Here are depictions from the 2013 Gatsby film that showed NYC's historically uncaring filth. In the 1920s, metropolises like Hamburg, London, Milan, Paris, and Shanghai never had such places like Flushing's ash dump because they cleaned up their cities in the 1850s.
Flushing got overcrowded. Even five years after I left it, realtors still try to lure renters by describing it as an "up and coming neighborhood with distinct multicultural benefits, undergoing exciting urban renewal." Lies!! Urban renewal has been planned for 10 years, but it never happens; that's merely a way to lure people to live there, by claiming that it will happen.
Flushing was founded in 1645 by the Dutch, by a decree from its sovereign Prince of Orange: Frederik Hendrik. It was named for their port-city of Flushing in the Netherlands (founded in 620 AD). In Dutch, it's spelled Vlissingen. (The King of the Netherlands' title still includes being the Marquis of Veere & Vlissingen). Incidentally, Flushing has a Prince Street and a King Road, but they're not related to that.
Flushing was founded in 1645 by the Dutch, by a decree from its sovereign Prince of Orange: Frederik Hendrik. It was named for their port-city of Flushing in the Netherlands (founded in 620 AD). In Dutch, it's spelled Vlissingen. (The King of the Netherlands' title still includes being the Marquis of Veere & Vlissingen). Incidentally, Flushing has a Prince Street and a King Road, but they're not related to that.
Initially, the Flushing in America was also a port, via the Flushing River. Its bay was originally inhabited by Maspeth tribes of Native Americans. After swindling natives to buy land in Astoria, William Hallet fled to Flushing in 1656 and became its sheriff. The area is also one of the five original towns, when Queens County was created in 1683 by the British, who took New Amsterdam from the Dutch and renamed it New York. The county was named for the Queen of England.
Many towns claim to be "a place that George Washington visited", but Flushing is truly one of them. In April of 1790, the newly-installed (and first) American president dined there during his tour of Long Island. He wrote about Long Island's roads being inferior, badly-made, and uncomfortable. Nothing improved in 200+ years.
From its historic buildings, you can tell that Flushing was originally designed as a handsome community. Below: the 1940s Art Deco church, Tudor-style homes, the castle-like police station, a synagogue, Flushing Town Hall, and the columned Post Office.
Inside the Post Office, I was amazed by the hand-painted murals made during the attempted optimism of the 1930s.
However, due to unseen forces, Flushing was marked as the "population center" for (mostly illegal) Asian immigrants. It now looks like this:
Such over-development is officially condoned by NYC government, while irreplaceable historic buildings like the Bowne House (below), built by the Quakers in 1661, are neglected.
(With typical loopholes of excuses, NYC claims that the Bowne House has been "closed for renovations"... for 20 years. !!! NYC's authorities never admit to how they uncaringly have a reluctance to fix things; they lie and say that "things are being worked on").
Inside the Post Office, I was amazed by the hand-painted murals made during the attempted optimism of the 1930s.
However, due to unseen forces, Flushing was marked as the "population center" for (mostly illegal) Asian immigrants. It now looks like this:
Such over-development is officially condoned by NYC government, while irreplaceable historic buildings like the Bowne House (below), built by the Quakers in 1661, are neglected.
(With typical loopholes of excuses, NYC claims that the Bowne House has been "closed for renovations"... for 20 years. !!! NYC's authorities never admit to how they uncaringly have a reluctance to fix things; they lie and say that "things are being worked on").
You may also know Flushing as the site of the 1939 World's Fair. It was supposed to be a promise from America that if people gave their money to the USA, they would have a fabulous future. The King and Queen of the United Kingdom visited!
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Just like all of the USA's prior "carpetbagger" schemes, it tricked believers and swindled them for their money. It was similar to how Joseph Stalin made fake promises of abundance to his citizens in the Soviet Union.
Decades later, NYC tried that scheme again. However, the greedily and corruptly mis-managed 1964 "World's Fair" wasn't technically a World's Fair because they bypassed the World's Fair organizers and its standards. After depleting investors and visitors of their funds, the fairgrounds were uncaringly neglected. The city allowed the site to become rusty ruins: an eyesore for the citizens (just like corporations abandon their equipment throughout America's "rust belt").
The USA has 3,006 counties. With an enormous population of 2,253,858 people, (not counting the hordes of non-registered illegal immigrants), Queens County is the fourth most-densely populated county. Continuously, NYC only uses those people to feed itself money and cares little for their livelihoods or quality of life. That's why it is one of the dirtiest counties, with decrepit public transportation, dilapidated roadways... and it suffers from a high amount of crime and slovenly slumlords (unchanged since its tenements of the 1880s). Queens is also the most racially diverse county in America. As immigrants, most inhabitants are unwilling to complain about maltreatment, and the government, employers, landlords, and police know it.
Flushing is NYC's burgeoning second Chinatown, overflowing with legal and illegal immigrants (sadly many from the dirty streets and poorest villages of mainland China... and according to Corey, not his Hong Kong ilk). There is a huge Taiwanese population, and several streets of Korean culture. The high "population density" forced people to exist in every nook & cranny.
Human trafficking is big business in America, and the results get dumped in Flushing. Illegal aliens owe huge fees ($50,000) to their smugglers, which are pre-paid by NYC restauranteurs and sweat-shop owners… so the aliens work off their debts to them. Indentured servitude. It burdens the community with dirt-poor, uneducated, and unsanitary people who can't contribute to society.
I only learned about that after I moved to the area!
