepy crawling out at night and suck the streets (andcold bars) in two dry. mugs Where on the the art fl oor.is Th e somber backs, but eager backs, feet drawn four hundred yards, feet relieved on three stairs toto getthe this door. guy Two out toas moreI could). meetings, of course, more it eventswas and more Buff alo preservation stuff . Having spent my life working with landscapes, my fi rst dutyBozo’s was to snowplow. and they Waking skate theare lot responsible like a roller for. rink, After remaining two years within of living the hereassigned I’m sureperimeter, I don’t but have in the a new whole pose picture, and didn’t have cross country skis so he promised to meet us around ten. I fi gured I’d be on mostly watch for people kissing. for about the fi rst half hour or so, everybody who walked by gave us the same mixture every(where). from your classic (the architecture)better to the ornamentsyears, two and blocks. shining All things the theres and andeverything the backs. better. 2. I can’t tell if I am shakingIt’s a duewind to tunnel the cold, there the and anxiety, back, orbut the the booze. wind doesn’tHis always dedication, whine passionidea and to getlove beer, for Buffand ofalo coursewas (is) incredible. following the meeting, at 3AM (in my bedroom at the “old Wondermoth” co-op afterat Elmwood andposition North) each I time you pass through. Cars pass you in both directions as if on safari. I’m the asphalt lion my second Irish Coffthey ee by slowthen. choice, just like those part of that Saturday was spent paint- ing vines Mostly likely a lovely cocktail of all of the above. All the questions that I don’t have answers but I do have a much better idea. And what I like most is that this city is so many incred- old maze games in the early days of the internet. Do we goWhen left on I moved Katherine? to Buff or alo, do my family and close friends were all convinced I would fi nally of curiosity and suspicion as that fi rst couple. Sometimes it was a group of four or fi ve paints on every bar- crazy crazy colors. Cool cool posters. Whereand whisk. is Buff Th alo?ere Inare between.church bells, the rhythm of running shoes, light traffi c at 20 mph, and often cold, bemused birds. Th ere’she received the murmura text of saying,Teddy “you’re and Ia realhad gem.”bought our Withinbeers, a few months, he was mine stepped out into an unfamiliar city. Th e empty open spaces Bozodesigned got for downmovement to pass and but neverible things stop for. in the face of being known mostly for its wings and snow and sports teams. and fl owers and whatever we thought wouldIn between Chicago, and New york. Nowbe I feel Innice between the world I know and this to run through my head. Where was I last night? Mohawk Place? Essex? Th e Pink? Some for keeping and as I write this, we share a little apartment on Buff alo’s West Side. Today, recreation were now fi lled with fallen trees. Th e canopy one never notices, an urban ceiling up Claremont we went- or maybe it’swe down(?)-go right? we Maybe went straight, south to through Bird, left the to intersection Lincoln andfi tond thesomeone curve? “just Looking like outme.” hisTh window, e reality is,Clay most chose days, the it right. feels likeTh rilling my wholeadventure relationship lay and sometimes it was a loner, but the reactions were pretty consistent. And then, as the people in the park – dads and dude bros playing frisbee, couples arguing on blankets, and barking dogs, there are always dogs. Th ere’s the bustling something ridiculously girly and non- alcoholic. Parkway. Th e gorgeous quiet of the night off ered an amazing universal sense of sweet per- history should be listed under Craigslist/Buff alo/Missed Connections. I’ve had exactly two night wore on, the response began to shift. Peopleto look would at. Irecognize can’t even that tell same you crystallizedhow many peoplefantastical colorful abstract awkward (butstopped in a good with way) otherof the world. farmer’s Th market,ere are prosand andTuesday combination jazz nights in of thethe summer.three? How Children did I get laughing home? Howin the have yard I ofnever St. John’sgotten Grace. mugged Th making e whiz of bicyclewe have wheels, started the our own development company called Buff aLove Development; we were that isn’t recognized in the everydayness of automobiles, storefront signage, andIt takes a vibration ten minutes About to cross a year my makingparking thelot bymove, foot, with with a diff life erentthat lookedobstacles entirely for each diff season. erent andIn the a completelysummer, I track the ahead as I exhilaratingly signaled and made a slow and careful turn. their kids or dogs or alone on their jog and asked whatcons. we It’s small. But like other ‘small’were cities doing(I spent and some time in Baltimore recently) you that 4am drunken walk all the way down Richmond Ave? Why are my pants neatly folded featured in Buff alo ThSpree e threefor being of us gamewere inchangers bad shape, and evenemotion- highlighted by the National or rhythm that fades away into a non-space of the blasé, a timeally held by the hoursalternation to remain of awarenew wayof where of seeing my shadowsthis city andwill whatbe, where was beyond I’ll be able it, I tothought seek protection back on that from day the in harshhis of- fection. Coming upfuture to Soldier’s sun. Circle Mags is telling me about a boyfriend at Alfred who long-term relationships in Buff alo which each lasted exactly six months. quantum cat and immediately after walking out of view, they’d return and take a bow. And crunch of snowy footsteps, fl ip-fl ops against warm concrete. Th e occasional honk, shout, or welcomed good morning. And to myself, whatever speaking. Bozo had broken up with his lying cheating traveled across campus skiing throughHeading trees to south see her. toward “Th the rough dead trees? end onHow Katherine, high were the road got a little choppy, and the rails didn’t help. Th at was fi ne, my car had once handled a through some sort of hive-mind phenomenon,if they could it became help. Manythe norm. off eredPeople to wouldgive us catch money canwhen sense/feel they the community. Thfound e feel outthat we everybody were knowsstream everybody. is in my head, Th ebut feel at thatnight likeon thea prayer, dresser? please Th don’tat looks mug like me, hot please sauce don’t on mugmy Brown me, please Sugar don’t shirt. mug Did me. I get a chicken Trust for Historic Preservation for our “heart bomb” initiative. We dance, we work crazy red and green lights, was gone. Eighteen inches of snow dampened the neighborhoodone summer into I traversedfi ce. It the was opposite never his coast thick in frenchsearch ofaccent better that protection. made him I foundincomprehensible. its unfamiliarity I guess unpleas- I didn’t ant and the I did visit the park with the fi rst gentleman several times to walk and relax on the grass recent grads doing the project on a dime and out of pure love. You could attribute it to fi nger sub from Jim’s? How many awful text messages did I send? How much money was girlfriend some time ago, Teddy desperately wanted new road generally ineffi cient, so I photographed it as if it were a country I may not ever see again. I swear you?” I laugh. “No,the she sun says, was ‘Like this,”seasonal and dirtshe demonstratedroad through ahow farm you in centralski on yourNew leftYork , it could handle this. We passed the National Tractor Trailer School, where a lone student on quicker and quicker, bowing as soon as the applause began. people who built things (stores and such) here still work those same things. We did a show hard and we Buff alove all day long. our relationship is something really an eerie silence. Th e deep crunch of each footstep became an alarm drawing the hidden understand the sandbox because I wasn’t out of it yet. sat in the cab of a rig in the parking lot (I hope he got an A).along on the the water’sopposite edge; side however,of the road, he we never passed suggested a fenced-in we sitlot under—orfull of tanks even of some near—the sort. being in the “city of neighbors” but I like to believe they all heldat Medaille a deep- today. I am an actor on seateda tour- aff bringing ection playsfor about3. issues to the college youth.A dead pottednot left plant in mysits onwallet? the porch Who anddid itI offis hardly end? seenWhat anymore. stupid stuff It’s an did ugly I say?thing, Is athis spindly really skeleton what inspecial shades and of Igray have it allto tobreak thank up to with Sweetness_7, his, and I thehad setting not been where in amy rela- two worlds collided. eyes sleeping in the windows onto me. Th e darkness and silence,tionship lack of movement,brighter there, and and the lines in the road were more blinding. Th ey were a tall grass to which my eye was un- leg to the tree, do aaccustomed. ballet move backwards to the other side and ski through on your right willow trees. I will never know if it was a conscientious avoidance; he didn’t notice my gaze Around midnight things advancedthat place further. as well. No In longer the end, resigned we left to it accepting with our ourbest approvalattempt at artwork and a simple message: and beige. It gently overfl ows its potI am down doing a fl at ight 28 yearsof three old? steps My like stomach the aged feels hair as thoughof a neglected it has endured Rapunzel. a Itsdecent unglazed amount clay pot is often mistaken for nearly three years. Th ings were looking up though, When I fi rst moved to West ferry Street in Buff alo, I spent a moment attending to my leg. Hilarious! Th e little tree she did Wethis hadtoo nowas idea impressed what was too in and them, giggled. but it It recalled dropped memories a of a video we