A Wineglass Full of Rain
love interrupted
a backyard evening
reminded us to go outside &
then come inside
we talked & talked
& talked ourselves into caring
or was it the
lovelight
under a big fat moon oh yeah
that moon
then the mosquitoes
& the kisses
People complain a lot about bikes riding on the sidewalks & the wrong way up streets. I agree (& am an exceptionally law-abiding bicyclist, even stopping for lights). My chances of keeping that up would be better if so many moving vans & delivery trucks (& passenger vehicles!) didn't look at bike lanes as free spots to hang out. Yesterday on 12th St, there was a USPS van settled down in 3 straight blocks. In one, the guy was eating his lunch, meaning he could just as well have stopped a lot of other places, without trying so hard to kill me by forcing me into traffic. There are too many vehicles & people for the streets of New York, no doubt, but it works better if everyone tries to make themselves small.
If you want to survive in New York, you better only read the box scores.
~ Billy Martin
Having a great weekend walking around the neighborhood with the wonderful Baltimore poet David Beaudouin, who seems to know more about what's around than I do. I had never seen the plaque for Frank O'Hara where he lived at 441 East 9th Street, for example, but it was something David wanted to see. I'd walked by the tiny hands of this effigy a few times but David's interest & excitement made me stop, not just for this but for the neighborhood as a whole. How fortunate I am to live here & know poets.
I thought bravery was part of my character. I've taken a breath & leaped every chance I got. Reckless, maybe, but also brave, I think. These days, the weather keeps me indoors, Johnny's health gives me pause about going away, my knees make me reluctant to throw myself to the ground in karate ... & so on. I can still take courage in art, however, & I will continue to try. I just never expected to be someone who thinks twice. I guess it's exciting or at least interesting to see myself change, even as I get older, even they aren't changes that seem like me. But they are me & I am them & I'm grateful to be taking the whole trip.
My neighbor in #8 when I first moved in was Mary Deane, a young mother who was very protective of me, which I was amused by given that I had hitchhiked all over the country by myself & felt extremely capable. She was right, though, that I had no clue about the Lower East Side (which was what we called the East Village back then). She had a beautiful sister named Gloria & lots of other relatives in the area. I once or twice went to the beach with a bunch of them & they really did the cliché Puerto Rican thing of setting up their blankets & grills on the median near the parking lot not the sand. When Mary moved out, she was afraid I'd be helpless so she gave me a metal bar with a metal chunk on the end to protect myself. My apartment got broken into while I was away, & my neighbors thought it was some kind of maniac because they found my weapon lying on the bed. They were so relieved to find out it was mine. Years later I ran into Mary & asked what Gloria was doing. "Twenty to life," she said, I think for drugs.
According to my sister, New York actually has 12 seasons (including The Pollening, between Third Winter and Spring) & we are currently in Hell's Front Porch. It's hard not to feel like we're being abused or gaslit by the weather: The temperature is way down (yay!) but the humidity is way way way up so it's just as unlovable & unliveable as it has been for the last 2 weeks. Can I call the Weather Violence hotline for an intervention?
What a pleasure to buy a brand-new 2025 (!) road atlas. All the places I've been & might go in this wonderful country are there for my random page-turning. Mobile, where have you been all my life? New Orleans, are you still as fun as when I was 20? What's going on in Merry Hill, NC, these days? What kind of Pierre pressure is my home state experiencing? Roaming the map has charms as good as jumping in a car. The only thing that's changed is I sent away for the Rand-McNally ~ they used to be for sale on tables set up in midtown or by Cooper Union. I used to have a dozen, because every time I saw one for sale I needed it.
When he reached 95 years of age, Pablo Casals, the great Spanish cellist, was asked by a young reporter: "Mr. Casals, you are 95 and the greatest cellist who ever lived. Why do you still practice six hours a day?"
Casals answered, "Because I think I'm making progress."
Yay for lifelong learning. Yay for not giving up.
Thrilled that Johnny has a new(-old) book out: Slip of the Tongue & other stories from Tough Poets Press, who republished Mangled Hands a year or 2 ago. A couple of the stories were supposed to be in a collection that never came out & we think were never published anywhere. A bunch are from before I knew him and were in The World, Siamese Banana Press, and elsewhere. Hoping there's more where that came from.