Corey and I spent countless nights and all of my days off “hitting the pavement”, going door-to-door, asking superintendents, calling every “For Rent” sign, and scouring Craigslist. I was often fatigued and my feet hurt more than usual. Many Cantonese-speaking landlords refused to rent to a white boy, whom they called a gweilo: "white devil/ghost". Especially a gay one—evidenced by Corey at my side... with his oversized sunglasses, tight-seated jeans, and jeweled rings, like below.
Since my distasteful job was still on Long Island, I continued riding the LI Bus, and Flushing was the cheapest area along the bus route.
Flushing's Asian culture appealed to Corey, but I was moving into an "anti-gay world”. I got stared at by Asians, Muslims, and Catholic Latin Americans. The dirty women at bus stops and on cashier lines gave scornful and reproachful glares during their sideways whispers.
Restaurant employees who didn’t speak English refused to seat me at a table (unless I wore my suits and resembled a city employee).
Few gay men came from the city to Flushing because the only subway (the multi-cultural, dimly-lit, dirty 7-train) was an hour-long trip. Sometimes, gay guys ventured from Jackson Heights to taste Asian food.
When suburban families came to Flushing's billion-dollar stadium, they never entered the actual "part" of Flushing. No, that stadium (operated by corrupt Citibank) never shared its revenue to the community, despite having the same zip code.
I was probably the tallest and whitest young man in Flushing… and the most expensively dressed (when I commuted to work).
Sanford Avenue was named for U.S. Senator Nathan Sanford (1777 - 1838), who owned most of the area. My bus stop was a few blocks away on Parsons Boulevard (named for Samuel Bowne Parsons' Nurseries that existed in the 1840s). That stretch of road had the most churches and tax-free "houses of worship" of any imaginable variation of religion. But the area was not "saintly" in any way.
I got accustomed to being loathed in Flushing for being a white man AND for being gay. There was often pointing, shaking heads, and nasty comments in languages I don't understand—especially in my building's entranceway. Even though I was straight-laced, you couldn’t mistake Corey’s coquettish manner... and on my days off, I enjoyed dressing in "colors" and more fitted, fashion-forward clothes (like below).
Alas, there were no gay bars in Flushing, nor was there a presence of "out and proud" gayness.
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It amazed me that so many illegal aliens lived openly in Flushing. It's also ironic that NYC's Chinatown—with its "slum landlord buildings", overcrowded illegal housing, and sweat shops—is literally around the corner from the city's Justice Department and Police precincts?! Clearly, they don't care.
It reminded me of how Long Island cops blithely drove past the illegal day-laborers who waited for work on the side of the road near a Dunkin' Doughnuts in Farmingdale… but issued speeding tickets to citizens who drove by. Those overpaid police also ignored the aliens riding illegally in the backs of lawn-service trucks, but issued tickets to suburbanites for not wearing a seat belt. Tax dollars at work? Shameful!
In Flushing, I don't think those human souls wanted to live under such conditions. It's amazing that the scandal continues! Below is a model of a current-day slum in NYC's Chinatown.
I began to get fed up with Corey’s “king in exile” attitude.
He didn’t carry grocery bags if they were "heavy". He didn’t clean our home. I washed ALL the dishes from his stir-fry creations (lots of rice to cheaply expand our meals), and I scrubbed the oil/grease off the stove and counters in a futile attempt to discourage bugs. He left the bathroom as a wet mess. I always did the laundry. He only watched drama TV like Real Housewives, Judge Judy, Oprah, or MTV. I came home from customers who shouted at me to hear shouting on his TV shows. He never paid me the rent that he promised, yet I discovered that he got monthly "laser hair removal" sessions in Astoria, and he kept his diamond rings and pendants cleaned by jewelers on 47th Street in Manhattan. (He claimed that the Beauty Salon owed him favors). And we never had sex. Ever. That's a no-no in a supposedly intimate "relationship".
The only erotic things he offered me were blowjobs or handjobs—which he rarely finished (claiming his wrist condition). It was like déjà vu with Chris! He claimed constant fatigue or headaches or stress from "job searching" and "trying to save us money". I knew the relationship was doomed.
Being a conniving mastermind, Corey ignored his outdated computer and used mine—while I was at work—to expedite his "job search" to supposedly bringing money in.
As time wore on, I found out that he collected Unemployment funds for two years, and he didn’t work a day in his life while I knew him. He slept in late, browsed the internet—including job listings for me (he thought it more efficient if I got a better job first) and for himself. He managed stocks that his rich father in Hong Kong set up for him: he already spent the cash from his Dad on “get rich quick” music-recording scenarios. He had an easy day, compared to mine! (Especially when you realize that all his living/home/eating expenses were covered by me). Nevertheless, he said that his daily routine always exhausted him. He took a nap at 4pm, then did errands. But he was always at home (or waiting at my bus stop) when I got home (often telephoning me in advance to confirm my arrival). Then, he dragged me to buy groceries or eat cheaply in basement-level Chinese food stalls. There are nicer restaurants in Flushing, but the sad majority are dirty. Below are images of the many food stalls and eateries along Main Street.
That Christmas, a fellow I met at my Landmark Education Weekend emailed me pictures of his Christmas party, which my work schedule held me back from joining. I felt sad envy.
Once again, I thought of Pastor Eberhardt's Christmas parties for Church Volunteers... which previously included me.