once saw on tv of dozens of gas tanks exploding, so we loved it. It might My roommate interrupts my thoughts with talk of Jack Black in Tropic Th under. But the absence of power coursing through the city suddenly made it an uncomfortableIn the privatewinter, the land is so clean and white, but that which bleaches my parking lot infl ates the muscles that let us be worth noting that it doesn’t take much to entertain us.pulling often toward the drooping canopies. He also didn’t seem to be a fan of PDA—or with grace, the passers-by“Live began Buff to alo” perform. or “Love It startedBuff alo.” with It’s some entirely posing dependent and progressed on how you see it. for an oversized ashtray. It is as familiarof dirty to Rollingyou as theRock, face so of I amust friend have whose spent features at least you a few no minuteslonger see at thein lieu Pub. of Irecognizing can only the“oh, whole. you’re It stays interviewing at least for for Buff me. alo Th unscripted?”e night before, said theme, Bozo,owner Teddy,of five Points Bakery to place I was intruding on. and mailbox. It was a bit of an event for me, this little black box with delightful curled ends four inch high pile from its upper branches right behind Mags. on a moonlight night the maybe it was that he wasn’t much of a fan of me. over the next couple hours to singing, dancing, miming, the occasional display of bosoms, my mind returns to Jeanine the counselor at Medaille andseated, what sheevery said day, about on your Buff every alo. thereimagine and back, the embarrassing but you don’t things seem toI probably see it anymore. slurred to some poor young4. Buff State girl. I “Sothe she customer goes, ahead ‘It ofour me good in line. friend “Th Steve en you Irwin get ahad free been loaf outof bread!” at Mr. “Really?” she Goodbar cross what has turnedin the into front a suburban hall. It appealed tundra. onceto me thefor wintera number dimension of reasons. has first,fallen, I ama new irrevocably route must in lovebe illusion is a perfect establishedsnow koan to whoever is walking their dog. [Transcribed from my red work journal] Dearest Quinoa, In the midst of a menial task, around glaciers built by plows and patches of ice polished by the gentle morning sun. Th ose who must and those who dare are then forced to As we approached the Irish Propane Corporation, appropriately nestled in the lush greenery of this tiny peninsula jutting into the Buff alo River, and fi nally, mooning. Th e number of concurrent performers also increased over time. for She said a beautiful phrase- which I at 1:42am cannot remember-should bebut back she theredescribed for me. how My daughterprobably called found and some put mouseyit on hold girl three with weeks glasses ago. and It’ll told either her shebe underhad “specs Cheryl, appeal.” Natalie, I bet Jackie, I orsaid. Paul. It had an and we started playing pool with this gorgeous With all the passages blocked, I drove fi ve miles to fi nd mylesbian destination only four blocks with the art of sending letters. In moments of poorer judgment I envision myself making the road started to become oddly overrun with nature. WeYears didn’t later, really with know a second the lay gentleman, of the land, I butshould quickly, have thesensed buildings early onthinned that the out relationship and trees the majoritycaught in of some the night middle it would realm bewhere one atall athe time, better but partsby the of end my therepast converge,would be threeI realized or I wantedBuff alo you as basically: a placeto know of good about neighbors. the city. Now allow me to romanticize… *I would asked someone if they wanted to go home with me to eat macaroni and cheese and cuddle. and her male friend who probably did some mod- away. Th e labyrinth of passageways, so familiar they may as welleling have for been atrudge long one-way through thea wildcareer plains of opening of snow, a carving “Little outLetter clear Store” paths whereof struggle I would from do Elmwood nothing tobut Delaware. write letters We continued down Bidwell past the new Griffi s sculpture- more people celebrating the was doomed when it took too much coaxing just to arrange a walk in the park. finally, In its gilded age, the city was home to nearly 60 millionaires. Th is was the time of the Pan-American Exposition; the time when orange-ish, red-ish, maybe brown-ish red-ish cover, I think?’ and then tells me to hold on for fi ve minutes while she calls her daughter.”“Really!” he answered. “We posted it on our facebook wall. Everyone who participates snow- arms raised high and dancing...took We over—or, were thinking at the veryabout least, taking the thebuildings sidewalks became on hidden by the onset of plants. Th e old, worn silo of another type of plant, I suppose, passed four inebriated performers vying for our attention. In all fairness, as our beer supply slowly have fi nished this sentence but I was interrupted again- lost“okay, train that’sof thought- nothing. too I hadmuch a guy Iask wonder me if what we had kind a ofMitch shit IAlbom talked sectionabout everyone’s today. Like, bands, why but yes that sir, Ilet don’t me actuallyshow you mean. right where we keep this old Navy. Having no sexual prospects with this street, suddenly were scrambled into a new city. With every rhythmlesbian, suppressed, corridors for people who just couldn’t fi nd the time- a sort of personal shopper for sentiment and us by as we bounced over another track crossing. Th e Cargillhe agreed silos to poked walk aroundup in the the near ring distance. “just once” up withahead, me. there As I waspulled another, his hand a fi offnal crossingthe path, McKinley was shot and Teddy Roosevelt assumed the role of President of the unitedenergy States to of try and fi nd America.way back*... Teddy, a man known gets a free loaf of fresh cinnamon raisin bread. Because we love this project and want collapsed, and aff ectation fl attened, the fl avored sensation experiencedJust mixed as suddenly cold and as I came upon the eye of the lot, I lose it and again I must navigate around live and dead metal toDelaware, wash up on or theRichmond sidewalk uptown shore. to Jimmy Mac’s but we had crossed Elmwood at Bird dwindled, our applause moved from polite clapping to shouting and cheering with a stand- critically acclaimed author, he’s gotHell, the whole I might shelf have to evenhimself.” cried a little at some “oh point. man. Really, Well, Iat hope least Iyou just didn’t sat in havea dark a kidcorner ask you ifeveryone we carried to come.”for I had no qualms telling her how pretty she was. She acted I once concluded asalutations. tale of an experience In slow seasons I had Iroad-tripping would write outin New quotes England from forgottenwith “every books time and I go send somewhere them beautiful and I look over the edge, before the road ended. But there was something on it. toward one of trees, he let go just as we got under the canopy. I hinted how quiet and ing ovationfor championing thrown in the every construction now and againof the for Erie good Canal measure. and threatening As the mooning the sovereignty became of the Philip- pines. Th e same period claims alone and was grumpy most of the night. As I ponder, I scratch my scalp and the dust of very fl attered and as the two of them were leaving, emergency that bit at both sides of the skin, fearing one may beshe lost. wrote Th is could have been off anonymously to unsuspecting mailboxes around the world. It would be written up and it looked quiet and then we saw how great and snowy Elmwood still was, so we romantic I thought the trees were. He kept his pace, walking directly across the diameter, the early years of frank Lloyd Wright’s career. Th ree of his projects, as well as countless collaborations with other giants of architecture, pepper whom the Bell Told today.” “ouch.” “Yeah. Th is you?” “Yeah. See ya tomorrow. Bike safe.” it’s a parking lot,” and the room burst out in laughter while I silently mourned the loss of those bits of the originalskied universe. right Nowup the the center parking most lots of the ten blocks to the bar. Th ere was nothing but thick, more and more frequent, it became apparent that it was time to close up shop. Th at was the 5. You start cheapat the bigpomade red door. clouds You’re the air.greeted by the park – yellow in the summer, green in the fall, gray inTrue the winter, story. Itand happened down when her Inumber was fi lming and handed in Buff it alo to inme, 2011 saying, for the aforementioned Sandusky, Cleveland, or Sheboygan. “ Y o u have won, and theyin want the New not myYork sympathy, Times: Th but e myLittle soul. Letter I am Shop here, Inspires a creature Peace of andthe wildernessProductivity that by hasPost. beckoned me from just over the edge. I slowed the car down to a crawl, or perhaps I stopped. I don’teven really though recall. I tried Despite to stall staring a little. at Iit, tugged it took one me stranda few seconds of leaves, to longingly,comprehend as I that,also exitedyes, fi rstthe occurrence landscape of of what the region.was to Tobecome the north known of asElmwood, Th e Audience a neighborhood Game. of trattorias, bars andTHIS locally IS unEDITED. owned businesses, 1:59am lies Delaware We had stopped Park. It backwas in our hotel. at 1:42am. my room- Buff alo unscripted, shouldan online call documentaryme.” It suddenly project occurred from the to meNational that Trust for Historic maybe compacted tracks on the avenue, andI wasalmost defi zero nitely brown seeing sugar. something, Nothing and to then,do but yes, glide I understood that calm its shape. space, It too was soon. a deer. Th Bute experience it was entirely was disappointingwhite. and