another "dark" day....

its windy outside, and the rain is expected. Not the best day to go out, yet I have been out several times. My stomach, which has been pretty spare for the last few days, has, for some reason, decided that it could eat everything that existed---so I have been out buying things in small doses. But here I am, in the apartment, and here I will stay, I guess, for the rest of the day. Could be worse---couldn't it?
 Saw a performance of Apollo, by Balanchine, that is streaming over the New York City Ballet web site. I have not seen the ballet in a while--I marvel at the way Balanchine created the steps--his whole concept. Of course, from the years 68 to about 81, City Ballet was a major part of my life,  I went often, sometimes three out of four performances in a weekend--I knew all the major ballets. They are part of my past---I have not been to a performance in about 11 years, for one reason because the theater is named after David Koch. But also, the memories of that time might be too intense---some of these ballets are almost like people I had relationships with---do I want to go back to that feeling. I was impressed with how much the audience loved the performance---they seemed to be with them completely, so I guess the company now really has a following (this performance was from 2019) I will probably return to the web site to check out a few other ballets that they are streaming in the next few weeks. It won't hurt.
Not much else---even a short walk today (to 83rd and Amsterdam) was invigorating. But I suppose I will stay in for the rest of the night. Will report soon.

feeling better...

because of two things; one, the arrival of my stimulus check yesterday, now safely in the bank. Although cityboy is doing well by other means, somehow this check seemed to have really lifted him up. Once again, he did not sleep that well, last night, but that was because he was heavily fantasizing depositing his check. Yes, fantasies are strange nowadays. The second upbeat event around city boy's life was the cleaning of his apartment this afternoon. The woman who cleans is really terrific--it had been six weeks and the place was pretty dirty. On returning to the apartment, it looked so clean and orderly that I truly wondered if it was mine. Well it is, and feeling its neatness gives cityboy an incredible sense of relief.
    Anything else..? Not really--I continue to watch you tube shorts, some are about gentrification and others are moments from musicals. Today, while the apartment was being cleaned, I had to be "out" so I took the 1 up to 145th and walked around a bit. I wandered north on Riverside Drive; I had never been north of 148th street before, and I saw some amazing apartment houses on the Drive around 150th to 153rd street. I stared in amazement---always something new to look at and consider in the city.
Anything else..? Not really, will figure out how to spend the evening, what choices to make on the computer, and maybe get a nice night of sleep as so much has been accomplished in the last two days.

a sign of hope....

Monday, almost 6. Just returned from a walk from here (76th and West End) to a grocery store on

64th and the same. Longest walk I have taken in two days. The body really begged for it--really went for it---legs strong as I made the trip. Then I returned and wanted to go to this blog and write something. This, after a "harsh" day that did not seem like it was working out too well. But actually if you look at the facts, cityboy accomplished a lot. 

1 Laundry (well, it was necessary) 

2. Two e mails describing my current life and feelings to two different women (ironically they are both situated now in the Chicago area). a lot of strong writing which I am proud of, I hope they find the main thrust of these descriptive e mails interesting. Both have descriptions of the face book group that I have joined called: Growing Up in the Bronx, 50's 60's 70's, and my disappointment that most of the posters, who definitely do not live in the Bronx now, enjoy their memories, but show no interest in the people who live in the  areas where they grew up now.

Yesterday, did catch the Sondheim tribute---saw most of it yesterday, and finished what I did not see today. My favorites: Brandon Uranowitz singing We've So Little to be Sure Of, from Anyone Can Whistle---that song has so much depth and power---Ms. Lupone singing the title song from that show--showing remarkable restraint and sensitivity and There Won't Be Trumpets, song by Sutton Foster also from that show. Donna Murphy gave a beautiful rendition of Send In the Clowns and the whole group, headed by Them Sesma singing Somewhere In the Tree. Others were good---those were the ones that reached me the most (though I am probably blocking one or two others).

A moment of calm--much needed--not sure about the night--some interesting choices on the computer--also check out WQXR, on the radio---wish me luck, will report soon.

'and the phantoms of the night..."