I tried not to get angry that my pastor/church friends—whom I volunteered SO MUCH for—never reached out to me to see how I was doing or if I needed help. In fact, Pastor didn't reply to my emails for 5 years. (Just like he never helped me with the shiftless bloodsucking lawyer that he suggested to me). No one from my huge congregation phoned or emailed me. Was that a Christian community?! Thanks to postal "mail forwarding", I continued to receive donation envelops from my former church, but they failed to send me any charitable help or care packages.
Friends who got to know Corey immediately agreed that he was a hypochondriac. He was routinely suspicious that men on the subway were going to rob him! Three times, he called the Super, the landlord management company, and the City about suspected health violations. Twice, a city health inspector knocked at my door because Corey claimed to smell a gas leak. Once, the city inspector was there for an insect infestation and “fungus mold” in the bathroom that Corey complained about. Their inspections never officially found anything. Honestly, I was impressed that my humble address warranted such prompt service from the otherwise uncaring city. I suspect that Corey's friend, Bob, made it happen.
Here are real pictures of the 7 train at that time. Crude passengers ignored any rules of decency.
Flushing is NYC's burgeoning second Chinatown, overflowing with legal and illegal immigrants (sadly many from the dirty streets and poorest villages of mainland China... and according to Corey, not his Hong Kong ilk). There is a huge Taiwanese population, and several streets of Korean culture. The high "population density" forced people to exist in every nook & cranny.
I only learned about that after I moved to the area!
Corey and I spent countless nights and all of my days off “hitting the pavement”, going door-to-door, asking superintendents, calling every “For Rent” sign, and scouring Craigslist. I was often fatigued and my feet hurt more than usual. Many Cantonese-speaking landlords refused to rent to a white boy, whom they called a gweilo: "white devil/ghost". Especially a gay one—evidenced by Corey at my side... with his oversized sunglasses, tight-seated jeans, and jeweled rings, like below.
Since my distasteful job was still on Long Island, I continued riding the LI Bus, and Flushing was the cheapest area along the bus route.
Flushing's Asian culture appealed to Corey, but I was moving into an "anti-gay world”. I got stared at by Asians, Muslims, and Catholic Latin Americans. The dirty women at bus stops and on cashier lines gave scornful and reproachful glares during their sideways whispers.
Restaurant employees who didn’t speak English refused to seat me at a table (unless I wore my suits and resembled a city employee).
Few gay men came from the city to Flushing because the only subway (the multi-cultural, dimly-lit, dirty 7-train) was an hour-long trip. Sometimes, gay guys ventured from Jackson Heights to taste Asian food.
When suburban families came to Flushing's billion-dollar stadium, they never entered the actual "part" of Flushing. No, that stadium (operated by corrupt Citibank) never shared its revenue to the community, despite having the same zip code.
I was probably the tallest and whitest young man in Flushing… and the most expensively dressed (when I commuted to work).
Corey finally found me a sublet apartment (on Sanford Ave.) from a Chinese
woman who worked for Chase Bank. Hailing from a genteel era, the prewar building had a name (seen below).
Sublets are not legal and therefore don't possess any guarantees that you will be able to complete your intended "length of stay". My first-floor, 1-bedroom apartment cost $1,200 per month. That's a steep price for a Flushing sublet in an outdated building, in a run-down area, that requires a 60-minute subway ride to Manhattan. Such high prices are "robbery", yet gluttonous NYC landlords take advantage of poor people (and immigrants) who have nowhere else to live.
Sublets are not legal and therefore don't possess any guarantees that you will be able to complete your intended "length of stay". My first-floor, 1-bedroom apartment cost $1,200 per month. That's a steep price for a Flushing sublet in an outdated building, in a run-down area, that requires a 60-minute subway ride to Manhattan. Such high prices are "robbery", yet gluttonous NYC landlords take advantage of poor people (and immigrants) who have nowhere else to live.
People advise you to avoid first-level apartments, to avoid bugs, pests, and noise. But that apartment was available within my timeframe and my financial conditions. It
was two blocks from a Long Island Bus stop and three blocks from the Queens Bus stop, which I rode to the
subway & shops on Main Street.
The arrangement orchestrated between the three of us was that Corey would pose as her nephew (to the Superintendent and any neighbors), and I would be his friend (who stayed there a lot). The Super probably figured things out but couldn't care less: he was happy to see a clean, odor-free apartment. For my part, I was very happy living in a building with a Superintendent. No more shoveling snow, raking leaves, gardening, taking out the garbage to the curb, or home repairs for me to do! (Alas, the maintenance that he did was slipshod and unskilled).
The arrangement orchestrated between the three of us was that Corey would pose as her nephew (to the Superintendent and any neighbors), and I would be his friend (who stayed there a lot). The Super probably figured things out but couldn't care less: he was happy to see a clean, odor-free apartment. For my part, I was very happy living in a building with a Superintendent. No more shoveling snow, raking leaves, gardening, taking out the garbage to the curb, or home repairs for me to do! (Alas, the maintenance that he did was slipshod and unskilled).
Sanford Avenue was named for U.S. Senator Nathan Sanford (1777 - 1838), who owned most of the area. My bus stop was a few blocks away on Parsons Boulevard (named for Samuel Bowne Parsons' Nurseries that existed in the 1840s). That stretch of road had the most churches and tax-free "houses of worship" of any imaginable variation of religion. But the area was not "saintly" in any way.