confusing… exactly like designed by olmsted, the man behind inexplicable wonder of Central Park. Pathways weave through the grass patches, fl ower beds and playing brown in the spring. Th e trees standIn defeat, in four I rows,crash myplanted head diagonally back down like onto theater the seats.old fl That pillow.ere, past I stretch parked carsmy legs with in orangethis tickets tucked into 2. Th is state of emergency still lingers today, only as some adulter- Second, having a mailbox, one that has my name written across it in thick print, one that and move a bit for the few cars. Near the universalist Church at ferry we did have to get mate was to smoke some weed. Me too. Now we return towindshields, the streets ofthe Buff park alo. is to To the go left. Past the cunty dogs in their fenced-in yard on the corner of Ashland. Past the stop for the 26. AtPreservation. the corner, you she had been joking about her sexual orientation. I told Steve Irwin whatated had residuehappened that and can’t he seemsaid sheto bewas washed defi nitely away. joking, Th e andmorning I trust after,Steve the stormfor me, cleanup Buff alo is the middle of nowhere, a lonely outpost on the very outskirts of civilization. It’s an oasis. floating between the nothingness the rest of that relationship. Th roughfi elds theleading end toof rocks,the year, tree weclumps would and play meanderingTh e Audience bodies Game of water. every Nestledfew weeks, between some- the parkdancing. and Elmwood:) Village3:46am is the Albright-Knox. (“whose that guy…?” It is the “He’s the guy that no one knows!”) king size bed occupied by one single jester. Almost immediately the loneliness sets in and more than just about anybody. Th is was of course fresh on my mind as we sat down at a table in Gordon’s, listening to the frat boys at the bar of I-90 between ExitI can 49 reach and Syracusemy hand (a into drive every that day, takes means a man I really straight live to here. insanity Th is if is he exciting lets it) forand someone the wine countryto the side,to the but southwest, that sidewalk it has up a pastI thestared Crane quizzically Library forwas a good- moment. then Th we ehit fi rstthe thoughtstreet that entered my head once I established it was a real sight was, “Who would put that on times with only four or fi ve in attendance, sometimes with a crowd of fi fteen to twenty. press the button, wait for the light, Iand curl cross up and to the embrace big glass the door. comforter You’re as there tightly and as then I can. you I wish leave. that Back, she past was antshere, fi but ghting I am over candy in sidewalk began, but landscapes ended. for a short time, landscapes became a wasted investment. who has had enough addresses in her lifetime to map the scattered abodes of a small village. again for the next two blocks. the railroad tracks?” Th e only reality my brain could fall back on—since this was a bright white deer—was that it was a statue or gigantic lawn sixth oldest art gallery in the country. It is known for having one of everything--truly a diverseJust returnedcollection from of classical kristine’s and cafe contemporary for the second masters. time. (the fi rstcracks, time thebeing park when is to she the gave right. me Past the McGarrett’s smoking patio. Past the dude bros on the second-fl oor balcony on the corner fiveof Delavan.Points Bakery You wascomparing just one theirof our brackets. meet-up locations, and this was just one affi rming sense of freedom to it, one that says anything goes in this dying industrial town. It’s self-contained, and the people that come see it only as a sign I am still always excited and gleeful when I see patches of a blanket or human heaps under Th e“Have most interestingyou seen the part cardinal?” about the Sarah whole asked thing me. is that We each were game on ourprogressed fi rst real in thedate, exact even thoughthis assignment- I’d already orslept off overered onceme this and assignment kissed her oron giftedthe me this assignment) It was a very glad that she is not. I would want her to scratch my back, comfort me, and tell me how moment of many throughout the project, but it captures why I fell truly/madly/deeply Why spend one’s money on something that will only be destroyed. on the way to the Ifalls. feel asWhat though I’m I’m trying either to constantlysay, rather fiinelegantly, ling a change is that of noaddress one form,wants orto callinggo to Bufffriends alo. or Th is may seem like a complaint, but ornament of some sort (I can’t explain the way my brain thinks).the willow Th trees.en it Imoved. know couples are sharing secrets and making promises! Did olmsted same fashion, completely independent of who was involved. As the blood alcohol content end at the big red door, back. everything wasn’t that bad. She would try to repair my broken self esteem, and tell me that family to make sure a letter I was expecting didn’t end up at their house, which may or may Th ey stared at us when we entered. Th ere were maybe only fi fteen people at the bar at neck at the end of a bar on a Wednesday. I hadn’t seen it. Th e painting, as she describedshort stop it, in is before a comical I returned interaction home. betweenI came in a soakingcardinal from head to toe. I had been danc- in Buff alove. Not becauseWhen theI’m gamesa carb started,addict, webut startedbecause debating I’m a community whether or addict. not John And McCain Th ewas, community, in fact, the of Devil.course, Teddy gelled wasand quitecame convincedtogether in the a neighborlyold bastard way – really,as so it’shappens not...at least, not entirely. this time of night. By the time we putClay our noticed skis in itthe after corner I did, a althoughfew people I’m at not the too bar sure had how longintend after. to createTime sloweda park withas I tried capsules to piece perfectly together suited what for was intimacy? going on. folklore It’s an ofalbino willow deer? trees of thecooking audience dinner and performersand a man increasedabout to eat.and Apparently,the hour got the later, expression there would on the be achef’s standard face indicatesing at some KBGB trepidation (BGKB or toward GBBK feeding or GGBB) the spoonful a bar down of the Throad. ursday I had Nightsbeen informedI go to open by micI atam Mergea good person. Th e Inlast reality, Saturday I probably of the deservemonth I tobreak feel likedance shit. at VerveShe never deserved to ThBuff e third alo isSunday my new drug.was an alright guy, but he wasn’t fooling me or Bozo. Pretty soon, in walked Baloo the Bear, who just so happened to be in the neighborhood. not have been at some point my house. Mostly, the aff ection I feel for my new mailbox is often describe sitting beneath its boughs as a sacred space of contemplation or wisdom. progression of those outside the gallery walls from confusion to more and more elaborate with any storm severe enough to give neighbors the day off from work. ISoon was followedsurprised during the summer of my second year in the area when a college friend of mine drove in for a visit.already I mean, raised he a glasstold meto us. he Thwas e bartenderAlbino thoughtdeer are ita thing?was hilarious- Yes, they I toldmust him be ahe thing, could of course they’re a thing. Th e buck noticed us. It started to move slowly toward the woods, god knows what to his unsuspecting guest. the bartenders at Mulligan’s (YEA THEY RECoMMENDof CoSTuMERS every month there To isTHEIR swing dancinghave at to the put Hamlin up with House it. It is good that sheAnd left. everyShe is Monday much better something than this. special Th happense past few at Blue Monk He took off his headphones and we exchanged hellos. I asked what he wascommunity listening tosymposiums and he told on me the it statewas a ofpodcast the trees, called which Radiolab. I performed He told at, without a fee, less about the box and more about my wonder at having a permanent physical place of my and we responded by inching forward in my car. He didn’tStories seem ensurebothered that by tears us; it shed picked beneath at the the ground trees’ as canopy it moved. will Someonebe wiped poeticaway andcould concerns have performing to eventual mooning. Th e same way every time. months have been one self sabotage after another, trying to push her away from sinking My colleagues and I methought about we the were story crazy they when were we telling, ended perhaps fi lming about and experienceda scientist studying sud- a snake or something...I mean, every episode of Radiolab has scientists coming—he didn’town just after show 5 up—butyears of moving more surprisingly and traveling he aroundwanted diff to comeerent andnooks see of the the city. world. My Thlittle, at little laughed-at try my city. skis No but one I doubtedever did. he’d Th is,fi t into my size seven and a half boots so that wasn’t gonna will be lifted off your shoulders. once you are under the canopy you feel a sense of undi- I still haven’t seen it. I’m always there for short periods, and until obtaining membership status,CoMPETIToRS!!!???) had been relegated thatto the KGBG lower waslevels. the bar to end up at.Sometimes When I fi my rst friendsgot, after go Iwith had me Sometimes I go alone Never leave that way though I’mden, in acute love separation with anxiety from a city where we’d spent only 11 days. What about this happy to oblige. In a way, it was my 15 minutes of fame being the only resident certifi ed happen. I told him he could rent atdrawn Campus a good Wheelworks metaphor and from that seeing raised it—probably an eyebrow. something about this ghostly white animal haunting the area where there used to be so much paid my 5 dollar cover, I walked into a bar that looked likethis any city other bar. No