"will fade into the past." That quote, from, all things, Pippin seems totally appropriate to me at this moment--early Sunday morning---after a long night of "non-sleep". What is "non-sleep"? It is when I may be physically tired, but my mind does not want to rest---so I simply cannot find sleep. Where does my mind go? Everywhere---scenes from the past---trying to define my feelings now, so I can deal with them--a real "kitchen sink" of visions and explosions. A "double whammy", as it were, because during the day, my outside world, during the "social distancing" moment, I can consider far fewer alternatives then I could when my "dream world" (the world before March 16) was alive. Still, I can move around (the block, the neighborhood) But in the 12 P.M. to 6 A.M. corridor---I am stuck, there are simply no alternatives; I must remain in the apartment---my imagination is my only escape,--darkness is prevalent.
  Last night, in the apartment, actually watched the complete first act of The Nutcracker---really enjoyed it--Balanchine's richness and detail dominate the story in Act I. Have not seen the ballet in years, and thought that I knew it quite well, but watching it last night, showed me that there are still some things that surprised me. The longest I have watched a you tube presentation---I love Balanchine, my interest in City Ballet between 68 and about 81 defines much of my life during that time. Yet no matter how fulfilled I felt as the young boy and his girl friend entered the magic land that is Act II---it could not give me sleep. Also, in the afternoon, a short walk north on Madison Avenue from 79th to 96th street was not as satisfying as I might have liked.
   So here we are, Sunday morning--there is a Sondhein tribute tonight--will try to see it, But still in this "stasis" as far as life moving forward is concerned. When Governor Cuome lifts at least some of the restrictions, maybe I can complete the song:
                                      When the phantoms of the night
                                       Will fade into the past

                                        Morning Glow will come,
                                        At last
                   

not the greatest of days...

yet a little different. It began at about 4 A.M. when cityboy awoke, and thought of his first task of the day (usually in this environment, his only task). The task was to take the subway to his bank on Union Square, and get there early, like at 8:30. This bank was only open on Monday and Friday during the pandemic, and cityboy had an important deposit to make. So the time between 4 and 8:00 in the morning when I got on the subway was spent on planning and thinking---although it was very early, cityboy's body felt great energy---energy that he had not experienced in a long time. Arriving at the bank at 8:30, a half hour before the bank's opening, cityboy was 7th on line. Yes, a lot of people had the same thought that he did, but at least he was 7th. Waiting in the "gunky" rain was not fun, but finally he made it in, did his transaction, and walked back into the cold rain. An accomplishment!
  The rest of the day has simply been his recovery from this early act--some youtube surfing and a nice talk with a younger friend. But where do we go from here? It is just turning 6, yes there are many other interesting short youtube pictures to watch, but.....have not read much as I am turning more and more to the computer.
     Under the circumstances, I am somewhat contented as I consider what I must focus on for the next few hours, but.....if only I could find something truly concrete. Oh well, check in tomorrow, and perhaps you will find out what cityboy's choices were on this wet, rainy evening.

moving through time....

not the greatest of days. The cloudy weather outside is not welcoming. After writing an early morning e mail to a friend, not a great deal is happening. But my body feels ready for a decent walk.
After this entry I will probably go out and walk north on either Broadway or West End.  Have to stop at a store selling mid size garbage bags---mine are running out, and they are much needed material during the current lockdown.
  Today reminds me of the Monday after President Kennedy's death on Friday November 22, 1963. The weekend was mostly cloudy but mild, but that Monday, with the campus (Hopkins) closed, I walked through the campus feeling an ugly chill in the air. It was as if time had stopped---the campus was deserted. The color of the weather outside today reminded me of that day. Of course, time has stopped here too, which adds to the irony.
  The next day, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, was a beautiful sunlit day. The campus was alive again, with students moving with great ease between classes. It was as if the earth had returned to its axis. Observing the easy flow around the campus, it seemed as if the trauma of the past weekend with its mourning period was forgotten. I remember thinking "Is it really this easy to return to normal?"
"Is the pain simply gone?" The color of yellow, the Indian summer kind of weather---I have never forgotten it.
  May read A Memory of Two Mondays, a one act play by Arthur Miller that was originally paired with A View From the Bridge when they opened on Broadway in 1955. Its all but forgotten as the
success of the second play exploded from the 60's on. I read it once before a few years ago, and was really impressed. See if I can check it out again.
  Well, time to get moving---will report soon.

mellowing out...

