Word: blinds
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Diagonally across Seventh Avenue from the hulking home of the Knicks, Rangers, and, for a week, the Democratic National Committee, sits a blind Jew reading the Talmud (ancient biblical interpretations) in braille. He wears no sunglasses and shamelessly allows his empty eyes to wander over the shuffling stream of pedestrians. Every few minutes a passerby drops some coins in the old Jew's plastic dish, and he nods, mumbling a thank you. But his crudely lettered sign does not beg for charity; it states simply, "Blind Man's Newsstand." For 30 cents you do more than ease your conscience...
...hardened resignation to his condition, not blind trust in his fellow man, that keeps the blind Jew in the newspaper business. "Sure people must take two papers sometimes, or the Voice instead of the Times, but what can I do?" In fact, he doesn't even trust you enough to reveal his name...
...blind Jew doesn't vote. "There are certain complications, and, well...complications where I live." He doesn't really care who emerges from the Democratic wrestling match either: "So what's the difference, one from the other? You tell me." But he brightens at the suggestion that out-of-towners might stop to talk when they come upon his unusual enterprise. "Yeah, that would be nice...
Three steps away from the blind Jew is a little Italian guy twirling an embryonic pizza at the counter of La Trattoria, one of the many sidewalk ethnic food joints which are wedged into former storefornts. Staring aimlessly into the passing traffic, the pizzaman seems as blind as his neighbor. Asking the pizzaman for his name seems a sure bet to end the conversation, so he too, remains anonymous...
...FALL IN LOVE and you plunge in blind like a little boy in a swimming hole and you find that her cervix is a razor, and all the vascular urgency of your passion lies split bleeding across the severe edge of experience, and what do you do? When Eros lies manacled in debtor's prison? When all the meat is sucked out of your egg, and all that remains is a thin calcic parody of what might at least have been an omlette? God created women to provide life with a metaphor for itself, and the name of that life...