spaceMonday to nightwith thisI went dead to Blueweight. Monk As Iwith was theabout usual to crew:drown Stacy, in a LoPro,river of Cutler, Genny, Jenn, I wanted and Taylor. to watch DJ Cutler and LoPro on and snakes, don’t they? arborist in the city of Buff alo. Work was happening everywhere. Assessmentsthough, and invento- this really hunkmeant of something. metal is my He strange wanted claim to come to place. hang out for a few days and check out the area. oh, the joy I felt. vided attention; there is a muting of the world outside, so your thoughts and expressions Th eTh Audience e sculpture Game in themade courtyard a few appearances was always in my2012 mecca and anyway.never really I tried come to togetherdescribe itagain and could only think of “bovine swirls.” You’ll see one day. her fl oat on to a better world. old Rust Belt town was calling us home? Ah yes- always trying to encourage theindustry—but natives to earn I don’t their know alcohol if I’m and the enjoy one tothe do great so without many more hours of thought. So I’ll just throw in the phrase “think about it: genetic the way it did in those fi rst few months. And now that sp@ce 224 is up for sale, it may dance, cramped and small. uTTER DISSAPoINTMENT.the But ones right and when twos, Ithis had is givenElmwood not Chippewa so there was only funk to be heard. Jenn gyrated, Taylor twisted, Stacy styled, and I was bugged Baloo and Teddy got talking more about politics while Bozo and I started discussingries needed an to upcoming be made. Thconcert. e urban We forest, were alwaysit was said,playing was shows in great back peril, in it wasSo arborgedon. we made our plans,Today and was in a August, small victory he fi fornally the was Postal able Serviceto make and it outa veritable to Buff joy-bombalo. We did for all me: the threetop touristylet- snow.things Hethat saidthe he’dcity tryhas itto someday off er, by nowmutation?” that he could and goa coy rent shrug right that there continues and take “no them really, to thinkof aboutlove exist it.” safely within the dome of gently leaves. It is as if each feathery leaf has sworn stay Sometimesthat way. But when if you’ve I’m writing ever been this, applauded I’m at the as hospital. you walked In other down moments, Allen by aI bunchsit in the of airportup terminal,hope another coming room- or going,a crazy and octagonal watch thedark baggage cave of soundout. and We lights- were allappeared deeply outin tune of withI need the night. to think about And thensomething I saw him,else, soslumped I focus onover recovery. at the bar, I had and been completely here before. out Th of ereplace. HeI wouldn’t was a bigger have put mythose fi ngerdays, on at itSoundlab, if I hadn’t Mohawk, just fi nished Merlin’s, reading and Ththis e nextSocial show Animal: was at Th e Nietzsche’s.olmstead Baloo profi said ted he the wanted most, to as go without check outthe thestorm, sale atmany New mayWorld, not soremember which his I meanname. Niagara ters greetedfalls. Back me withinthis morning the city as limits, I ran outI took the him door. to I thewill City say thatHall I observationget a fair amount deck (possiblyof mail myDelaware favorite place Park. ever), As expected the Anchor we were two whiskeys (forgot to ask for the coff ee part) into allegiance to cherish all they’ve heard and witnessed under their wing. drunkardshandlers behind play basketballa window, on you the were tarmac. a very I’m important fi nding thatpart ofdespite what mademy nomadic that gallery tendencies, a nowhere.there are elementsWith a full of stagemy identity and a DJand spinning community and bodiesthat onguy; the wore dance a blackfl oor. hoodie, All kinds black of pants,had andbeen a manyweary nights face. Now, lived usuallytrying to I saymake hi tosure everyone, there was but no I morningpassed on after. him. However, I didn’t pass it out Hiddenof fear. ISources passed of Love,we left Character, Gordon’s and and Achievement Bozo and I got by aDavid good Brooks.head start on Baloo and Teddy.To I toldheal, Bozo trees about were plantedthis idea in I hadall the for parksthe show, and whereaffl uent in between neighborhoods. songs ConditionsBar (always werebetter thatthan are I expect), not bills- Ted’s probably (of course), far more the thanPearl average, Street Brewery but three (there’s all at oncea theme was here, a mini-marvel. I can sense it). itWe when stumbled Doug acrossand crew some arrived. gems My car struggled briefl y trying to get over the bump of the rails, but we made it. Clay and I were totally silent as we pulled parallel to the albino out of respect. Th is man had possibly hit an all-time low, so it seemed. He had no idea that this was not the bar for a beer and silent refl ection, at buck, drinking it in. Th e animal now made its way furtherSo, intoI do walkthe brush in the nextpark, to and the scanroad. the Everything trees—without about intruding—hopingit but its black eyes there’sand nose a couple was legendaryhave started place in to the solidify. minds of Th a smallough it’scrowd. not a selling point, I think you should know about Dynguscrazy paintings Day. Th ande Polish posters, population pictures inand the shapes city celebrates covering the dark walls. out of nowhere never worked out that way. So now I knew what to expect. Th e anxiety, depression, and re- Drawing on the wideI would fi eld throwof brain candy science, and cigarettesBrooks explores into the howcrowd. our We unconscious had a good im- laugh aboutso bad it, fEMA then decided was brought it was somethingin. To make I absolutely us Buff alo had again, to do. “Malcolm We were Pierney,”too, likespecialists the Tiff t MoreNature impressive Preserve andyet wasBroderick that not Park. one It ofwas the a grandletters time. came in a standard form; one friend beneath, embracing or locked in a kiss. It thrills my heart to know someone is enjoying their cultural identity every year by dancing to techno polka, drinking beer and eating sausage.appeared To distinguish this totally themselves other world. from Th otherat’s what cream buff Euro- alo has beenleast like till fornow. me today. Every Th time e musicgret played. were all standard Th e staples bar fi lledof my up. “sadovers.” Thonly e bloodbrave danced.was a newer addition, Jenn gyrated. but I guess Taylor twisted, Stacy styled, in disaster relief, similar to Haliburton, were brought in to manage. Calls went out to had folded and taped her envelope till I wasn’t quite sure which end to open from, while Th e route back was a crystal path downperfectly Richmond, white, even former its small back antlers pastures were of pale. the Somehow,man- we were able to snap some pictures of it as it grazed while still keeping an eye on us. We I was leaning desperately on the empty door frame of our kitchen, laughing so hard that pacts all aspects of ourlaughing life, from and academicstalking so loudlyto politics and toenthusiastically neighborhoods. that At we one didn’t point, notice when the yelling behind us began. Back when Clay and I were in college, one of our favorite pastimes was to go driving in the vast countrysidesions surrounding on Delaware, our andtiny aschool, beautiful treewere lined making avenue as few of trees.movements Th ank and you as fredericklittle noise Law as possible, that intimatehoping that space, we evenwouldn’t if I have scare never. it away. pean folks, the women chase the men around with pussy willow branches. I took my best Icompadre think I have to itCentral pinned, Terminal something to witnesspops out, just some such restaurant, an and some I was architectural still bugged structure, out. it is nice to spiceCoke things Escovedo up once sangin a while.from theI knew speakers, very well “I wouldn’t that these change things, a alongthing withif I had tohe live talks my about life all the “shallow view” society shaped by a 20th century emphasis on material arborists around the country and they streamed in from far and wide. I never got a call, another was printed with Kipling-era jungle animals, elegantly bordered by maroon stripes tearsoccasion. were wildly While leaking the festivities out of my were eyes. mild She if wasn’tnot pathetic, about theto stop building though, is a beaconeven though in its post-apocalypticSoME PERSoN glory. Apops mammoth out and trainin a small station, way stranded I am transported. over.” ItI lookedseems like up Buffand gavealo awas nod ofsome appreciation slight agoraphobia, to the DJs would because be that keeping song me says in what my room feel about for about this life,the nextand it48 made hours. the I people dance. As we Baloo was screaming at Teddy, and I started to laugh because I was sure thatin factthey I were never kidding. had one See, single in the paying six months job out since of the I hadwhole moved crisis, to which Buf- seemsand odd since being exploring great stretches of empty spaces was one of our favorite things, naturally a drive around Buffolmsted! alo was necessary. As usually I spent the better part of my undergraduate years at Buff alo State. Hoyt Lake is by far my she had started to crack up too. development that ultimately broke down the “social and emotional development that happened on one andof these a hand-pasted journeys, weelephant set out whose not knowing trunk pointed what we’d upward, fi nd announcing or where we’d the endopening up. It fl wasap. aI bright, beautiful afternoon, and the We scared it away. or, I guess more accurately, it lost interest in us and wandered off . in the middle of a forgotten neighborhood, waits for rehabilitation. In the meantime, fi ne madeart majors by a bunchuse it for of theirpeople thesis who projects. just started off building.