after two tough nights during which my brain would not allow my body to fall asleep. But yesterday at around 10:30---I fell into sleep almost automatically, and woke up so happy from that, that it colored the rest of the night and has moved into this morning. This may have had something to do
with a Zoom meeting with the Assembly Theater group, whom I have been following closely for the past nine (is it really that long) years.  Good to see the faces of people who are part of my universe, and glad to see them so welcoming to me. After the meeting was over, I watched a 10 minute series (six episodes) called The Rehearsal--about a 30 something actress, starring in a production of Miss Julie, and the  problems she faces. A little melodramatic for me--also all the characters surrounding this woman are either mean or vain.  So she is trapped with them, but why did the creators choose to put these people in the script? No matter, it was interesting enough to keep me involved until I chose to go to sleep, which is what it was supposed to do. After that, sleeping was easy.
    So where do we go from here? Keep your eye on the prize, cityboy, the prize being continued downward trend of in patients in the hospital, so that the city can re-open at least some bookstores or other businesses like it.  Today, my "big task" is finding a dollar store, north of 96th street, where I can by toilet paper dish towels, some toothpaste etc. Other than that, I am left to my own devices. And what are they..? Well, I guess computer serfing, reading (possibly) and "others" How will it all turn out--will my nights continue to "mellow"? We will find out, will report soon.

after a tough night...

found a web site that was presenting a full version of the opera Street Scene, by Kurt Weill (he wrote the music, lyrics by Langston Hughes and Elmer Rice, whose original play Street Scene the opera was adopted from). I have always loved this opera, with many musical comedy aspects. Got to about the end if the first quarter of the first act when I turned to the blog.
  I remember the first time I saw the opera, it was part of an all American Spring season at City Opera, then performing at the New York City Center, with its two balconies. I had a second balcony seat. I was a junior at Bronx Science, we had just moved from the "old building" on 183rd and Creston, to the "new building" about a mile north and a little west. I was infatuated with the student who was placed next to me in English, her name was Judy---we spoke a lot during class---I thought we had a real bond. She lived on 79th street and Broadway (about 3 blocks from where I live now) but which then, as a callow kid living in the Bronx, seemed so exciting to me. Many of my fellow Juniors from Bronx Science lived in Manhattan--to me so different from where I lived in the Bronx, I longed to understand just what their life was like. Judy and I "grooved" well, until she was moved again, when the tables in the English class were changed. Was I 'shattered"? No, I thought we would have some kind of a romantic life after school. That summer, I went to camp at Bard college, but my thoughts were only on returning to Science in September and finding her. We were in the same English class (journalism) so I would definitely see her again. But somehow there was a gap between my longing and her perception of me. There would be no relationship, no romance---hard for me to accept. Yet she told me very plainly that I was not for her. I could deal with that---but---finally one Monday, I walked with her to the subway, next to her best friend Susan and Susan's boyfriend, Eddie.
Just walking with her that short distance, somehow made me feel more important, alive.
  Why, I wondered, if the content was so meaningful and vital, could that not turn into a full fledged romance?
   There is a postscript to this story---I think I have written it in one of my other blog entries. In 1979 I am "hanging out" in a west side neighborhood bookstore. A woman my age stopped me and asked if I remembered her. It was Judy, very friendly, not remembering our content or her rejection of me, but anxious to talk at the moment. She told me she lived in Canada  with her husband---as we spoke I tried to act "normal" but in my mind, the passion I had felt for her, was reviving. Nothing happened--
she left, and I was left to put the whole thing together. I think I was amazed that it was she who stopped me.
  As for the opera---well, I loved it. I remember William Chapman as the vicious husband, Frank Poretta as the "tenor hero" and Sandra Lee who had a short but very funny dance number with
Richard Tone. I could not get enough of it--I returned to see it that fall when the opera company revived it again. Great music, amazing characters---great passion. It was good to hear some of it
again this morning.

from darkness into...