This is just to say that 10 or 15 degrees makes the hugest difference between slow demise & staying alive (ah ah ah ah stayin' alive).
I am a simple human creature, affected by the world around me.
Bless me, for I can see.
When the second of us gets in bed, Lefty is always a quick 3rd. He also likes to be alone with one of us. Alone & touching. It's kind of how Johnny & I keep in contact, although neither of us has a tail. After 4 years, he's become a loving little critter.
We had a bad dinner, a good breakfast & time for a quick stop at the Mad magazine show at the Norman Rockwell Museum, thanks to a tip from my friend Diana Rickard, whose father, Jack Rickard, was a Mad artist. Rockwell was really good at what he did but it has its limitations. Not so much the corniness, because real people are never corny. but because what you see is what you get. K asked a good question: is ambiguity, layers of meanings, something that was valued by artists in other times? Probably not. But Rockwell is a bit like reading mysteries - you quickly get everything that's in them & move on.
My friend K & I set off in her British racing green Mini convertible for North Adams, Massachusetts. Destination: MASS MoCA. By way of: whatever we see. Our first quick pause was at an honor system roadside stand where we bought a pint of blueberries and not peaches or sweet corn. We are longtime car guys & compatible friends.
MASS MoCA is huge, in an old factory. We mostly saw works of James Turrell, including three events we signed up for in advance. He takes you places you don't expect & you don't resist. I lay on the floor of a dome & watched the sky at dusk to color projections. Sounds simple & it is, but it's also contemplative & lovely.
For progressive people the present is the beginning of the future. For conservative people the present is the end of the past.
~ Karl Mannheim (1893-1947), Hungarian sociologist
True enough - who looks back to some Golden Age but conservatives & who welcomes the whirlwind of change but progressives. It's probable that looking back is what makes you a conservative, that is, the prediliction to miss the good ol' days is a character trait that predicts a conservative mindset. There's more to it than that, of course. Conservatives are, apparently, more fearful & anxious, so it makes sense that they cling to the familiar.
Once again, in my eternal optimism, I've signed up for a Norwegian class, this one from the Iowa-based Vesterheim, the National Norwegian-American Museum and Folk Art School. I won't be behind on the grammar, but man, my ear is a mess. Excited!
First I went to one of the courthouses downtown to see my girl S— in 2 mock trials as part of a weeklong law program for high school students. Same scenario each time; in the first she was a prosecution lawyer, in the second a witness, & very convincing at both. Had a sandwich & listened to Damian Williams, District Attorney for the Southern District NY, tell dozens of high school students & some of their family members how he became a lawyer & the duty & joy he feels in working to repair the world or at least his corner of it. The best kid on S—'s team had the wonderful name of Desmond Augustine; he was a student at Regis & seemed like he could already be a lawyer. Then I finally saw the African Burial Ground national monument, a little oasis in the middle of Broadway. And got to hang with my beloved Mike, formerly of B&H Dairy, now the manager of a Matto coffee & snack spot, where he is dispensing beaming smiles & "sweetheart!"s to one & all. One of the most loving and positive people I've ever known.
I kind of want to show you my to-do list, which is somehow both extensive & irrelevant. I have a list of 7 things I do daily, like this blog & studying Norwegian, but a lot of things I can finish quickly. I get the satisfaction of checking things off, along with a structure that makes sure I don't forget anything. Clearly I need some inspiration, which the heat has driven away. I took a bath! I spoke to someone in France! I had an exciting thought for a project I'm working on!
This time I was more prepared. Since I first saw the Hiroshige show last month, I bought a book of all 100 Famous Views of Mt Fuji, and have been studying the images. My eyes were ready for the colors and just how many prints there are. Bonus: a few of them were cooling in the heat of this city summer.
P.s. I didn't know Mt. Fuji was a volcano!
