No, the Resident whom I spent about 40 minutes with yesterday morning made it clear that the colonoscopy had to happen. It was fact after fact---I had no excuses or could not walk away from it. The doctors have to see what is there. So I left the Ryan Health Center far more grounded then when I came in. Now it is just a question of waiting it out, day by day.
Still uncertain about how one feels on the day of the prep. After taking the first golightly group, will I be tired, or able to move around? As I come closer to it, I try to imagine just what will happen to my stomach, and by definition, the rest of me, as the prep day progresses. Luckily I will have support from my friend Sarah, who will be around the apartment most of Monday, and will take me and bring me back from the procedure on Tuesday. Make no mistake, it will happen.
Had several tasks to take care of this morning---have done them all- so lots of free time. It is expected to be incredibly hot today, that means I will probably spend most of the time in the apartment. Did not read any of Suite Francaise yesterday--will probably get back to it today. I assume it will still fascinate me.
For the past hour, I have been visiting the website called Playbillvault. There I can see programs from most Broadway productions, and also cast lists, usually with replacements. That is what fascinates me still, how one cast member replaces another, and the overall effect this replacement has on the production (assuming it does). I languish in musicals of the fifties because I saw so many of them. Looked at the original program of Brigadoon (my first Broadway show), then at the programs for the several revivals of the piece, all of which I saw. I was four years old and 4 months when I first saw it---of course I remember very little about that---some images of the dancers but not much else. But I was spellbound, and I must have behaved because four months later my father took me to see The Mikado---the D'Oyly Carte company was over from England at the time.
There was a revival of Brigadoon at City Center a few years later. My father took me to that one. At that point, narrative was much clearer to me--as the play progressed I remember thinking "oh, so that is what that scene is about" as I tried to match it to some vague memory of the earlier production.
Not much else to talk about---but will report soon.
Thursday, July 30, 2020
Tuesday, July 28, 2020
It is really interesting..
the kind of dialogue one can have with oneself when choosing something to read. Here I am in the middle of the brilliant Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky. Its depiction what those who left Paris as the Nazis arrived is tough and ultra realistic. Earlier today I was not sure I wanted to return to it---did i want to observe all that horror which seems never to end for the characters. It is an incredibly hot day, and I figured that I would spend most of the afternoon indoors (that may change, it is about 1 P.M. now, and I might need to get out). An earlier plan had me reading to Agatha Christie mystery that i just bought, maybe cover to cover. This is where the self-dialogue comes in---I think of the Christie and I know it won't touch me, but will absorb me. Like being with an easy going person. And then I think of Suite Francaise, and my inner voice tells me the going may be tough---but the experience will be much richer. So far I have stayed with it---it is enveloping me in its toughness, but I am becoming more attracted and easier with its depictions. Will probably stay with this for a while. That is the saga of the two books.
Time moves slowly today, but I am more relaxed. Less anticipation about the colonoscopy---it will arrive when it arrives. Had a good consultation with a therapist yesterday, which helped me center my feelings about the event.
That's really all---time to get back to the Nemirovsky, I think. Maybe check out MLB.com and see if the Yankee game will happen tonight. Just take it moment to moment.
Time moves slowly today, but I am more relaxed. Less anticipation about the colonoscopy---it will arrive when it arrives. Had a good consultation with a therapist yesterday, which helped me center my feelings about the event.
That's really all---time to get back to the Nemirovsky, I think. Maybe check out MLB.com and see if the Yankee game will happen tonight. Just take it moment to moment.
Sunday, July 26, 2020
coming to terms....
The last 36 hours have been a study in contrasts. Yesterday morning---finally felt that I was in command of my stomach enough to head out to Bed-Stuy and visit my friend Riley, currently a barista at a new coffee place on Halsey Street right off Tompkins Street. An easy trip, right off the A train---you might say that Halsey and Tompkins is the pure heart of Bed-Stuy. First I had trouble finding the shop, so I wandered north on Tompkins for a few blocks. Here I saw the following: groups of black people congregating while mostly young white people (some with families) moved back and fourth. An interesting contrast---neither group seems to pay much attention to the other.
