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Monday, September 17, 2012

This State of Invisibility in Rye Brook


The quiet sashay of ivory, beige and elegant limbs bathed in Gucci, Bermuda shorts and tennis skirts glide past me. And I detect a certain sniff-sniff in the air as the self-entitled and prosperous slide in and out of their Porsche’s, Jags and their Mercedes'.


Yes, I detect a certain sniff-sniff as they throw their sophisticated shade upon me and mine.


I never feel more invisible than when in Rye Brook, NY, on Sunday summer mornings outside of Starbuck’s.

Having learned long ago that, no matter one’s station, no one else is better than, more worthy than, exudes more excellence than myself, I am sometimes still amazed by these bold displays and trips of hubris and uber ego surrounding me.


Someday, when I better understand them, I want to write a poem about these people, these freshly face-lifted aliens who ride around in whips, wagons and starships costing more than my parent’s first home.

Meanwhile, I’ll just continue to feel alone here where everything is so clean and pristine, all clothing, all vehicles, all Colgate smiles, all blinding and all encompassing…


And I’ll never feel more invisible as if I were a walking speck of nothingness in my black skin, black jeans, black tee, black sneaks and black Adidas cap.


Somewhere between the Chase Bank and D’agostino’s, Rye Ridge Bakery and that over-priced Italian deli I refuse to go inside of, I cease to exist.

In this little village, in this little town, in this little hamlet I’ve stopped seeking my renown, and instead, I barely get by with just a little, a li’l, un pocito Espanol and a sly wink at the chico…


… or chicarina behind the counter who calls me “amigo.”


I never feel more invisible than when in Rye Brook, on summer Sunday mornings outside of Starbucks, where the beige and elegant Mercedes set quietly throw their sophisticated shade at me.


Strange, this way I’ve come to embrace, and even cherish my invisibility. Maybe, much like longing and much like yearning, we unseen ones eventually learn to adapt to our own ceaseless, soundless vanishing.



Roger Poladopoulos said...

My friend, I know the feeling all too well! I've never been to this place in NY, but, I've been to others like it. What I've found is that invisibility isn't always such a terrible thing. When I'm unseen, I'm not tempted to stoop down to their level and adopt a condescending attitude. I can be me while avoiding the entrapment of pretense. Happiness can't be cloned out like the fashions of the day.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...

"And I’ll never feel more invisible as if I were a walking speck of nothingness in my black skin, black jeans, black tee, black sneaks and black Adidas cap."

LOVE how you wrote that!

GM and great post!
So thought provoking. Causing me to search myself and reflect on my moments of invisibility...

I kind of felt this way when I moved to the beach last summer. There weren't many who "looked like" me. I was a bit uncomfortable and a bit watchful...

Overtime, I planted my roots into the sand and now, I love being the odd ball. No one there looks like me, walks like me, talks like me and there is no smile as amazing as mine!

It's exactly where God wanted me and where He needed me to be for reasosn uknown to me.

We are never invisible in His eyes but to the flesh...being invisible can be a negative or a positive mindset.

Love for a great day Lin

Anna Renee said...

My kneejerk reaction is to be pissed off. Then I think a little more about it.

I realize that one is anything but invisible in such a parallel universe. The inhabitants of this make-believe have to make believe that a black skinned,black jeaned, black teed, black sneaked, black Adidas capped black cat is not really there, or the house of cards collapses.

It's all so very precarious - the Jags, Mercedes, Porsches and all. Even though it cost them so damned much, money being the least of the cost, that they were more than willing to pay, rather than forego one of the Jaguars and help a family about to lose their house in foreclosure.

It's all just a falsely pristine make-believe village set atop a house of cards.

It's utterly sad and I have no reason to be angry. They are the faceless ones.

WynnSong said...

People are so different, with so many things they hold dear to keep themselves balanced on their pedestal. I've been on that pedestal, trying to keep things balanced and I've walked in room where no one noticed me at all. I think it's finding our comfort in who we are, not who others think we should be, finding our inner peace with God and ourselves, which I've learned at times, is not an easy task......
Beautiful entry my friend.....

Lovebabz said...

And yet I can't imagine that you would feel invisible... you are such a citizen of the world. I have to re-read and listen for something else...perhaps it is long of a sort? Well this sounds like making the case for Paris in 2013!


Moanerplicity said...

@ Roger:

I agree. Being invisible in this society & within certain cliques isn't always such a terrible thing. The writer in me rather enjoys the mental narration I often conduct. I won't even mention the jokes, which, if those flitting before my eyes could only hear, they could most probably leave them pissed & deeply insulted.


Moanerplicity said...

@ fsb:

I think invisiblity is the risk we take when we pull up roots, move to new places, & find ourselve in a completely new & different (Oz) location.

It's up to us as to whether we remain invisible, or if we choose to rise up, make a noise & become a spectacle. I'm really not the type to embrace the latter. I tend to speak loudest thru my pen. That's my most authentic voice... & it's rarely, if ever, censored.



Moanerplicity said...

@ Anna Renee:

By George! Methinks she's GOT it! You hit the nail on the head.

I was hoping this piece didn't make me seem, sound or in any way lesser than... nor in any shape, form or fashion was describing myself as a 'victim.'

I truly DO GET the joke of life even when those within the Mercedes & Jag set do not.

Thanks for smelling me, in between the lines, Anna May.


Moanerplicity said...

@ Wynn:

You wrote: "I think it's finding our comfort in who we are, not who others think we should be..."

That's very true. It is only something that comes with a certain maturity as God Graces us.

Back in my 20s, even early 30s, my sensitivities & sensibilities were completely different. Even behavior and false people inside my orbit would get to me, & I didn't suffer fools gladly.

Now, my comfort often comes in the quiet sound of Zen Laughter.


Moanerplicity said...

@ Lovebabz:

Yes, I was describing me, or more specifically, a mood I was feeling & the way I come out of such things is to write about them.

I'd like to think I'm 'a citizen of the world.' & I certainly dress for evey situation. lol. However, there is this always-thinking-cat who resides inside my head... & he doesn't always rest so easily.

So... Is Paris ready for us yet?



QH said...

As always, your piece was epic. If you want the answer to your question you posed in the recent post on songwriter's on my page, what is your e-mail? Mine is QHBLEND85@LIVE.COM. Get at me. Be well. Q.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...

Good afternoon JOYfilled one.

Love that... your pen being your authentic voice!!!!!!

I love the pure freedom and creativity that writing brings when we don't care so much about the readers response...we are compelled to release it from within and let it do what it do. :-)

Just stopped by to wish u an awesome weekend! It's gorgeous out!


Moanerplicity said...

@ QH:

Thanks. And consider it done.


Moanerplicity said...


Good afternoon, Most Lovely & Content One.

I rarely concern myself w/ how or if readers respond to my blog.

Some write for pleasure, for popularity or out of boredom. I write simply because I HAVE to, whether that be here or elsewhere.

It can & has saved life, & at other times, it's kept me sane, free in the world, & not slowly rotting behind prison bars.

What a gift! What a GIFT!

Enjoy your weekend!