Upstate NY Gothic
You could have sworn you were in a town just a moment ago, but all you see are the rolling green hills, and all you feel is the jerk in your stomach and the pop in your ears as you go up, and down, up and down
you drive for hours, past the towns, past long lakes and through vast fields, and you leave. it is easy to leave, though few do.
and when you say where you came from, people stare blankly and speak of a city. it’s not the city, you explain patiently, and you name the towns you know are large enough to be cities but that somehow seem to shrink when you speak their names, and you gesture with your hands to indicate the reaches of the land, the scope of the scenery. they nod and smile politely, not comprehending. they think they fooled you, but you know. they will never know.
People have lived here for generations, but there are no clear explanations. no famous history. we went to this school. my parents went to this school. this is the way it has always been.
This is a good school. This school is different from the others. So, so many others. They brush against each other, overlapping and yet they circle like vultures, viciously competing over tender, dying prey
We’re in New York State, we are open and accepting. Look at the Diversity poster, look at our anti-bullying assembly, look how talented our students are, don’t look behind that door, don’t ask the students if they are happy. They are. Don’t worry
(perhaps some truly believe the lies, but the rest of us know and bite our tongues out of fear)
You’ve heard about the sun. You know it exists, from movies and secondhand tales of those fortunate enough to leave, but all you’ve seen is steely grey clouds
The only time it is light is autumn, when the hills turn from green to vivid orange and bright yellow and blood red, and the apple orchards are open for picking. You stand on the hill, the bag of apples heavy on your arm, and breathe in the sweet scent of the dying leaves and rotten apples in the air, holding your jacket against the chill wind that promises that this light cannot stay and the grey must return
You have almost hit a deer. Everyone has almost hit a deer. "It just jumped out of the woods, it was like it almost hit me". You laugh, but later you wonder what it was running from, what instinct led it to flee towards death, and what chance spared it, and spared you
(it can’t be the coyotes - those were killed off long ago, they say with sad eyes. yet, sometimes you hear a howl.)
You know where you are, but the labels mean nothing - You say you are upstate, up north, yet the spector across the border is not the Canadian wilderness but the fracking trucks of Pennsylvania, the constant low rumbling, always going, always a reminder that we could be next
You’re in New York, aren’t you? But you aren’t in the city, are you? Is that New York? If that is New York, then where are you?
You once heard someone say Wegmans was not the best grocery store. You never heard from them again, and why would you want to?
You are going to a SUNY. They are such good schools, and so close. You don’t need to leave. Why do you want to leave? There are no other schools
We are so much nicer than those pretentious assholes from New York City. WE ARE SO MUCH NICER THAN THE PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLES FROM NEW YORK CITY IF YOU SUGGEST A CONNECTION TO THEM I WILL KILL YOU. we are so much nicer than those pretentious assholes from new york city.