I got accustomed to being loathed in Flushing for being a white man AND for being gay. There was often pointing, shaking heads, and nasty comments in languages I don't understand—especially in my building's entranceway. Even though I was straight-laced, you couldn’t mistake Corey’s coquettish manner... and on my days off, I enjoyed dressing in "colors" and more fitted, fashion-forward clothes (like below).
Alas, there were no gay bars in Flushing, nor was there a presence of "out and proud" gayness.
Corey
found Chinese-speaking, cash-seeking movers for me. That was another favor that I found myself owing him.
On my last day in Bayside, Joe helped by shuttling me back and forth in his car, as I moved things (to save
money from the movers). My gilt-framed
mirror fell and smashed, and Joe superstitiously said that
it was a sign that the negative energy from Ron, the landlord, my mother, and elsewhere was
broken!
After I moved in, Corey found the cheapest places for me to buy fresh groceries, how to decipher the Chinese signs, and he found the cheapest semi-clean eateries. He encouraged me to get a new Library Card at Flushing's modern library (which replaced an Andrew Carnegie-built library on that site).
With my library card, I discovered books and videos to borrow/enjoy. As expected, there was a huge selection of Asian movies (with English subtitles). Surprisingly, I found many gay-themed ones, too. I realized that Asia was already more tolerant and gay-friendly than the USA, because mainstream films and TV series featured same-sex themes. Nowadays, the genre is called Boys Love (BL). Originating in Japan in the 1980s, the theme became popular in China, Taiwan, Korea, Thailand, and Indonesia. It's amazing. The shows approached topics that are still ridiculously taboo and restricted in America (the so-called "Land of the Free" with "Free Speech" and a "Pursuit of Happiness"). Nowhere on American television will you see guy-to-guy romance, caresses, intimacy, erotica, guys using dildos, or foreplay. American entertainment producers seem to pretend that those things don't exist. Therefore, those videos were a treasure-trove of artistic expression and behavioral validation. Furthermore, most of the Asian actors did not conform to American stereotypes; they acted and spoke normally and didn't feel compelled to wear female clothing, speak in a high-pitched (whiny) tone with a fake lisp, act flouncy and swishy, or have overdramatic tantrums. Those shows were refreshing for me.
After I moved in, Corey found the cheapest places for me to buy fresh groceries, how to decipher the Chinese signs, and he found the cheapest semi-clean eateries. He encouraged me to get a new Library Card at Flushing's modern library (which replaced an Andrew Carnegie-built library on that site).
With my library card, I discovered books and videos to borrow/enjoy. As expected, there was a huge selection of Asian movies (with English subtitles). Surprisingly, I found many gay-themed ones, too. I realized that Asia was already more tolerant and gay-friendly than the USA, because mainstream films and TV series featured same-sex themes. Nowadays, the genre is called Boys Love (BL). Originating in Japan in the 1980s, the theme became popular in China, Taiwan, Korea, Thailand, and Indonesia. It's amazing. The shows approached topics that are still ridiculously taboo and restricted in America (the so-called "Land of the Free" with "Free Speech" and a "Pursuit of Happiness"). Nowhere on American television will you see guy-to-guy romance, caresses, intimacy, erotica, guys using dildos, or foreplay. American entertainment producers seem to pretend that those things don't exist. Therefore, those videos were a treasure-trove of artistic expression and behavioral validation. Furthermore, most of the Asian actors did not conform to American stereotypes; they acted and spoke normally and didn't feel compelled to wear female clothing, speak in a high-pitched (whiny) tone with a fake lisp, act flouncy and swishy, or have overdramatic tantrums. Those shows were refreshing for me.
I also discovered facts about my ancestry. As I mentioned earlier, my maternal grandmother's lineage was English, Dutch, and Alsatian. Her surname was Titus, and that was a prominent English family of Quakers who lived in Flushing, from the 1640s onwards! They mingled with distinguished Dutch families. In 1676, a Quaker burial ground was designated, and it still exists in Flushing, on Northern Boulevard. The original Quaker Meeting House of 1694 remains on that site. Alas, their graves were often unmarked, and most gravestones sunk into the ground. Yet, records prove that members of the Titus family were buried in that cemetery, until the 1840s. In 1658, Edmond Titus built a homestead in Westbury, Long Island, and he populated Nassau County with Tituses. During the American Revolution, Flushing was inundated with German Hessian soldiers, who were hired to fight alongside the British. (Thus, perhaps my German ancestry mixed with my English/Dutch at that time). Some Titus relatives relocated to Duchess County, in upstate New York.
A month after I settled into my new home, Corey approached me with an offer to give up his own place in
Astoria (that I had yet to see) and move in with me… because he really “cared”
about me, and it would save money for both of us. His lease was due to expire at the end of that month. (Oh, how Life was coordinating the best things for me!) I was still finding it hard to save income, and what I saved was recently spent. Corey
promised to easily find a job, and I figured that splitting the "costs of living" in half would be beneficial. He also pointed out how he "technically" got the sublet for me, and he could do his best to make sure I kept it. My next
mistake was agreeing to his offer. I didn't have much of a choice, as he could've broken our probably-illegal sublet
arrangement, as revenge for my rejection.
I was concerned with how fast it was happening. The advice I got at the time? "This is the Universe hurrying to make everything better for you!" "It's all coming together quickly to make amends for the bad stuff that's happened." What a load of crap! It turned out to be another terrible situation. Things were about to get worse. Could I ever trust the Universe to ever provide a pleasant/helpful situation?
