the sky thunders with

droves of military helicopters above east queens. where are they all going? they shake the rows of clean shapely houses that line union turnpike as the falling rain does the aquatic flora floating in a pond.

this morning i embark again to brooklyn after having just returned after a night of revelry at an old friend's house in crown heights. i had promised to help natalie from the 4th street coop pack her possessions in anticipation of an impending move, and as i was staying over in crown heights for the night, i figured things the next day would run as smoothly as the shinkansen shooting towards shinjuku during the tokyo rush hour.

little did i remember my grandma's words the night before: would you bring the vacuum up for mary when you get home tonight? mary is my grandma's elderly black cleaning woman, a sweet feeble-looking woman hailing from rural south carolina who possesses the most charming country-side southern accent. she still cleans my grandma's house because she needs the money, and as my grandma won't trust anyone else to do the job, things have stuck. mary is on dialysis and therefore cannot move heavy things, like the vacuum cleaner. she shouldn't even be working in my opinion, but that's none of my business. however, due to my grandma's legendary stubbornness, the vacuum cleaner is conveniently kept down in the basement, despite a wealth of room on the ground floor. why? because it's always been there. a sage decision. so every time mary comes to clean, i need to drag that thing up the stairs. this is not a big deal, but if i don't do it my grandma will most certainly have to herself, and she would probably kill herself in the process. my grandma has trouble opening bottles--let alone carrying a vacuum cleaner twice her weight up a flight of stairs. in my grandma's world, everything must be done the same way it's always been done, and thus if mary does not vacuum one week, EVERYTHING WE KNOW AND LOVE WILL CEASE TO BE.

so for the sake of preventing the collapse of this our universe, i made a small sacrifice. i came all the way back to hollis hills this morning, dragged that vacuum upstairs, and sit here now waiting to leave again to help natalie. today will be spent solely on commuting. getting transported from one place to another by mass transit. much moving will be done by me today, yet the energy i expend myself shall not reflect the distance traveled. the luxuries of life in the post-industrial age.

and, upon exercising my jewish mutant ability to inflict mortal guilt upon humans, i managed to triumphantly convince my grandma to keep the vacuum upstairs in cloey the cat's room. i doubt she will care that much. i mean, she basically just shits in there.