As I searched for Riley's place of work---I became hungry to look at all the streets in Bed-Stuy, to understand the Brownstones and their history, to simply give myself a day to wander all those streets. Last year that would have been easy---this year---not sure. Soon arrived at the coffee shop, took my ice coffee and while Riley served other customers, headed to the patio to read Suite Francaise, the brilliantly written novel by Irene Nemirovsky that details in great depth, the frightening displacement of some citizens of Paris, as the Nazis invaded them. It is a hard book to read; the pain and and horror of the evacuees is brutal. But I liked the shop---tables spaced nicely between each other---i can see myself coming back again to read and hang out---as long as I can take the trip.
After a bout an hour, it was time to move on---I did not want to go home yet---I wanted to stop off at the Center for Fiction, located across the street from BAM, and see what was going on there---they had just reopened. It was hot, but I managed to walk the two blocks from Tompkins to Nostrand, and jump on an A making local stops---which let me off very near the Center. First I checked my other
"hangouts" in the area--the Gotham Market, BRIC,---all closed---even the Center was really a ghost of its pre-pandemic self. Lots of books to consider, but the other rooms that one could sit in and read, or write were not open, nor was the snack bar. So I did not stay there long. At least proud of myself for "daring" to leave my neighborhood, I jumped on a 2 and was back on the upper west side around 2:30.
My body could hardly move when I arrived, and for most of the afternoon, I listened to the Mets-Braves game, or slept. Out a few times to buy supplies and food--fell asleep around 9:30. Then it happened.
About 1:30 awoke---body full of energy---no interest in sleep--it stayed that way until about 4 or
4:30. Tried to control the situation---many times lay down to try to sleep, but would always realize that my body was not in a sleep place. I was amazed how much energy was available to me, but what could I do with it?--at that time my eyes are tired, so it is hard to read or put on the computer.
Finally rested, then it was time to get ready for the morning four block coffee walk.
Now, as it is almost 1P.M., the stomach cramps are back---I assume that they are cyclical and I can just wait it out. But they are harsh. With the heat intense, I am remaining in the apartment---will
probably listen to the Yankee game, just beginning or read. Just returned from a short trip to Barnes and Noble, where i bought an Agatha Christie mystery---I needed a strong contast to the novel about
the french people fleeing the Nazis and the chaos that ensued. Should report tomorrow to reveal how all this was settled.
As I searched for Riley's place of work---I became hungry to look at all the streets in Bed-Stuy, to understand the Brownstones and their history, to simply give myself a day to wander all those streets. Last year that would have been easy---this year---not sure. Soon arrived at the coffee shop, took my ice coffee and while Riley served other customers, headed to the patio to read Suite Francaise, the brilliantly written novel by Irene Nemirovsky that details in great depth, the frightening displacement of some citizens of Paris, as the Nazis invaded them. It is a hard book to read; the pain and and horror of the evacuees is brutal. But I liked the shop---tables spaced nicely between each other---i can see myself coming back again to read and hang out---as long as I can take the trip.
After a bout an hour, it was time to move on---I did not want to go home yet---I wanted to stop off at the Center for Fiction, located across the street from BAM, and see what was going on there---they had just reopened. It was hot, but I managed to walk the two blocks from Tompkins to Nostrand, and jump on an A making local stops---which let me off very near the Center. First I checked my other
"hangouts" in the area--the Gotham Market, BRIC,---all closed---even the Center was really a ghost of its pre-pandemic self. Lots of books to consider, but the other rooms that one could sit in and read, or write were not open, nor was the snack bar. So I did not stay there long. At least proud of myself for "daring" to leave my neighborhood, I jumped on a 2 and was back on the upper west side around 2:30.
My body could hardly move when I arrived, and for most of the afternoon, I listened to the Mets-Braves game, or slept. Out a few times to buy supplies and food--fell asleep around 9:30. Then it happened.
About 1:30 awoke---body full of energy---no interest in sleep--it stayed that way until about 4 or
4:30. Tried to control the situation---many times lay down to try to sleep, but would always realize that my body was not in a sleep place. I was amazed how much energy was available to me, but what could I do with it?--at that time my eyes are tired, so it is hard to read or put on the computer.