-beat brides shit. it wentseems deeper to be fiinto lled the with night people, James Brown’swill stare “Get at the up ceiling off that and thang” think wayplayed. too So much. the dancers If this Manchesterappropriately Place began apartment grabbing wasn’t people andunderpins bringing it.”them falo, I had never seen either of them truly upset about anything. But now Ithe saw city’s real only rage arborist.in Baloo as he yelled obscenities at the nonchalant Teddy sat on my front steps with the small fortune of words in my lap and felt impossibly pleased. favorite place in Buff alo; it has been the backdrop for a slew of life’s events. Hoyt Lake gather for photos in front of burned out windows and crumbling tiles. Rick James is awho native. like create MC and Hammer make shit. was And seen they three ain’t weeksalways agowaiting orto wonderingthe dance fl if oor.it makes Th at’s sense. when it happened. I watched him go from hopeless to hope-fi lled. He got up and started moving his massive body to the Ruxpin, who seemed to think he had done no wrong. I found out later that he had told Baloo that his entire Buff State education was a waste Buff alo sun shone down intensely to the point that Clay made me close my sunroof. Th e world was our oyster,Everyone and 33 drinks was theon thedoorway patio toat a sunsetBut in while midsummer. driving away Backs and slunk for weeksagainst later, forest I’d green recall whatwas happened, practically and in myI’m backyardconvinced so I it could holds never a number see that of memoriesin a larger for city me. or Someone that are wasgreat, “I watched one climb up that thing, climbing vertically, right up into the air, to get to the haunted by the old woman that died upstairs, it sure was haunted by half a decade of my But, I was close to the operation. Each morning it snowed for the months to come during 69 chairs, some more comfortable than others, we expect very little. Presently: craft beer, breading.entering And Erie it just County sat in Medicalthere. And Center. it started playing in You it. Likecan buy it was an taking abandoned a bath. city-owned ooh, ithouse feels forlike a this dollar. place was made in a Ifever. recently And movedin that fevermusic they movedthe best faster, way he and knew drew how. Thown ere misadventures. were so many forpeople the dancingnext two I couldn’tdays I wouldeven see surviving Jenn, Taylor on the or sustenanceStacy. So I closedof tap my eyesother and forces I danced were at andwork that too: he should have gone to uB, which infuriated Baloo because it was too late, it was too critical, there was no reason for the comment, and long afternoon of sightseeing.Th e letters struck me, not just for their honesty and craft, but for the strange way in thriving. Maybe it’s my own delusions since I truly do lovesome Buff are…notalo for all sothe great. reasons My people very fi rstmake date fun in of it,Buff but alo in wasa place to see with Shakespeare more people, in themore Park, to my own space, away from coworkers and toward a house on Atlantic Avenue. I occupy wilder-two adjacent and still rooms do. Noton the apologizing. third fl oor: a bedroom Proud.and Likethe Kristinenight to said.day. As the night ended, as they all do, the euphoria began to fade. I needed to leave so I could hold that night in my memory. Teddy always made these insensitive comments without remorse. the clean up, I plowed out “Malcom Pierney’s” trucks. It was the only work I had, a snow which they all were somehow talking about the same thing: place. I should say that the good company, appetites frozen by a reasonsstrong desireto drive to around,tell stories—an more bustling imminent industry, feeling I ofdon’t knowand aif poignant I could have break-up ever seen also somethinghappened there.like that. An old roommate and I would often meet some cornmeal behind my little rat ears? oh, yes please.” water and plain fl our tortillas. I think I might have some almonds. Time would be passed Th e cultural revolution broke down old habits and traditional family structures. removal contract at Th e Mansion on Delaware, Buff alo’s most prestigious I andfi rst recognized took him to explore a bit of downtown, then around the harbor and arena area, and we worked our way out complacencyto the Central broughtTerminal. about Driving by a mutual desire to relax. We are friends, relatively speak- studio. When I moved my belongings from Brooklyn I had to drive 7 hours back to theAt city. KBGB I switched I danced rental for carsclose at to the two airport hours. and I am went came to with Ia made friend my but rounds then he and left. gave And my goodbyeswatching but full when seasons I came of Howto him, I Methe cried. Your He Mother, leaned or closely New toGirl, me orso anyI could easy hear distraction him over the music, “Th ank down William Street,letters we werelamented sent howfrom parts three of women the city whomhad fallen I love nearly but to haven’t ruin. I seenexpressed in some my convictiontime. one that the buildings could be beautiful there to run a few laps and catch up. on warm nights during freshman year, I’d sit on a He immediatelyWal-Mart to interjectedbuy painters from tape. across I had the purchased dining room 3 buckets table-- of “You latex never paint toldin Peacock me that! Blue, GrannyI just fl Smithung my and arms Moonstone and legs Chalkboard.around. Th e I spacepainted brought you the guys. moves You out don’t of knowme. Violent what this night did for me.” He said while squeezing my hand. “I had such a bad day just wanted have a beer before I In a heartbeat my whole vision of Buff alo was shattered. Th is city had seemedlodging soat theutopian time. to I couldn’t me when pay I fi myrst arrived.taxes that It year was and where still young haven’t people paid my credit card wandered its way to Buff alo from Ethiopia, one from the West Coast, while the last came ing, with each other, those rigid chairsonly hoisting later usdid up I learnwith aboutall of their the Seneca might. white deer whose habitathill with is some so relatively of the exchange close to the students, city, down talk aboutthe emptiness our cultures of 90, and but forge in a newway friendships.I want to currently streaming on Netfl ix. Th e never ending sea of free internet pornography will be Th e economic revolutiongot part replaced time jobs downtowns at Mighty with Taco sprawl. or Spot and spent the rest of their time readingdebt, but, fascinating so is the lifebooks of thefrom self-employed. Rust Belt, piled high on every surface of if they were only renovated. Clay, glancing between old, solitary brick buildings that used to be stores and probably once had windows, wasn’t so pretend it could only happen in this city. It could be that things like this happen here because no one visits, not even wandering wildlife. Awesome I NEVERall night would and intohave the eaten early there.” hours of Monday. My entire body was blue. It took two coats. weird crazy Icolorful don’t really moves. waste A manmy time dancing with it Brooklyn out lol. But I neverwent homefelt judged. and you “Weirdness” guys… Th ankmy you.” companion He continued. every couple of hours. I mightTh ese evenare memoriesget caught worth in some having, void memoriesof reading painted with the color- from a home, which had at one point felt like my own, in Vermont. A web of thoughts one playful sentence, one broken act is all that separates us from sorrow. Th e common Sometimes I’d go there alone when I needed to cry. I tell you this because my emotional ful people in this city. I remember telling Stacy about this guy as we walked to the car. “I’m glad I came out tonight.Th eMan, information I love revolutionthe apartment, replaced recording face-to-face hours community worth of songs organizations on four-track and recorders, instead drinking 22oz. Labatt cans from Wilson farms, smoking terrible fl avored sure about that. from there, we backtracked to the harbor and crossed the old iron bridge over the river so we could drive around by the General things happen in Buff alo, but outsiders cut themselves off from it and no one knows about what happens behind the snow and misfortune and “Well,anymore. it all went We movedinto the into fryer a formeranyway. crackhouse I’m sure anything in south Bushwickthat bubbled two around weeks ago.in that Sometimes (which you can might be fieasily nd yourselfreplaced holding by “misunderstood onto your kittens brilliance” - not that I am calling my the blogs of young porn stars. feeling weird pangs of jealousy as I look at photos of them 3. Th e few who have heard or read my writing knowMills of this plant. place, (It smelledall landing like Cheerios in Buff thatalo. day.) We ducked down towards Tiff t and ran around its tiny hills for pedestriana while. Th accident. en it was Th time at fordamn the car, in the road where it belonged. Th at now dead dog, connection to this place is so strong and it is the catalyst for the story below: for body warmth in a half-constructed room with no walls or ceiling. Anyway, don’t wastedancing your time “misunderstood with Brooklyn. brilliance” ) Iis dreamtaccepted thatopenly I in BuffBuff alo.alo.” I concluded. Buff alo is. left people alone in smaller,cigars, and more having self-selecting, endless discussions more identical about communities. politics, philosophy, (As Brooks and how fucking amazing Kid A is and why. Suddenly it occurred to me that the bad football. I’m happy to spread that secret, though, even if no one believes me. grease for ten minutes died a very disgusting death.” hanging out in downtown Los Angeles. Tormenting myself by wishing I were younger, jobs were temporary and unwanted, the books were unread, and the songsSweetness went unheard. 