Of course, just like Ron, Corey needed help with his moving, too. Lots of help! His apartment—when I finally saw it—looked as if a homeless hoarder lived there! Here are actual pictures:
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Guess who did the back-breaking work of carrying Corey's things downstairs to the dumpster? I did: old carpets, dozens of musty cardboard boxes, dirty pots, an old mattress with mouse holes, crates of dusty CDs, and loads of clothing and shoes. Corey always claimed that he couldn’t carry too much because of a "wrist condition"! He explained that his apartment looked terrible because he didn’t often stay there. It was supposedly the result of a 3-year relationship that recently ended. (Looking back, Corey was probably mooching off the guy, thus never maintaining his own home, and when the guy finally dumped him, Corey scrambled to find a new moneyman, and he settled for me). Yeah, thanks. Corey hired the same movers, and I was told to sit in the back of their hot truck—surrounded by the boxes and furniture—during the drive to my place. Then, I did the legwork of unpacking and finding places for everything.
I was concerned with how fast it was happening. The advice I got at the time? "This is the Universe hurrying to make everything better for you!" "It's all coming together quickly to make amends for the bad stuff that's happened." What a load of crap! It turned out to be another terrible situation. Things were about to get worse. Could I ever trust the Universe to ever provide a pleasant/helpful situation?
Of course, just like Ron, Corey needed help with his moving, too. Lots of help! His apartment—when I finally saw it—looked as if a homeless hoarder lived there! Here are actual pictures:
Guess who did the back-breaking work of carrying Corey's things downstairs to the dumpster? I did: old carpets, dozens of musty cardboard boxes, dirty pots, an old mattress with mouse holes, crates of dusty CDs, and loads of clothing and shoes. Corey always claimed that he couldn’t carry too much because of a "wrist condition"! He explained that his apartment looked terrible because he didn’t often stay there. It was supposedly the result of a 3-year relationship that recently ended. (Looking back, Corey was probably mooching off the guy, thus never maintaining his own home, and when the guy finally dumped him, Corey scrambled to find a new moneyman, and he settled for me). Yeah, thanks. Corey hired the same movers, and I was told to sit in the back of their hot truck—surrounded by the boxes and furniture—during the drive to my place. Then, I did the legwork of unpacking and finding places for everything.
How enjoyable was my new home? Some of the neighboring apartments in my building were illegally overcrowded, and most kept their front doors open all day for ventilation. They resembled this…
From 11pm-2am, the darker-skinned guys across
the street blasted car stereo music—which rolled through my open windows. An
old Asian woman several floors above us threw rice out her window for the
birds, and the rice gathered on my window sills and air conditioner, creating
early morning “scratching/cooing” pigeon activity outside. A sick woman above me spent hours in
her bathroom—directly above mine—coughing and retching. Literally above all of those disturbing noises, jet planes thundered constantly overhead, because Flushing is under the flightpath to La Guardia Airport.
Roaches, rats, stray cats, and mosquitoes roamed the basement’s corridors, trying to get into apartments above. The picture below was my best view when I did laundry in the basement's Laundry Room: there was nothing to look at, except my sneakers, the hair on my calves, or the four walls).
My powerful suburban microwave blew the fuses, so I sold it on
Craigslist. The refrigerator died, losing all my food, but the Chinese woman had another one delivered. The broken shower curtain rod noisily fell
down randomly in the dead of night, scaring us awake. One night, the bathtub faucet began spraying water. Our Super repaired it… twice. A few months later, the kitchen sink’s drain sprung a leak,
causing water (while I washed dishes) to pour on my feet. The Super created a
hole in the wall to repair the pipes.
Roaches entered the apartment through the hole, until I paid him extra to
patch it up. The stove's exhaust fan died, and the tube fell off from the exterior wall, so we opened the non-screen window when cooking. More bugs flew in. Throughout my time in that apartment, I attached tissue paper on the windows to serve as curtains.
The Queens Chronicle published an article, saying: "Flushing stinks. A potent, sour, fishy and greasy stench lingers in the air, unique to Flushing. Along a 700-foot stretch of Main Street, there are multiple supermarkets, grocery stores, and dozens of eateries. Essentially, they dump and wash out their garbage onto the streets, and—instead of properly filtering their wastewater and kitchen grease—simply flush that out onto the sidewalks and streets, too."
They were not residents in the city; they were inhabitants.
Nonetheless, I was grateful to finally live in a building that featured its own laundry machines... instead of carrying my laundry bag for 10 blocks to a (usually dirty) laundromat. Unlike most NYC laundromats, those machines always worked. It was the nicest attribute about my dwelling; nearly everything else was problematic.
The Queens Chronicle published an article, saying: "Flushing stinks. A potent, sour, fishy and greasy stench lingers in the air, unique to Flushing. Along a 700-foot stretch of Main Street, there are multiple supermarkets, grocery stores, and dozens of eateries. Essentially, they dump and wash out their garbage onto the streets, and—instead of properly filtering their wastewater and kitchen grease—simply flush that out onto the sidewalks and streets, too."
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Those immigrants brought their "ways of life" from "home"...
...to NYC.
It amazed me that so many illegal aliens lived openly in Flushing. It's also ironic that NYC's Chinatown—with its "slum landlord buildings", overcrowded illegal housing, and sweat shops—is literally around the corner from the city's Justice Department and Police precincts?! Clearly, they don't care.
In Flushing, I don't think those human souls wanted to live under such conditions. It's amazing that the scandal continues! Below is a model of a current-day slum in NYC's Chinatown.