Finally rested, then it was time to get ready for the morning four block coffee walk.
Now, as it is almost 1P.M., the stomach cramps are back---I assume that they are cyclical and I can just wait it out. But they are harsh. With the heat intense, I am remaining in the apartment---will
probably listen to the Yankee game, just beginning or read. Just returned from a short trip to Barnes and Noble, where i bought an Agatha Christie mystery---I needed a strong contast to the novel about
the french people fleeing the Nazis and the chaos that ensued. Should report tomorrow to reveal how all this was settled.
Friday, July 24, 2020
baseball?
Yeah, baseball! Just finished the last two innings of the Mets opening day game. Very exciting. I am not a Met fan by any means, and really did not take this "limited" season very seriously, yet there I was, top of the ninth, routing for Edwin Diaz, the Mets relief pitcher, to put the Braves to sleep and win the game. A run one game, so he had to be careful. And that is what happened. For a few moments I was totally with it. Maybe this is a good sign. There is probably nine more weeks to go in the regular season. If I have to be home, with just the radio and computer---if some of these games can capture my imagination, then, it is only for the better.
The first year I followed baseball day by day was 1951. It was a great year to do it---the debuts of Willie Mays, the Dodger-Giant playoff---the Yankees winning at the last moment---all events I followed very closely. My father was a math teacher who loved theater (and secondly movies) and was not terribly interested in sports in general, but he went with me to about nine or ten games that year---and followed along with me. Of course, all four of us---my brother (then 4), my mom, dad and myself were watching the television when Bobby Thompson hit his "shot heard round the world". That home run, in the last inning of the Dodger-Giant playoff, gave the pennant to the Giants---they were three runs behind when the inning began. Wow! Still an extremely exciting memory. I saw games that year in both Yankee Stadium and the Polo Grounds, but the latter ball park was much more inviting--one could get a ticket at the last minute and have a nice seat in the second deck.
Otherwise, not much to report---my life just centers around my apartment---my energy level weaves in and out. Next book up is Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky--a book I have wanted to read for a long time. Will report on that and other things, soon.
The first year I followed baseball day by day was 1951. It was a great year to do it---the debuts of Willie Mays, the Dodger-Giant playoff---the Yankees winning at the last moment---all events I followed very closely. My father was a math teacher who loved theater (and secondly movies) and was not terribly interested in sports in general, but he went with me to about nine or ten games that year---and followed along with me. Of course, all four of us---my brother (then 4), my mom, dad and myself were watching the television when Bobby Thompson hit his "shot heard round the world". That home run, in the last inning of the Dodger-Giant playoff, gave the pennant to the Giants---they were three runs behind when the inning began. Wow! Still an extremely exciting memory. I saw games that year in both Yankee Stadium and the Polo Grounds, but the latter ball park was much more inviting--one could get a ticket at the last minute and have a nice seat in the second deck.
Otherwise, not much to report---my life just centers around my apartment---my energy level weaves in and out. Next book up is Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky--a book I have wanted to read for a long time. Will report on that and other things, soon.
Thursday, July 23, 2020
thinking about Richard II
Have just finished reading this amazing play. Very separate from the other works of Shakespeare, I don't think there is another like it. Certainly stylistically very different from the eight other history plays that Shakespeare is said to have written. The verse is incredibly rich---lots of Bible imagery. It has a solid dramatic arc; but Richard changes abruptly once Bolingbroke returns to England. As King he is sharp, caddy, loves to make word play with what others give him. Once defeated, he seems obsessed with measuring power---of course particularly the power of he and Bolingbroke. I felt really excited and involved reading it.
For the rest of the day I stayed close to the apartment, spoke to a few friends and my niece---read a little bit in Riverside Park. Am I like a set piece in my apartment? In the early days of the pandemic, I would plan a walk of about 20 blocks, in some cases maybe more, and usually follow it through. Of course, that was before the stomach cramps increased---and I received the news of the lower red blood cell count. Certain streets in Brooklyn or the Lower East Side where I used to walk all the time, come into my head. Will I return there? Has it just become normal for me to remain close to the apartment---does the intense heat of the last few days, simply make it impossible for me to do any traveling? Or my strange sleep patterns? Not sure, will have to take it day by day.
