Desolation & Permanence

Desolation and permanence. I think that ‘s what I was thinking about, seeing the view from the far corner by the Chase bank, where I had to get some bread to go food shopping at the Pathmark. I was just taken for a moment by the long closed down Hollywood Video—I think it used to be an auto parts store when this chain with ambitions to compete against Block Buster and belief in the up and coming Jersey City opened up. Why not, there were half a dozen video stores in the neighborhood. Lots of renters here. Then along came Net Flix and the recession and the chain folded. Chase opens, and across the strip mall lot, Hollywood stays shuttered, and there, in the horizon, between here and the Turnpike, Siperstein Paint Can hovers, oblivious, watching us all. Local myth has it this store was an early Dutch outpost that sold alcohol-based war paint to the lenelennape. Just kidding. I love this big old paint can, it’s tacky and retro and has seen decade after decade, generation after generation of Jersey City life. I wonder how many other formats of change has it withstood.


“Take our picture,” said the teenager girl, the taller one.

“No, come on, I can’t take your picture.”

“Just take our picture,” she insisted.

“No, don’t bother the guy,” said the one with duo-toned braids. Serious braids.

“Can I put them on the internet?”

“No, don’t take our picture for the internet,” said braids.

“Just take our picture, come on,” said the tall girl.

Teenagers sort of intimidate me. Actually, they were very nice kids, killing time after school. A moment was shared. I forgot desolation and permanence and didn’t remember what was on my mind until I saw the above picture.