He didn’t carry grocery bags if they were "heavy". He didn’t clean our home. I washed ALL the dishes from his stir-fry creations (lots of rice to cheaply expand our meals), and I scrubbed the oil/grease off the stove and counters in a futile attempt to discourage bugs. He left the bathroom as a wet mess. I always did the laundry. He only watched drama TV like Real Housewives, Judge Judy, Oprah, or MTV. I came home from customers who shouted at me to hear shouting on his TV shows. He never paid me the rent that he promised, yet I discovered that he got monthly "laser hair removal" sessions in Astoria, and he kept his diamond rings and pendants cleaned by jewelers on 47th Street in Manhattan. (He claimed that the Beauty Salon owed him favors). And we never had sex. Ever. That's a no-no in a supposedly intimate "relationship".
The only erotic things he offered me were blowjobs or handjobs—which he rarely finished (claiming his wrist condition). It was like déjà vu with Chris! He claimed constant fatigue or headaches or stress from "job searching" and "trying to save us money". I knew the relationship was doomed.
Being a conniving mastermind, Corey ignored his outdated computer and used mine—while I was at work—to expedite his "job search" to supposedly bringing money in.
As time wore on, I found out that he collected Unemployment funds for two years, and he didn’t work a day in his life while I knew him. He slept in late, browsed the internet—including job listings for me (he thought it more efficient if I got a better job first) and for himself. He managed stocks that his rich father in Hong Kong set up for him: he already spent the cash from his Dad on “get rich quick” music-recording scenarios. He had an easy day, compared to mine! (Especially when you realize that all his living/home/eating expenses were covered by me). Nevertheless, he said that his daily routine always exhausted him. He took a nap at 4pm, then did errands. But he was always at home (or waiting at my bus stop) when I got home (often telephoning me in advance to confirm my arrival). Then, he dragged me to buy groceries or eat cheaply in basement-level Chinese food stalls. There are nicer restaurants in Flushing, but the sad majority are dirty. Below are images of the many food stalls and eateries along Main Street.
Seen above, animal parts, such as pig ears and duck heads, were startlingly new for me. I don't like pig ears or chicken feet, but I enjoy sautéed kidney or liver soup (just as I like sweetbreads).
Looking at the dingy pace above, I don't know how NYC gave it an "A" health rating?
I adjusted to being the lone "white guy" in restaurants.
I got accustomed to NOT understanding the menus or labels.
In addition to shopping at the Hong Kong Supermarket, I got accustomed to buying $1 bags of vegetables sold by street vendors on the curbs of Main Street.
I settled in to the ambiance.
That Christmas, a fellow I met at my Landmark Education Weekend emailed me pictures of his Christmas party, which my work schedule held me back from joining. I felt sad envy.
Once again, I thought of Pastor Eberhardt's Christmas parties for Church Volunteers... which previously included me.
I tried not to get angry that my pastor/church friends—whom I volunteered SO MUCH for—never reached out to me to see how I was doing or if I needed help. In fact, Pastor didn't reply to my emails for 5 years. (Just like he never helped me with the shiftless bloodsucking lawyer that he suggested to me). No one from my huge congregation phoned or emailed me. Was that a Christian community?! Thanks to postal "mail forwarding", I continued to receive donation envelops from my former church, but they failed to send me any charitable help or care packages.
Friends who got to know Corey immediately agreed that he was a hypochondriac. He was routinely suspicious that men on the subway were going to rob him! Three times, he called the Super, the landlord management company, and the City about suspected health violations. Twice, a city health inspector knocked at my door because Corey claimed to smell a gas leak. Once, the city inspector was there for an insect infestation and “fungus mold” in the bathroom that Corey complained about. Their inspections never officially found anything. Honestly, I was impressed that my humble address warranted such prompt service from the otherwise uncaring city. I suspect that Corey's friend, Bob, made it happen.
Next, Corey swore that he got bitten by bedbugs, which were rampant in Flushing! That was a nightmare for me to consider! I took him to my personal doctor (my out-of-pocket cost)—via 2 buses for 2 hours, each
way. My doctor assured him they were only mosquito
bites that he irritated by fiercely scratching. Corey insisted on seeing
another doctor in Chinatown, who gave him a cream that cleared the bites. It prompted me to buy bedbug
covers for my mattress, box spring, and pillows, and to pay for the apartment and my furniture sprayed by a true professional (not the lazy guy who worked for the Super and only came once, every 3 months).
Corey was relentless in his daily hypochondria, rambling his worries to me for hours at a time! Then, he screamed at me of not replying "properly". Great... ANOTHER person who wanted to tell me all their problems!
If I wasn’t exhausted from my miserable days at work with my miserly company and "user" boss, being the key-holder for 5 lazy higher-paid assistant managers, combating bitchy customers, my thwarted advancements (as I continually heard about successes from the young salesman whom my boss pushed into the "celebrated" boutique job that I wanted), the caustic bus commutes... then Corey’s hysterics drained me! Imagine trying to keep up your "mental walls" through all that psychological abuse, mental stress, fear of the future, physical exhaustion, and emotional deprivation. Nowhere to rest your mind.
Corey was relentless in his daily hypochondria, rambling his worries to me for hours at a time! Then, he screamed at me of not replying "properly". Great... ANOTHER person who wanted to tell me all their problems!