Just realized that the first scheduled baseball game of the "curtailed" season is being played as I write this. Should check it out---see if I can muster up some enthusiasm for this strange, put together season. Will report soon.
For the rest of the day I stayed close to the apartment, spoke to a few friends and my niece---read a little bit in Riverside Park. Am I like a set piece in my apartment? In the early days of the pandemic, I would plan a walk of about 20 blocks, in some cases maybe more, and usually follow it through. Of course, that was before the stomach cramps increased---and I received the news of the lower red blood cell count. Certain streets in Brooklyn or the Lower East Side where I used to walk all the time, come into my head. Will I return there? Has it just become normal for me to remain close to the apartment---does the intense heat of the last few days, simply make it impossible for me to do any traveling? Or my strange sleep patterns? Not sure, will have to take it day by day.
Just realized that the first scheduled baseball game of the "curtailed" season is being played as I write this. Should check it out---see if I can muster up some enthusiasm for this strange, put together season. Will report soon.
Wednesday, July 22, 2020
Wednesday morning---from "darkness into light"
Yesterday might have been a breakthrough day--why? A totally different sleep pattern.
Let's back up: my apartment was cleaned, yesterday. It happens every four weeks---a woman who was recommended by my last "cleaner" has been coming for about a year. As a person she is a little standoffish---maybe shy, but she does an incredible job cleaning the apartment. Try to imagine what it was like before she came---papers, books, paper towels strewn all over the place. The events of the past few weeks--the doctor's visits, the medical revelations, the appointment slips--all probably added to this maddening chaos. I probably throw away half of what I can.
She comes: I leave the apartment for about an hour and a half---I return and...."voila!" I don't even recognize the space. She has transformed it into an apartment that one would think a rational person lives in. Everything in order---no dirt---amazing! A sigh of relief from me. The rest of the day would be very peaceful.
And yes, a calm and sense of completion came over me---I rested for a little while, then went out to buy food---but for the first time it seemed that my body and my brain were in harmony---both wanted to sleep. It went even further into the evening, and that difficult time for me--from about 1 A.M. to 4:30 A.M, ---often a time when my body says "rest" and my brain says "don't bug me, I am restless", well, believe it or not, I slept through most of that. I can't remember the last time that happened. It is now around 6:30 and I am feeling ready to go. What's next? Really can't say, remember, my body goes in cycles--I don't know what the next change will be. I do know that sleeping this way for the first time in so long has left me incredibly calmer.
While the apartment was being cleaned I was at Barnes and Noble, bought Shakespeare's Richard II; I think listening to the Public Theater virtual performance last week encouraged me to explore the play again. The copy that I bought has a very complete analysis of the play, in addition to the play itself. I admired a lot of the virtual reading last week (probably very hard to put together) but I think there is so much more ground that they did not cover. Well, the play is mine now, and I have plenty of time to read or consider it.
The day begins---will report soon.
Let's back up: my apartment was cleaned, yesterday. It happens every four weeks---a woman who was recommended by my last "cleaner" has been coming for about a year. As a person she is a little standoffish---maybe shy, but she does an incredible job cleaning the apartment. Try to imagine what it was like before she came---papers, books, paper towels strewn all over the place. The events of the past few weeks--the doctor's visits, the medical revelations, the appointment slips--all probably added to this maddening chaos. I probably throw away half of what I can.
She comes: I leave the apartment for about an hour and a half---I return and...."voila!" I don't even recognize the space. She has transformed it into an apartment that one would think a rational person lives in. Everything in order---no dirt---amazing! A sigh of relief from me. The rest of the day would be very peaceful.