7, that I=Was often the write drinking of to discuss the only the thingarchitectural that remained turbulence real? in emotionalold first forms. Ward. It Sometimesmay not sound as I searchtoo exciting to situate to any myself local, in but this for new us, city,it was—not I forget ahow thrill, often but everyonea good time. else running into the street with a rich, uncalculated playfulness. It was 2008 and I was on a walk around the lake with a friend. We’d simultaneously spot- sent you all a batch of pot brownies. Just don’t be surprised. Sometimes the unexpected consequencesBig. Small. Boring.of lucid Crazy.dreaming Just involve what you a bit expected. of diffi Exactlyculty what you didn’t expect. Empty. more attractive, not alone, and out in the sun. No music actually sounds good right now. puts it, “like found like.”) Its neighborhood, as I have suggested, has been re-built with an embodiment of green It was either May or June, I am not entirely sure, but I remember that it was warm enough to hop on my bike and ride with some friends down- “Th inat distinguishingdoesn’t make it thoughts any better!” from His reality. face Sometimesmade sure weI workknew inhe my was sleep still andoff ended.then wake up onlyfull ofto Motherflippers.work some more. Kind. often Big I dreamHearted of (evenyou. if the chest Realmight names not seem have grand been enoughchanged to more fun names. I had never been inaround the Ward, me isso also I had struggling no idea towhat make to expect.sense of Th place is wasand evident how to by make the factit, keep that it,I broughtreject or my carI would face to like face to with think the thatdozens he (orof she) died painlessly, but who’s to say? folded limbs, a ted the artless graffi ti on the cement dike near the smelly part toward Delaware Avenue. I may decide to be a total cliche and wallow in a bunch of Elliot Smith. Maybe some over All these combined toAnd dissolve when the I asked “webs myself of relationship” that question, that I gave thought, society “Well, a deeper, that works!”richer and localness. It isn’t just Sweetness, there is an entire collaboration of entrepreneurs that rejoice in it. Th e manifestations of place are sometimes agonizingly diverse, wherein we town. None of us were really sure what we were going toTh do ethat whole night, thing but started fi gured with there one was of enoughus off eringgoing a onsarcastic that we“really??” could fi andgure thesomething other just I suppose what I wanted you to know is this: You can drink a gallon of beer for a nickel.to hold it). MyIt leaves roots me seem with to bemore sinking. questions than answers.It Th was e a brightmost important but cold afternoon.one be- Methe and counter my buddies, sleeping Bozo pills theand Clown Portishead and Teddy will help Ruxpin, me nap had it just off wrapped. Maybe upif I browsing can fi nd every any CD at New World retro-fi tted a catholic elementary school, originally constructed in 1921, so thatrailroad classrooms tracks laid in the asphalt. I really don’t know how the rig drivers do it there, but hey, more power to them.crushed torso, lifeless paws disappearing into a clump of mangled fur—all indicators of I got myself together enough to add, “Did you ever see it when they would saunter out social fabric. And withBaloo those and webs Teddy disintegrated, made peace. people’s Bozo andsocial I bought capital tonsdiminished of CDs andfrom New World. I met the love of my life, who had no ambiguity about her fi nd ourselves contending with the fact that every place we go and everything we interact a truth that we all fail to admit. If it out.happened Th ey fastwere enough, having whya dance should party it atmatter Mohawk that itPlace, sounderstood we stopped – therewe both but loveddid not this want park. to ourpay theconversation cover. We continuedrode a little despite ways andthe interjec-bought Lets get in a hammock and catch up. Yours, Cumin ing: Where did all this people come from?Record (In response and we decidedto the fact to thatmosey onenergy down at Delaware all I will to give Gordon’s Damaged for a couplespin, ya of know pints andTh irsty popcorn, and asMiserable well as toand catch all. a Mostlittle ofbit of thethey early were rounds left rootless. could become living quarters with lunch-box sized hot water heaters. A rain-garden has forties. Riding back, we went to the top of the parking garage adjacent to Mohawk and watched the people mill in and out of the dance party into the dining room when it was quiet? Th is one night, there was only one girl in the every bar was packed even at close to 4am) Well maybe that’s not the most impor- sexual preference, at McGarrett’s. Louisiana to Southwith to Hamburgis part of aStreet. growing Right record on o’Connell.of experience Clay that was can directing feel, depending me which on waythe moment,to go. Th e endindeed of each did happenblock held at all?a diff erent tion for a minute or two. But then: restaurant, sitting at a table waiting for someone. And this giant, fat, cat-sized rat very all, I know that time is the only real cure. So I will wait. I will start to get over it in a couple been built on the corner, the Italian market Guercio’s intentionally stayed the same, and empowering or overwhelming, As one friend wrote: tant question. maybe the question is: Have I fi gured out Buff allo in one day? days. I tell myself I will straighten up, and do things better. However, I am aware enough to But not in Buff alo. a tee-shirt shop named “Krud-Mart” opened providing a fl ush of spring growth to a city Th ose green chairs took on a diff erent purpose, a diff erent meaning entirely—welcome “We should do something about that!” our pace suddenly slowed. calmly walked out into the dining room and just did his rounds. She saw it and I saw it No. Absolutely not. And that’s exciting. What I do know is, the city has some- and we looked at each other. She left without saying anything. And then, after the boss know that next week I will probably just do it all again. I don’t know how my sober friends As interviewee after interviewee for our project pointed out, Buff alo’s economic hardships that has been locked in a fi fty year long winter. Th is neighborhood couldn’t have been born I was then fl ooded by thoughts about how a place can be so impossibly charged with conduits to displace our memory of the whole incident. In an hour we forgot about it all, “Yeah… Yeah! We should!” And that was enough. We immedi- thing, something interesting enough- to make you one to hang around a… bit… more. gets by the way they do. Th en again, they don’t seem all that happy either. without that traumatic meteorological event. meaning and expectation- even if/when you’ve never been there before. Th en I thought how the dog’s owner came running into the road to be torn away from reality, how he ately spun on our heels to return to the wall and inspect our canvas. We spent less than came in from smoking eight cigarettes, he was like, “What! Every place on Allen has rats! 10:54am (BuT I WoKE uP AT 9:45!!!) Th e elevator in our building has a mind in the latter part of the 20th century saved the elements of its society that support its She shouldn’t care!” revival today. Case in point: about the scope of it, that a place can be the corner of a stairwell where you cried your eyes cried unrelentingly. Clutch your dead friend. Hold it like it still could be alive, I thought. fi ve minutes discussing our plans before we headed out to get supplies. We weeded and of its own. No matter how many times you put in your card key, and how many times I’ve spent much of my life wondering what it would be like to live someplace other than Buf- My writing there, aiming to point at a species of the hyper-real, often described a mural on out, or the building where you had your fi rst job, or the country you’ve only seen on TV, painted well past midnight on a project which had come to be called “Project: Save the “He would always say that! And yeah, probably every place does have rat problems, but you press the button for your fl oor- “It’s an adventure to see where you’re going to end falo. Is this born to lose mentality inherent to my environment? Would I still want to die or Th ey never knocked down their old buildings or houses to build new ones. the south wall of the café. Th e representation was of perfectly structured and fl owing trees or even the mental state you have to embrace to go to sleep at night. It was a small dog. Never had a chance, really. Th e man breathed into its lungs like he World” or PSTW. We walked away with an absurdly bright “sunshine yellow” cement up!” Th at’s what the older lady in the elevator said to me. Kinda reminded me of Buff allo. die trying if I were from Montana, or Texas, or Spain, or New Zealand? Am I just looking that stood in front of the building. It always caught me as part of the dream, as the trees could bring it back, knelt over it like a paramedic. No training needed to care about some- you know it’s bad when they don’t even act afraid of you. one reached out and touched me Th ey kept their park system largely intact. wall and a promise to return the next day. in the kitchen once. I was walking through and it just kind of reached out and patted me I normally don’t do what I did last night (which is what everybody says when he wake for somewhere to place the blame, or am I programmed to maintain the proud to be mis- outside, European Lindens, were still broken and battered. Th is was a friend that had moved to the opposite side of the country believing that a thing that you love. Probably carried the body back home to bury it in a shallow, damp Contributors