light---have just listened to the full performance of the Archduke Trio by Beethoven. A third movement that is terribly sad and reflective lead into a very "jaunty' final movement. And so, like the ninth symphony and the final (opus 135) quartet, Beethoven rejects the slow movement as the second one and demands that no release shall be given before the listener experiences the sadness, the warmth of the movement before. I am not saying that listening to the Ode To Joy by itself is meaningless--of course it isn't, but listening to it after Beethoven's long and elegiac third movement gives one the release and the joy that one is entitled to.
  I hear the archduke third movement in my head, as I read that the whole season of Shakespeare in the Park has been canceled. Sad upon sad. I had hoped that if things got better they could at least do
the scheduled As You Like It, but I guess not. Maybe it had something to do with funding from the city---who can say---but I was really looking forward to it.
 Will there be no theater until September or October? What about movies..? If it is true, I don't feel particularly sad about it--I can stand the wait---but...? Sitting here, trying to experience the sorrow and blocked creative feelings that my friends who are actors, playwrights and producers must be feeling. What happens to them,  both creatively and in"real life"? Nothing is certain.
  Strange day: took the subway to my bank in Union Square, only to find out it was closed. Now the only branch that is open is in Co op city, which is pretty far, and I need to deposit a check. Not sure what to do. Came back to the apartment, overate a bit, and then listened to the music. Still a lot of time in the day where do we go from here.
  Slept well yesterday, woke up feeling optimistic and accepting of the next "stay in place" order.
Probably because I was so proud of my writing for this blog and a few other things yesterday. I  feel  a nice sense of strength. I assume that will continue, will report soon.

Mozart forever...

Let's go back to the summer of 67. Cityboy is still working at the Post Office; he has no social life to speak of---some good reading during that time---The Fixer by Malamud, 36 Children by Herb Kohl, and When She Was Good, by Philip Roth. But cityboy is fascinated by Mozart. He takes endless records of the composer's chamber music, symphonies, piano concertos and operas out from the Lincoln Center Library.  Mozart, in fact has become his friend, during this time of barren relationships. He listens "hard" hoping to connect the musical ideas of one piece to another. He looks for quotes from the operas he has become fascinated by: The Marriage of Figaro; Don Giovanni, Cosi Fan Tutti and the Magic Flute, in the concertos, chamber music, etc. Above all, he feels alone, and the music and its meaning helps define him during this time. It is a time of transition---of some new friends, Fred, a young scene designer also with a great love of classical music (especially opera) with whom he discusses musical ideas endlessly. He listens to two, three versions of the operas,  looking for different approaches to the material. No women---and he is acutely aware of this. The woman whom he was most interested in when he was a senior at Hopkins--- three years earlier--she was a freshman at Goucher then---has just sent him a letter which rejects him furiously.  So it is time to begin again. In a few months he will leave the monotonous job at the Post Office and rejoin the "real" world,  by obtaining a job with a social work organization called Riverdale Children's Association. It handles black foster homes and the children who live there. It's office, believe it or not, is at 12 east 79 street, a strange place for mostly people of color to visit who live in Brooklyn or Queens. But there it is. It is three years after he graduated from Hopkins, hoping for a "major career in the American theater" but all that has changed. He still wants to prove himself but "real life' means getting a day job, one that interests him and having the nights to go out and explore
  This passage was provoked simply by listening to one of Mozart's String Quartets---K 458, and experiencing it deeply. The music brought back all these memories of the strangeness and the sadness of that time. The Governor has just announced that social distancing will be in place, for the next few
weeks. Cityboy expected to react with anger, but instead feels relaxed--maybe now he can have some vision for how to live in these few weeks.. Maybe it is time renew his fascination for Mozart--look
at a lot of his chamber music, piano concertos, etc. Time seems to have opened up before him---time
to be spent mostly in his small apartment---but nevertheless there are things that he can gain from that.
So that is where we stand now.  I don't really want to end, but this should do it. Will report again soon.

tuesday night...

