Something I jotted down from last Wednesday...

Another day, another spiritual mission. Wednesday I had some time after class and went abound the lower east side. Why is it that everytime I go by a cynagogue they are closed. Actually, locked at that. How should one ever convert? Through the youngjewishprofessionals.com website? "Let's meet over matzos at Moishes bakery in Stuytown and talk about the wait"So I am looking for Eldridge where my dear new alliance church lay and zoned out for a particular amount of time to which leaves me off at Pitt st and delancEy. This is most likely because of the kind of immediate neighborhoodchange. It reminds me of how I experienced my first time in alphabet city. There was a gorgeous amount of debris, and I'm not being sarcastic ( recall American Beauty, the plastic bag), and silence, but people. Boy there were people. This moment was interrupted by a chattering of kids on a stoop of what happened to be a catholic school. I asked if they went there, slightly interrupting some skilled foot pattering. "uhh yeaa...". The confrontation from a tot all of ten gave me courage to be cpnfrontstional in return."so what's your thoughts on religion?"Really plainly, as to not sway any specific answer, not that I'm positive I could with these guys."I'm holy, and I'll kick your ass! HaHA! Chea"We all giggled, but I'm sure they thought I was crazy because I got a few looks.I walked on amused, and took their picture from afar in that creepy kind of way.Further down the street which mainly resembles a large parking lot with a tiny lane in the center the beautifully quiet garbage scene returns.A booming megaphone chanted lords name, and I could swear I was meant to zone out into this bizarre parking garage of Christ. A small yellow truck with the words Sunday school on wheels printed on the side in that font meant to look like a child wrote it in crayon, was surrounded by children munching candy that way too closely screamed Mr Softy for my own comfort. But it was Ms Lenette, preaching from her truck that opened up on one side like a circus road show, yielding colorful depictions of biblical scenes while actively engaging what became a crowd of women men and children alike. This site was like nothing i'd seen. Unfortunately as I walked over she began closing it all up, as God's word was unphasing to mother natures demand for gale winds, so I didn't have much time. What I did get was something great to look foward to shooting, when Lenette comes through, and "I'm Lenette" of course. Sweet, sweet blonde lady.My camera dies for a while and I wander around admiring the neighborhood while the spirit van takes off. The sky is in full dusk mode, but unusual, full of bold grayish indigo clouds, like a storm was shouting nearby or something. I squeeze the remaining battery juice from both camera battery packs and capture some great scenes that resemble what I did for my "stAged reality" assignments. Wander along to wo hop, then take the subway from canal st home. Feeling slightly underaccomplished, but all the rest I feel the potential with this growing. I'm drawn to the subculture of stabilized housing which could be easily inferred with stabilized churching. This really really interests me.

i'm tired

Isn't it weird when some people just smell like, I don't know, a human you don't like. You think they're a nice person, and then you get a little too close, just close enough to be repulsed. This isn't the normal bad smell. Actually, it's not even 'bad' per say, or a particular smell known to man. It's their scent. And when this happens it really changes my mind. I become suspicious. Suddenly, I feel like all along we've been genetically programmed to be arch-enemies or something. "_____ must be destroyed", for whatever reason. I always relate the smell to pastrami, or vaseline, though I know it probably smells like neither of those things. Ahh, what a waste. Maybe they're processed people, maybe that's the connection...maaaayybe.

So so so, templehunt today. I went to two Buddhist temples, one 'inglesia' church, and a new alliance Chinese church. The Buddhist temples were beautifully colored reds and oranges, eye catching, elaborate. I felt curiosity, but not much else. I had a rather interesting (interesting in that anyone witnessing this event would probably be in disbelief) conversation, with an overly zealous Chinese man, who was definitely not getting as much a kick out of me as I of him. He was much shorter than me, I noticed while most of the time I stared at his tufts of white hair softly bouncing from the breeze throughout the room. The kind of man that looks you wide-eyed, and doesn't stop nodding his head, in a fidgety neurotic way. I love ticks. At first, I began asking basic questions that he would answer in Chinese, with an occasional English word thrown in. This is where I feel like a dumb American. But I kept asking, until inch by inch we came closer to understanding each other. We went from 0-50% in a matter of ten minutes, all was not in jest. I learned Buddha is the teacher, there is no representative but him, "Good Luck", the scams of other temples, much said about the dead, and some customary singing bowl stuff, among things like what he had for lunch. I praise him for dealing with my questions as long as he did. When it came time to ask if I could take photographs sometime he literally said, "ahh teacher (point to Buddha) no likey, no likey". I thanked him dearly, good man.
The Inglesia Church is a storefront deal. A lovely Brazilian woman openly apologized for her poor English which I prominently told her was great, especially since I just came from Mandarin 101. She told me her story without me asking, she just moved here with her husband, the pastor, from Brazil, and they're still establishing a base here near St Marks. I like this place immediately. The church has an old rusty feel, a nicely decorated small altar with flowers, and windows, light welcoming windows. I'm pretty sure I noticed a table with a coffee pot towards the back. The woman is a little awkward with me in her body language, I'm trying to figure out whether it's because my arrival and presence is strange to her, or if she's self conscious of her English. I smile. She asks if I'd like a prayer from the pastor. I'm not sure, but I agree. A young lively man comes out like a game show host and shakes my hand like I've won a million dollars. Carlos, Pastor Carlos. He asks me to cross my arms and hold them over my chest (think coffin-style), then to close my eyes. With his hand on my head he booms the most passionate prayer in Spanish, last thing I've heard that took me as off guard was the first time I heard tongues, well it wasn't that shocking, but let's just say, it was powerful. I thanked him dearly, I was really overwhelmed. I felt really good after this. So good I gave my phone number to Daniela, who will have the English speaking member call me. hmm. Well they're cool with me coming in, camera and all, I'm cool with them.
The most informative conversation I have is at the New Alliance Church at Eldridge, below Delancey. I ring a bell. The man introduces himself as Aaron, asking how he can help. He seems professional, in appearance and form of speech. For him I lay it all out, I ask and receive, answers to my questions that is. He's trying to setup when I can photograph a half English/half Cantonese service, and he wants to keep in touch by e-mail. Crazy, but I can't complain. He happily gives me a tour of a very simple, but large space, no windows though. This place isn't pretty, or even rustily quaint, but this man is extremely open, so I'll see what happens with this. He gave me his business card, his Pastor business card.

Yeah...day one.

For the record, the smell spat and religion project aren't related at all, this is just me, my thoughts, they intertwine and must be excused for not "categorizing" anything. Free flow man.