Alex Berkley is three grey kitties who live together in their own apartment, independent of human beings. They are capable of feeding themselves, doing the dishes, bathing, and cleaning the kitty litter. Lisa Brown teaches art to people of all different shapes and sizes. She has called six different structures “home” since coming to Buffalo, and has left a small piece of her heart in each of them. Candace Camuglia is bad jokes, boyish charm and the sarcastic deprecation of the afore- mentioned. Dan Carosa is a lifetime resident of WNY and often wonders why we all just can’t get along.

Kristine Conroy can most often be found making pancakes instead of regular dinner food. And if you’ve ever seen her walking her dog around Allentown and were curious what she was talking to herself about, it was probably some scheme to map Buffalo with stories or some other nonsense that, when it occasionally makes it out of her brain alive, can be found at puzzleboxhoney.wordpress.com. T.M. Conroy is a largely frivolous man, a Frivolist, you could say. He is drawn to impractical endeavors like a moth to the flame, and has a natural love of cartography. He also loves pup- pies, bagpipes and idioms. He eagerly awaits his next visit to Buffalo. The Curator of the Kissing Museum writes that the average kiss lasts only twenty seconds— which is exactly why they should be archived in a museum! The Kissing Museum has been collecting kisses since 2004; there are thousands more kisses to make and document. Solomon Dixon is a Buffalo resident by way of Syracuse. He is a break dancer/poet/musician who has the uncanny ability to sleep at anytime due to his narcolepsy. He also greatly enjoys spaghetti. Jacob Drum is a J.D. candidate at the University of Michigan Law School. Occasionally, he gets irrationally terrified of a mundane issue and posts about it on his blog, mastercaution. wordpress.com, where you can also find more of his poetry. He has attempted to start a publi- cation no less than four times after retiring as associate editor of the original Generation at the University at Buffalo--only one of these attempts ever produced an actual issue. His poetry has been published at amphibi.us, as well as in Amulet and other San Francisco-based outlets that you are quite unlikely to see. Currently a resident of Ann Arbor, MI, he misses Buffalo terribly and will be back as soon as he can, so text him before 6:30 if we’re out of milk. Brian Fanelli spends as much of his time as possible around campfires, or charcoal grills in a pinch. He often uses the bonsai tree as a metaphor for personal shame and prunes his own Shame Bonsai diligently. He once bartered five live chickens for bicycle accessories and consid- ers the transaction a personal if not financial triumph. He currently lives in Minneapolis, MN, but spent his formative years puttering around Buffalo.