I sit at the computer and look at google maps browsing through the eastern area of what we call "The South Bronx". I have joined a few groups of former Bronxites, most of them in their seventies or around there---they grew up in all parts of the Bronx, but are no longer there now. Why? Because the Bronx is a different place, dominated by poor people of color. But some posters were talking about a bar on the corner of Westchester Avenue and Simpson Street---where Westchester Avenue veers east and where the 2 train joins Southern Boulevard. Of course the bar is no longer there---when I tutored in the Bronx I would pass this station and see a gigantic Dunkin Donuts on the corner---I guess that is where the bar once was. It is like living in two worlds. What is going on there now, is of little interest to these posters--yet I am hunted by the dis-conjunction of the two worlds. If that was an all Jewish neighborhood, or close, when was the last Beethoven String Quartet played on a phonograph in one of those apartment. 63? 64? I grapple with these questions.
  I stopped tutoring in the Bronx about 8 years ago. Have I even taken the 2 train since? What about returning to Pelham Parkway, my old neighborhood, which is much more mellow then the neighborhood that I have just described. Perhaps when this is over, or close to over, I can do it.
  For two days, I have answered questions that my friend Sarah has posed to me about the history of the theater---50 to now. It has been an invigorating process--I have worked hard to give her a sense of what theater was like during the 50's, 60's, 70's and the next two decades. Sometimes I am amazed at how much knowledge I hold in me. I have e mailed her the answers to her questions; I have two more to go
    Tomorrow is the day that the woman who cleans my apartment (and does a great job) is scheduled to come to clean. But I have not heard from her yet. I wonder if she is okay. My apartment is a mess---definitely in need of a good cleaning--but if she does not come--well we will see.

A difficult day today...

for city boy. Possibly. Not a lot of energy as I sit at the computer around lunch time.
  Yesterday: city boy took a long walk after a (fulfilling) slice of pizza at 80th street and Amsterdam Avenue. By the time the walk was over, he was standing on 116 street and Broadway, feeling somewhat tired. A bus came, and cityboy thought it was a 104, so he climbed on. About 8 people were on the bus, which these days, is a lot. Imagine his surprise when, at 110th street, the bus took a left. Uh-oh, thought cityboy, this must be a 4, and if I don't get off it on one or two blocks, I shall be riding south on 5th Avenue. Actually, that was not such a bad idea, but cityboy thought better of it, and got off the bus at110th street and Columbus. And then he decided not to wait for the two buses that go south there, but to walk the rest of the way,  back to 76 street. And so he did, stopping only for a chocolate chip cookie around 90th street.  A great walk---back and forth, yes..? Yes, this has left him very tired for today. That and of course, the usual up and down sleep that he experiences every night.
    Was it the walk that is making his body feel so energy-less at this given moment? Can't say, but probably it contributed to it. So today, I sit at my screen---for the past 20 minutes of so, I have been looking at real estate sites in the Bronx and Brooklyn Ah, the Bronx---as I try to make sense of the changes in each neighborhood that I look at on the maps. And Brooklyn, where even in Flatbush, the apartments seem incredibly expensive. But I look, and look and then go to the map and try to see the whole street that the apartment for sale is on. I want to really take it easy today.
    Last night, I did not leave the apartment, once I returned from the walk, but I did watch two shows that until now, I have not been able to see. First was part 1 of The Night Of, which I had heard a lot about. A muslim college student who picks up a spacey white girl is arrested for her murder. I stopped after about 40 minutes--even before the young man had been accused. Before that he seemed to be taunted by everyone---the cops were brutal on him even before they accused him of the crime. Had to stop---I just could not take it. Then the pilot episode of The Wire, the much praised show about cops and pushers in Baltimore. I watched the whole thing, it is effective, but I was turned off by the incredible amount of cursing, and also the complete macho vision of the piece. Dramatically it was effective---the two worlds that will interact through the rest of the series---the cops and the drug dealers who dominate the poor sections of Baltimore---sections that are truly cut off from the rest of the city---are set up well, as it the nature of the conflict: can the police break through the strength of the drug dealers, who frighten everyone else in the black community into silence, and bring the leaders of the drug gang to justice?  I would like to see how it turns out, but don't know if I really have a desire to see another episode. Will have to wait and see.
  This is a whole new world of choices that are opening up to me, because I now have the computer; how much of a good thing that is will have to be determined. I miss reading---there is nothing in
the apartment that I feel motivated to read at length--but I want to limit my computer time, at least
for today.
  Still a lot of the day to live through, today, huh cityboy?  How will it turn out?

putting it together..