If I wasn’t exhausted from my miserable days at work with my miserly company and "user" boss, being the key-holder for 5 lazy higher-paid assistant managers, combating bitchy customers, my thwarted advancements (as I continually heard about successes from the young salesman whom my boss pushed into the "celebrated" boutique job that I wanted), the caustic bus commutes... then Corey’s hysterics drained me! Imagine trying to keep up your "mental walls" through all that psychological abuse, mental stress, fear of the future, physical exhaustion, and emotional deprivation. Nowhere to rest your mind.
Corey toyed with me, pushing me away (literally), concealing from me elements of his nature, but wanting me to take care of him and support him. On my days off, which were always planned by Corey, we took the nasty 7-train into the city: it required an hour to move 11 miles. The $2.50 subway cost less than the $6 Long Island Railroad, which charged higher fares during "peak hours". Stupidly, the 7-train was built aboveground. Uncaring of its overtaxed communities, NYC greedily built the cheapest form of subway: elevated, instead of tunnels. "Fast and cheap" is the motto of American industries. Therefore, 10 miles of Queens are covered with a blight: rusty antiquated tracks erected in 1915. It overshadows hundreds of homes and businesses, and it adds rattling noise pollution day-and-night. The city's Metropolitan Transit Authority rarely paints it, but overpays its corrupt train crews to "fix things" that never get fixed.
The riders of that subway truly resembled the image below.
Here are real pictures of the 7 train at that time. Crude passengers ignored any rules of decency.
The typical
assortment of passengers: a pregnant girl with another newborn in a
stroller, the muscled young man alongside her who is eyeing a girl
across the train, hoodlum teens shrieking and running between cars, hoodlums pole-dancing for donation$, thugs starting fistfights amongst themselves, day-laborers spreading their legs to
take up two seats (like this)...
and rubbing their dust/dirt on people who bump against
them...
...impolite Asian women shoving past you to seize seats, people clipping their finger/toe nails, riders spitting on the floor, people eating/spilling food on the seats.
It also explained why riders didn't use nice leather bags or handbags because they got ripped and torn by the "rough people" who scraped/shoved past them.
My "messenger-style bag" got scraped and could not be mended. A careless woman stepped on my shoe, and her heel punctured the leather and made a hole! A construction worker's boot stepped on another pair of my shoes and scuffed them badly. A skateboarder brushed past another pair of my shoes and damaged them beyond repair. My coat got snagged on a day-laborer's toolkit and got "a pull" across the fabric. Another day-laborer smeared dusty paint on my suit, as he shoved past me. It was like being in a third-world country. I quickly realized why people wear sneakers during their commutes.
The only people who were absent 99% of the time were the overpaid MTA cops of the overpaid NYPD.
Some of the passengers on the train represented true "peasants" from around the world.
It's understandable that people emigrate for a better life. It's a shame when authorities are aware and condone a regular influx of illegal immigration and "human trafficking"—for the cheap labor and supply of consumer-spending "hamsters on the wheel". The side-effect is that certain newcomers bring their bad habits, lack of awareness, poor education, poor hygiene, and "fight or flee" mentalities. The cartoon below is a century-old, but in a way, it illustrates the bad elements that also snuck into communities.
America made it extremely hard for turn-of-the-century immigrants to advance. Discrimination still abounds, which breaks our laws. Nowadays, a broker gets rich by importing illegal immigrants, and then slum-landlords and cheap companies enrich themselves off those people's poverty via sweatshops. NYC calls itself "an immigrant capital of the world" because it needs meek uneducated/manipulative human labor. Many business owners and restauranteurs only want illegal aliens as workers because they won't complain/sue about the underpaid wages, injuries, or abuse. As a whole, it negatively impacts the communities.
You think I'm kidding? You think I exaggerate? Without any sense of superiority, I can truly explain that—thanks to America's condoned "people trafficking"—you can mingle among foreign peasantry in Flushing and along the 7-train route. Example: a Chinese woman—looking like she came from an impoverished province—shuffled into a store, and not wanting to wait for the Lady's Room, simply went into the Men's Room and "took a sh!t" in the urinal and then left! People behave like they're still in their rustic villages, without social manners, clean hygiene, patience, gratitude, or common courtesy. Some set up "cardboard-box shops" under store windows to clean shoes or do small repairs for whatever money they can get. Many spend entire days collecting bottles from trashcans so they can redeem them for pennies.
*Note: Even in 2015, John Raskin, the Director of Riders Alliance compiled a book of "Subway Horror Stories" by angry passengers. Raskin said, "Many make the argument that the 7-train itself is a horror story! Broken trains, broken signals and rails, tremendous delays, months of track-work that doesn't fix delays but only detours the riders, lack of decent announcements at stations, and overcrowded trains."
It's understandable that people emigrate for a better life. It's a shame when authorities are aware and condone a regular influx of illegal immigration and "human trafficking"—for the cheap labor and supply of consumer-spending "hamsters on the wheel". The side-effect is that certain newcomers bring their bad habits, lack of awareness, poor education, poor hygiene, and "fight or flee" mentalities. The cartoon below is a century-old, but in a way, it illustrates the bad elements that also snuck into communities.
You think I'm kidding? You think I exaggerate? Without any sense of superiority, I can truly explain that—thanks to America's condoned "people trafficking"—you can mingle among foreign peasantry in Flushing and along the 7-train route. Example: a Chinese woman—looking like she came from an impoverished province—shuffled into a store, and not wanting to wait for the Lady's Room, simply went into the Men's Room and "took a sh!t" in the urinal and then left! People behave like they're still in their rustic villages, without social manners, clean hygiene, patience, gratitude, or common courtesy. Some set up "cardboard-box shops" under store windows to clean shoes or do small repairs for whatever money they can get. Many spend entire days collecting bottles from trashcans so they can redeem them for pennies.