I thought it was simple: I go on Medicare, I get free additional insurance that gives me a gym membership and a preventive care visit with my primary care doc for either nothing or $25; a specialist is $25 or $50. Not bad! Simple! I was a little put out that the ophthalmologist at Mount Sinai would charge $75 extra to give me the prescription for glasses but that made it only $25 more than Warby-Parker, so what the hey. Ha! Suddenly the pre-visit estimates rolled in: $183 for one, even more than that for the other. Apparently, you pay $25 for the meal but extra for a chair, napkin, fork, glass. Apparently, I have to choose supplemental not advantage. Apparently, everyone knows this. The several different people I spoke with at Mount Sinai all said it's a big ol' scam & of course the hospitals figured out how to wring money out of every "free" service. I knew, vaguely, that healthcare is a mess but since I never go to doctors, I hadn't understood. Now I am beginning to.
The triumph of despotism is to force the slaves to declare themselves free.
~ Isaiah Berlin
I haven't really had jobs where I had bosses or time clocks. I've pretty much been left alone to accomplish assignments as I see fit. Autocracy isn't for me, unless I'm in charge. And I don't want to be in charge, just left alone. I believe I wouldn't grovel but who knows.
We went to Astoria. First we had drinks at a place called Kinship Coffee. It was so large & unpeopled that I felt like we had been driving for days & had found the cutest place in Jackson, Mississippi. Look! there's all that space they aren't even using! So chill on a sweltering day. We parked where we wanted. Let's move, we all thought. Then we strolled down to the water, which I guess is the East River? But from the other side. For once I didn't see the Manhattan skyline & long to be there right this second.
I love to talk about Lucky, in part because he was so modest that he was easy to overlook. He would comb through catalogues all year round to buy Maggie & me perfect presents. Later, he had an aide who, by the time she climbed to the top floor was too tired to actually do his errands, clean or cook. He was fine with her sitting and chatting, and I wouldn't be surprised if he fed her & gave her a few bucks here & there.
His one bad quality was that he cheated at cribbage & then gloated when he won. I stopped playing with him!
He made borscht & gravy every Thanksgiving, & loved to be part of the giant dinners we threw for many years.
Wouldn't tRump rather be a television celebrity than president? Why don't some rich Democrats in Hollywood offer him a show & get him out of politics? Celebrity, adulation, ratings without the work or criticism or impeachment or felony convictions. Meaningless lies.
Happy 4th, fellow citizens.
... is sit in the park & get to know the trees. It started with the pigeons roosting a foot away from my office door. I became a pigeon fancier & a nature girl. Every time I sit outside, which I do daily, it makes me feel like I have all the time in the world. Everything expands & I am part of the block, the neighborhood, the city, the world. Trees!
While there are 422 trees for every person in the world, there are almost twice as many people as trees in New York City. But there are about 40 trees in my field of vision when I sit on a bench at Village View. I'm hogging the trees of New York!
Yesterday people disappeared behind a tree on the path & reemerged into a sunbeam. Did they realize their golden light?
I try to get on with it & if I start a post, I find a way to finish it that often includes an unexpected (to me) swerve. It's strange to be feeling kind of one-direction & indecisive.
We had a great time visiting Johnny's sister & seeing her 4 daughters (the 3 sons were far off, as it happens). It was unspeakably hot & humid but luckily they have a big air-conditioned house & we hung out, laughed, reminisced & were glad to be together. I worried it would be the last time, as it's harder & harder for Johnny to travel & his sister has health issues of her own, but it wasn't bad at all & I think we'll get down to Virginia again in not too long. We spent half an hour at the Civil War battlefields visitor center - there were 4 major battles in the area - but otherwise didn't leave the block. I saw deer and a groundhog.
C'mon, New York, whatchoo got for me?
To Europe she was America. To America she was the gateway to the earth. But to tell the story of New York would be to write a social history of the world.
~ H.G. Wells
I love quotes about New York City, especially when I've been away for a few days & despite everything would rather be here than anywhere else. The "everything" is how nice to stay in a house, with plenty of rooms & a pantry & a screened porch, bathrooms, ice that refills itself, cars. But then I get home & my cat missed me & my books missed me & I can see my whole house from anywhere in it, so no one can creep up on me through a basement window. Also, it was a hundred degrees & a thousand humidities in Virginia where we were visiting Johnny's wonderful family & chilly when we got off the train at Penn Station at 2 this morning.