Here we are, another Saturday. So many different feelings about my "fate".  On one hand I am pleased that the situation in the city and state seems to be improving, in terms of admissions and i c u treatments (less).  That means, perhaps we are a little closer to some kind of "freedom" or resolve of this lockdown. I understand what my "part" is in this. Glad to play it. But the restlessness, the constriction, even with a new computer to where I can explore numerous web sites---still difficult.
It is cold in the morning---lots of wind from yesterday---the afternoon promises to be better--must get out and walk! Probably I will stay in Manhattan today, maybe a bus ride across town and then a walk on second or third avenue north to 96th street, or perhaps even further. Remember when 96th street on the east side was this brutal boundary between the rich and the poor? That is changed now---even as much as 20 years ago, I began to read about coffee shops north of 96th where the white mothers would bring their children and congregate. The first time I read this I was amazed---but that was twenty years ago.
  This reminds me of a day in March 1967. I read that a jewish older man was murdered in the area near Yankee stadium in the Bronx, and that that area, which I had always seen as safe and secure, was changing rapidly---from middle class to poor. Also, that there were "patrols" on the street in response to the increase in muggings and attacks in that area,   I think I was stunned when I read that---I remember calling out sick that afternoon (I was sorting mail in the post office, believe it or not) and going to the area myself. What I saw was a racially mixed area, but still sufficiently white. I don't think I did much exploring that day--- I did not notice anything that I would consider dangerous, but still, the area was changing---the Jewish population that had populated the area for so long would be leaving more and more in the coming years, And the Grand Concourse--one the "Park Avenue of the
Bronx" would be a different world.
Back to the present--have been listening a lot to Natasha and Pierre---love some of that music. The more I listen the more inventive it becomes to me. Not sure what is next, will report soon.

getting through the day....

yes, today is kind of rough. Already took a long walk down a mostly deserted Riverside Drive. Good for the body. Took a free 104 bus back. As I said to a friend in an e mail post yesterday, no one, on these walks makes eye contact--there is a sullen, withdrawn feeling when one passes someone. A friend who is living in Chicago now, writes that in her neighborhood (upper middle class, I presume) the weather is warm, everyone is out and people are greeting each other. Not here, not by a long shot. Glad that I could take the walk, however, my lower body and legs really needed it. Now it is raining, so who can say the next time I will be out.
  Received an e mail from an opera company that I follow. It had members of their company singing "Make Our Garden Grow", that amazing song from Candide, Music by Bernstein, lyrics by Richard Wilbur (the poet, the only musical that he ever participated in). Very moving, it is a beautiful song. Do you remember the first time you heard that music city boy? Try January 1, 1957. Yes, my dad and I went down to the Martin Beck theater and got last minute side orchestra tickets to Candide. What a mess of a musical it was---I remember Barbara Cook singing Glitter and be Gay, the audience cracking up, and me laughing heartily, yet I had no idea what was so funny. The musical was staged by Tyrone Guthrie and the staging was a bit outlandish--at two intervals a man in a shark dress appeared to drag Dr. Pangloss down to the bottom of the ocean and replace him with his "other side" Martin. Then the same shark appeared a few scenes later to replace Martin with the still alive Dr. Pangloss. There were some great things in it, but the book was a mess, and you could say it really had no center. I have seen other versions since---Hal Prince's one in 74, may have been the most successful---staging the musical  like a hippy pageant---although this meant that the serious ending could only be suggested.  Since then, so many directors have tried to enforce their vision on it.
It's tough, but hay, the music is truly beautiful.
  So, the day continues. The rain seems to be letting up. So many interesting things to check out on you tube, etc. but what do i really want to see? Will continue, tomorrow.

some ups and some....

downs---a strange day, fairly uneventful. I received some good news this morning. My first stimulus bonus on unemployment came through. I now have more money in the bank then I have had for a long time, and should have more. But so what..? What is there to spend it on? The city is still a dead zone. Nevertheless, it is nice that it came in. Also, returned two e mails from friends whom I was very happy to hear from. But the day went slow, and my energy was not especially high. Probably because I did not sleep well last night. Tonight...? We will see.
  Less people are being admitted to the hospitals at this point, but some politicians continue to paint a brutal picture---and I don't like it. I hope at least part of this lockdown can be lifted soon.

Try a memory, city boy---try to escape into the world of the past. Does not quite work. Remember the first spring you spent in Baltimore---your freshman year at Hopkins. What do you remember. A garbage role in the spring production of Mr. Roberts (after playing a lead role in the winter play). The heat---warmer and softer than in NYC. Space---Baltimore had so much more space, so much more sky then NYC. That is what I really liked--the "softness" of the city, or the area where Hopkins was. Going out with girls from the Baltimore high schools. Sometimes I think you remember too much.
The trip to DC to see Carnival before it came to Broadway---coudn't even get a standing room. Instead my friend and I went to Arena's production of Tiger at the Gates--not very good. One of those days that were sad. The reason why we went (or at least the reason why I went) was because Saturday was a major dance, and I had no date. I remember coming home feeling very defeated.