*Note: Even in 2015, John Raskin, the Director of Riders Alliance compiled a book of "Subway Horror Stories" by angry passengers. Raskin said, "Many make the argument that the 7-train itself is a horror story! Broken trains, broken signals and rails, tremendous delays, months of track-work that doesn't fix delays but only detours the riders, lack of decent announcements at stations, and overcrowded trains."
Before entering Manhattan, the 7-train pauses at a subway station named Queensboro Plaza. (Built in 1917, it's ugly from neglect since 1930).
There, the 7-train (seen below)...
...rendezvoused with the newer trains of the N/Q lines (below).
Sometimes, Corey insisted that we switch trains because the N/Q came from Astoria, and it stopped at all the desirable places in the city: Fifth Ave, Hell’s Kitchen, midtown, Union Square, Prince Street, SoHo, East Village, and Canal Street in Chinatown. It was full of "relatively calm" people, being polite to one another, offering seats to those carrying shopping bags, orderly, and quiet. Also gay-friendly. On the days that our travels necessitated staying on the crowded, child-crying, dirty, hoodlum-infested 7-train, I looked across longingly at the brightly-lit N/Q line, with young folks using iPads and sipping chai lattes. I wished that I lived in their world. Corey voiced his regret that he moved out of Astoria… which I allowed to annoy me.
...rendezvoused with the newer trains of the N/Q lines (below).
Sometimes, Corey insisted that we switch trains because the N/Q came from Astoria, and it stopped at all the desirable places in the city: Fifth Ave, Hell’s Kitchen, midtown, Union Square, Prince Street, SoHo, East Village, and Canal Street in Chinatown. It was full of "relatively calm" people, being polite to one another, offering seats to those carrying shopping bags, orderly, and quiet. Also gay-friendly. On the days that our travels necessitated staying on the crowded, child-crying, dirty, hoodlum-infested 7-train, I looked across longingly at the brightly-lit N/Q line, with young folks using iPads and sipping chai lattes. I wished that I lived in their world. Corey voiced his regret that he moved out of Astoria… which I allowed to annoy me.
On my days off, Corey "pushed" me to photograph him at different locations, then photoshop the hundreds of pictures, and finally help him create/maintain a fabulous Facebook page for his
“music career”. Just like Chris! (I wondered why the Universe kept repeating bad things for me). If I resisted him, it spurred a volcanic explosion! Corey ranted and raved for hours, following me into any room, barking at me, and threatening me about losing the apartment!
I longed for some cuddling after a hard day, or some relaxation time, but no. That's because he really didn't have any physical attraction to me. He insisted that, since I was a better writer and typist, I compose letters to every Arts & Entertainment editor of every local and city newspaper and blog. My only rest came when he decided to “go out”. Not with me, though. He took an hour to “coif himself” while calling up friends (whom he spoke to in Cantonese) before going out to night spots where he gave his demo CDs to DJs. He probably went out to party and get laid, while I slept from exhaustion—being the only one earning money for the 2-person household. My life was unchanged from the past few years!
Corey never stole from me or vandalized anything of mine, but he deliberately “took me for a ride”, for money/shelter—as meager as it was—until someone better came along. The sad part was that Life situations pushed me into Corey's clutches. He was the only guy interested in dating me, at the time that we met, so I decided to try dating him. Shortly after, my Bayside apartment "dissolved" underneath me, and he was the only person willing to help me.
The only damage Corey did was infecting my computer with viruses. I carried its CPU tower on the bus to work, for a coworker to give to her boyfriend—who was a computer tech—to clean/restore it. The second time he infected my computer, it was ruined. Thankfully my files were recovered. Corey’s devoted friend, Bob, found me a deal on a refurbished computer and drove us to New Jersey to buy it. Corey offered to split the cost 20/80 (on both our debit cards). Later, I realized that it was his clever ploy to make sure I couldn’t return it without his debit card!
I longed for some cuddling after a hard day, or some relaxation time, but no. That's because he really didn't have any physical attraction to me. He insisted that, since I was a better writer and typist, I compose letters to every Arts & Entertainment editor of every local and city newspaper and blog. My only rest came when he decided to “go out”. Not with me, though. He took an hour to “coif himself” while calling up friends (whom he spoke to in Cantonese) before going out to night spots where he gave his demo CDs to DJs. He probably went out to party and get laid, while I slept from exhaustion—being the only one earning money for the 2-person household. My life was unchanged from the past few years!
Corey never stole from me or vandalized anything of mine, but he deliberately “took me for a ride”, for money/shelter—as meager as it was—until someone better came along. The sad part was that Life situations pushed me into Corey's clutches. He was the only guy interested in dating me, at the time that we met, so I decided to try dating him. Shortly after, my Bayside apartment "dissolved" underneath me, and he was the only person willing to help me.
The only damage Corey did was infecting my computer with viruses. I carried its CPU tower on the bus to work, for a coworker to give to her boyfriend—who was a computer tech—to clean/restore it. The second time he infected my computer, it was ruined. Thankfully my files were recovered. Corey’s devoted friend, Bob, found me a deal on a refurbished computer and drove us to New Jersey to buy it. Corey offered to split the cost 20/80 (on both our debit cards). Later, I realized that it was his clever ploy to make sure I couldn’t return it without his debit card!
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