70 Contributors

“The Guy that No One Knows” is an actor who lives in New York city. Sometimes he dances.

Emily Hackerson grew up in Vermont mountains, traded them for NYC skyscrapers and is now loving buffalo flatness. She’s a fan of making urbanism a fun and thoughtful thing and no longer just the domain of grumbly zoning planners. She works for a local housing non-profit and and sends lots of letters in homemade envelopes in her free time. Evelyn Ihrke lives on Lake Erie, but not in it.

Mac McGuire runs a local music blog. Normally he can be found quietly observing while taking his daily walks to nowhere in particular down Elmwood Avenue. He also likes to travel to far off lands. Deborah Osborne has been writing poetry since age eleven; at that age a TV crew asked her, as she exited the Buffalo Zoo (where, unfortunately, she fed the giant tortoise marshmallows be- cause back then people did such things) if visitors should pay a zoo entry fee, and she said yes. Brien Puffis half Buffalonian by birth, holds a master’s degree in history from UB, and is a lifelong Bills fan (which, really, are five words that alone make a substantial bio). He currently lives in Washington, DC, but hopes to return someday to the Nickel City, as DC is too big, too warm, and too lacking in decent wings for his liking. Patrick Riedy was born and raised in Buffalo, New York. He graduated from the University at Buffalo, and hand makes poetry chapbooks under the name PressBoardPress on his room- mates coffee table. Julia Rocchi is the managing editor for the National Trust. By day she wrangles content; by night (and weekends), she shops local, travels to story-rich places, and walks around looking up at buildings. Jesse Schmidbauer was born and raised in the CITY of Buffalo—son of an independent news- paper editor and BPS teacher. He is now an inner city Grammar School teacher, diner dweller and hot sauce connoisseur who resides in Buffalo’s University Heights, just blocks from the stomping grounds and snowball throwing streets of childhood. Mike Torsell is no one’s “little petunia.”

Nick Torsell is still bitter about not getting playing time on his JV baseball team.

Joshua Underscore is a local music photographer and an evolutionary dead end. He is also Western New York’s largest exporter of free high fives and can be found most nights making new enemies on Allen Street.

71 Impractical Cartography endlessly appreciates:

Joel Brenden

Lisa Brown

Kristine Conroy

Julia Conte

Mike Torsell

Nick Torsell

Funded in part by a Sunday Soup grant, coordinated by Sugar City Arts Collaborative and Buffalo Barn Raisers.

Made possible in part by the generosity of The Bickford Paper Company, Inc.

Become part of the ongoing impracticality at impracticalcartography.com