Would like to return to DC this summer--maybe my new found money will enable me to take a longer trip then last summer (2 or 3 days instead of just one sleepover)  Well, we will see...

time is delivered so differently...

during the shut down. No longer do I have to be somewhere at a deliberate time, now as I look at my watch in the afternoon, it seems the more time anything takes, the better. The slower I have to move, the longer I stay out which means I come home later. Time flattens out. I have no rush to be anywhere because nothing is happening. So the more a trip or walk expands, the better.
  This afternoon, I arrived at the 125th street 1 train station just as a local was pulling out. The next one: 14 minutes. Oh well, I thought, why not? Get some reading done, there is no rush. As it was I was in the middle of a really skillful short story by Somerset Maugham.  Its called "The Outstation".
After a really strong passage---I stopped--looked east from the elevated tracks. And for a moment I thought: yes, I am glad the city is dead. I love the quietness--nothing frenetic--no people running up and down the streets as would be if this was a normal day. Yes, for that moment the silence, the emptiness seemed totally appropriate.
    Yesterday afternoon: took the 1 to 59th street, then the A. Debated if I should get off at the first stop in Brooklyn---High Street_--and walk around Brooklyn Heights. It would be interesting to see the Heights during lockdown. But I decided not to. I would stick with the "tried and true" that is getting off at Lafayette, near the now shuttered Gotham Market, and proceeding from there.  Got off, had a nice cup of coffee, sitting at one of the open squares, and headed east. Were there people on the street---some, some wearing masks, some not. Managed to walk as far as Franklin Street. There, I thought that I might take a bus that runs from Crown Heights into Flatbush, but decided that it was better simply to walk south. I walked from Fulton to Eastern Parkway, a pretty easy walk. On the way, I passed different streets, some had apartment houses on them, some had beautiful brownstones. Again, i asked myself, what was this neighborhood like while I was growing up? Were the apartment houses mostly populated by Jewish people? And the Brownstones? Who owned them? Were some rooming houses..? Growing up my parents had many friends, and I had many kid friends, but all, but a few who lived in the suburbs,  lived in apartments, big and small. At the Parkway, by the Franklin Avenue station, I found a bench, sat and watched people going by. Lots of couples, some families with children--single people, joggers--no one whom I knew, so there was no conversation, but I thought-well my observations have become conversation---that is all there is now.
  So it ended and I returned home.

Okay, city boy---deliver it....

Sunday early evening----have returned to the apartment after  trip to Brooklyn. Interesting how I feel. Like an eight year old child who has lots of treasures in his room---his parents are in another part of the house, so he has permission to turn his room into whatever he wants it to be? Is this right?  The virus has---i don't know. Do I really wish the solitude of the evening---call a friend..? Not sure.  
  Two trips. yesterday, the 79th street crosstown to Lexington, then south on Lexington to Third then by the 50;s far east to Sutton Place,. My friend, the actor Jamie Sanchez has an apartment in that area---I was hoping to run into him---I did not. Still, the trip was interesting---constantly observing the juxtaposition between the older tenement and apartment buildings---brownstones as well, and the new luxury monoliths that are all over the area. Sometimes I look at the remaining tenements and to me they seem like helpless children---its only a matter of time before they are replaced by a high rise. Although with all the money that has been lost because of the virus--one wonders how many of the luxury places will have offers. The rich has lost money too (I guess). At any rate, back to third up to 34th and then a brief stay at the pedestrian walk place that begins on 34th and Park, and continues south on Park to 28th street. I did not go all the way--I was tired so at 34th determined that I should take a crosstown bus to 7th Avenue and then the train home.
   This afternoon, somewhat hesitant about taking the subway all the way into Brooklyn. I should not have been--it was no sweat. Began (as usual) at Fulton near BAM, and then walked east to Franklin Avenue---then south on Franklin to Eastern Parkway. A good strong walk, then I found a bench on the parkway and read and observed for about 40 minutes. A nice short story by Elizabeth Parsons called "And the Nightingale Sings". But every few paragraphs I would just stop and watch the couples, joggers, single people walking by. Considering the virus, that spot was great for people watching---lots of people moving north-south or east-west--all observing social distancing.
  As I sat there, the novel in my mind takes place. When I was growing up, the area was mostly Jewish middle class, a mirror image of my neighborhood in the Bronx. Then they were replaced
by the black community, and for the last 15 years, the young professionals, mostly white have returned. I tried to understand the whole thing---but how do you put it into words? Who would the characters be. Why would a 70 something man be returning to the neighborhood. What would he want? Lots of feelings as I sat there---can the imagination be corralled into something concrete.
Do I want to?
   Lets leave it there---and see what happens tomorrow...

