What can I really say about Brooklyn?

There is not much that hasn’t already been said, it’s a borough that is and has been filled with aspiring (and inspiring) writers. Writers who grew up with a Brooklyn voice, writers who let Brooklyn flood them with inspiration and writers who knew this borough was where they needed to be. 

But – its also trite, it’s a cliché, and its been done -especially by the Yupster.

What is there to say?

Who am I to say it?

Some of said residents have enough money to not do anything besides write, and I do not mean for work, but for pleasure – as in they receive no monetary gain for their writing. Imagine that voice that comes from pure creativity. Aside from the fact some of these writers can scribble, or type, away all day long – their craft is apart of them. It fills their lives. Their voice is Brooklyn.

I fill my head with thoughts that are far away from Brooklyn. 

I’m detached, not as focused. My voice withering away, if it ever existed. Not to be compared to those who live and breathe talking about #cobbled streets, artisan foods and the new fused specialty place that now sells cupcakes made with booze. I’m a fraud.

Authenticity, how can you tell if you have it? Can you find it? Can you gain it?

Can I really understand the older authentic brownstone laden neighborhoods compared to the new ones created by a culture of shiny fresh high rises? I’ve barely been there a year; some people have never known anything but Brooklyn. Some could tell you that their family stepped into America and right into Brooklyn’s arms and never looked back. Or that their family has been making the same sauce in their restaurant for at least three generations. Authentic. This has never not been their lives, they can talk about it. Can I?

Who am I?

Brooklyn has a culture of arts and want-to-be artists who all want to talk about their new spaces, their new work – their new everything and anything.

My voice isn’t special. I’m not that interesting. I don’t have that much to contribute.

Where is the voice that is worth paying attention to? Do I even have it is as a writer, or at the very least as a person? My metaphorical voice that is, I am generally very vocal.

Or do I fall into the realm of other persona non grata that has flooded its buildings following the real artists in on their coattails? The shallow, the vain or those looking to pretend they have some to contribute to a vibrant community –the ones who are really just there for a flashy and hip zip code. Not there for the community.  Not there for the spirit, art, culture or dynamic that has shaped Brooklyn for all these years.

Who am I?

 

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This feels a little different than the assignment, but it was a post I was going to do on my own in the upcoming weeks. Or maybe I just freely interpreted the assignment. But I always tend to have both those Angels on my shoulders making me double think my choices. So let me just argue amongst my self doubt.