As New York can so easily turn from sweet and luring, it can slide downhill into a state of morose deprecation. The sky turns against the sun and no longer can bright joy be seen from the heavens, but a cold nasty breeze sweeps through the channels paving through buildings and streets and along with it comes the piercing rains. The rain is nauseating, in the way that seeing a forgotten treat of the appetite found in the icebox has turned itself into a turf of aquamarine green. Yes that is how disgusting the sky falling can be for the ones living in New York.
With the rain comes the vendors of the rain coverings."Umbrellas!, Get your Umbrellas!" cries the immigrant from who knows where under a thick accent of who knows what. Most natives rely on a appropriately packed bag. Whether you're male female, gay straight, you have your shit together in a bag. So before your day begins you know to pack your own bubble concealer called an umbrella. Pack that shit.
Fortunately for some, and unfortunately for others, some of the elite, and shall I say stupid New Yorkers, carry a larger than this short-lived life-size umbrella. They usually are painted in colors from the primary scale and have a giant logo or brand name scripted across the top. The canopy ranges from thirty-six inches to the size of small states such as Rhode Island. When times fall hard, humans follow suit in the form of natural selection, and prove to be advantageous. So when you don't have an umbrella, and the sky does begin to fall, and you're lucky enough to see a sucker with an aforementioned umbrella for twenty-three, you carefully sidle next to the hero against the rain and share in their covering.
But what does that say for people in general. Can we share with each other outside of personal acknowledgment? I would lovingly share my umbrella with anyone who is a dear friend or family member. However, if some strange fool comes and tries to steal my appropriated covering, I'm going to reach back and verbally slap the ho. Same thing for ideals. They are shared somewhat better in families, but horribly so in un-nuclear conventions.
We argue more than to hear the beauty of our own voices; we argue to enforce our own validity. After years upon years of experience, stemming from the time we first argued with our parents or siblings about how we were right and they were wrong, we knew our plea wasn't for the ears of others, but for our own souls to know what foundation they stood on. So when it comes to joining forces and ideas in an Utopian ecumenical umbrella, how as humans can we gratify that reality?
I would say we can't. No matter how much hope you levy in that direction, I say it's all but too impossible. Please, keep trying. Prove me wrong. I'm not moving to nihilism, but more to simple unmixed vantage point of life. Share with your families what you may. But when it comes to the charlatan dressed in suit and tie or shirt that says he hearts whomever he may, ask him if there really is the room for the two of you under the umbrella.