Saturday morning...

the beginning of a long day. Already have heard on you tube the final scene from Yeoman of the Guard and Opening Doors. Sondheim and Sullivan---quite a group! Now what? All the music in the world...all the classical music that I have wanted to check out for a while, but could not because my dvd player was broken, is at my fingertips. But so what? I am still here in one place. Something artificial about that. In the hospitals, dedicated people risking their lives---in the apartments, trying to cope.
 So what is the plan? I would like to hear at least the beginning of the broadcast of Orfeo this afternoon on the Metropolitan Opera playbacks. The music has always interested me, but I have never really had  chance to listen carefully to it. After that---have to get out---to where---is it too risky to try to get to Brooklyn? Not sure. Can go to the open space that the city has provided on Park Avenue between 34th and 28th street. I wonder if it will be more populated then last Friday. But must go, or be, somewhere.
  Last night read all of Auster's short novel The Locked Room. Really a compelling and remarkable work. A writer leading a "normal" if somewhat isolated life in NYC (that is how all of Auster's heroes seem to begin)  is asked by the wife of his former best friend to catalogue the best friend's writing. This guy, named Fanshawe, has simply disappeared, leaving his wife and infant behind.
Thus begins the narrator's adventure, as he slowly takes over, or becomes obsessed with the writing and identity of Fanshawe. Lots of ideas about doubling, or one personalty being absorbed into another. Could not put it down, even if I was getting tired towards the end. It was intense.
  Is that all? Well, for now, yes--maybe some memories tomorrow---since yesterday's post I have started a post on the Facebook page for growing up in the Bronx, 40's, 50's, 60's. The post, which was about the difference between a trip to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yankees and a trip to the Polo Grounds to watch the Giants got about 8 replies. Very good. I added a postscript this morning, so we will see how that goes. Anyway, should report tomorrow.

to begin again...

Am I ready to begin again. Now the computer is in my home---truly part of my life. A totally different reality, in that I can go to it any time---find any web site that I wish, ad infinitum. Up to Tuesday, being stuck mostly in the apartment meant I had two choices: to read or to call or text friends. Very simple. In between that was simply contemplation---a silence--almost a voyage between the two choices. Now comes the computer--the third choice. Well, it is mine now, and I better deal with it. So what does that mean about putting things down here.
  Just finished the first Paul Auster novel, City of Glass--kind of fascinating if a bit opaque, but that is probably what he wants. As is usual in Auster, there are shifting points of view, realities that lead to other realities and also a lot of "doubles" ,that is people who morph at times into other people.
  So where to begin? Should I create memories on this blog, or talk about the present. Last night I was able to find an hour film about the making of West Side Story---it covered a lot of ground that I already knew, but I always get a kick out of listening to the interviews of some in the original cast, or hearing the endless anecdotes about Bernstein, Robbins etc. Also have played "opening doors" my favorite Sondheim, from Merrily We Roll Along, several times---it brings me much happiness. Merrily in some ways for me echoes West Side Story---don't ask me to explain the links, but in some ways it does. Even Merrily's overture---a truly brilliant piece by itself--seems to echo the West Side Story overture.
   Also yesterday,  I took a walk---from 76th and West End to 119th and Broadway. A long walk, but my body really loves doing it. During this lockdown, it is important to me to leave the apartment, unless the weather is really bad. Not sure about today---the weather is "grimy', but definitely tomorrow and Sunday---possibly I will end up in Brooklyn again.
  But that remains to be seen. Will stop now---and try to keep going most days.