And yes, a calm and sense of completion came over me---I rested for a little while, then went out to buy food---but for the first time it seemed that my body and my brain were in harmony---both wanted to sleep. It went even further into the evening, and that difficult time for me--from about 1 A.M. to 4:30 A.M, ---often a time when my body says "rest" and my brain says "don't bug me, I am restless", well, believe it or not, I slept through most of that. I can't remember the last time that happened. It is now around 6:30 and I am feeling ready to go. What's next? Really can't say, remember, my body goes in cycles--I don't know what the next change will be. I do know that sleeping this way for the first time in so long has left me incredibly calmer.
While the apartment was being cleaned I was at Barnes and Noble, bought Shakespeare's Richard II; I think listening to the Public Theater virtual performance last week encouraged me to explore the play again. The copy that I bought has a very complete analysis of the play, in addition to the play itself. I admired a lot of the virtual reading last week (probably very hard to put together) but I think there is so much more ground that they did not cover. Well, the play is mine now, and I have plenty of time to read or consider it.
The day begins---will report soon.
Monday, July 20, 2020
Early Monday morning...
heat---unbearable--at least that is what I thought yesterday---remained in the apartment most of the day---today it is forecast that the heat will even be stronger--where does that leave me in terms of plans? Ironically enough I woke up early this morning feeling stronger in my body then I have in a long time. Could take the subway somewhere, but what if there is a blackout---always a possibility. So I will probably stay around the apartment again, unless I can invent some other plan.
Summary of yesterday: three good conversations on the phone with friends and a nice conversation with my brother, who is in LA, probably the best one we have had in a long time. Long story about how he and his friend Michael were perfectly situated to get the roles of Lenny and Squiggy in Laverne and Shirley. He has a great memory, gave me the info detail by detail. I admire him for dealing with his MS in the way that he is doing---being very outgoing, and, I think, stressing the positive. Lots of stories I could tell about our friendship which peaked during the four years I was at Hopkins. We went to so many musicals and plays together at that time---always waited outside the stage door, if there was a "West Side Story" graduate in the cast of whatever musical we saw that day. He also put up with my "dating problems" which were many during that time. Yes, that was a good time for us.
Rest of the day: rented The Wizard of Lies, the HBO movie directed by Barry Levinson and starring Robert de Niro about Bernie Madoff. I had wanted to see this movie for a long time---being stuck in the apartment yesterday, it seemed like a perfect choice. Now I am a little disappointed. Everyone's work is very very good--in addition to De Niro there is a great cast---but the movie can't break into the one dimensionality of Madoff's personality. The script tries to get under the surface of the man, but it can't break through---I don't think that anyone really could. Madoff to me is the ultimate "Hollow Man". He did what he did because...well I guess because he could. But I wonder, as he became closer and closer to being caught, did he fantasize what life in prison would be like. Here is a man of tremendous power, who loves to use it, but who makes a choice to start a Ponzi scheme that, when it falls, will ha have to spend the rest of his life as a cypher--and all the aspects of his life that were so important---the money, the travel, the homes, the power---gone. The movie dances around this conundrum---scenes throughout it simply repeat what we already know. After the first hour, my mind began to wander.
That is a lot for one session---Monday is just beginning---we will see what happens.
Summary of yesterday: three good conversations on the phone with friends and a nice conversation with my brother, who is in LA, probably the best one we have had in a long time. Long story about how he and his friend Michael were perfectly situated to get the roles of Lenny and Squiggy in Laverne and Shirley. He has a great memory, gave me the info detail by detail. I admire him for dealing with his MS in the way that he is doing---being very outgoing, and, I think, stressing the positive. Lots of stories I could tell about our friendship which peaked during the four years I was at Hopkins. We went to so many musicals and plays together at that time---always waited outside the stage door, if there was a "West Side Story" graduate in the cast of whatever musical we saw that day. He also put up with my "dating problems" which were many during that time. Yes, that was a good time for us.
Rest of the day: rented The Wizard of Lies, the HBO movie directed by Barry Levinson and starring Robert de Niro about Bernie Madoff. I had wanted to see this movie for a long time---being stuck in the apartment yesterday, it seemed like a perfect choice. Now I am a little disappointed. Everyone's work is very very good--in addition to De Niro there is a great cast---but the movie can't break into the one dimensionality of Madoff's personality. The script tries to get under the surface of the man, but it can't break through---I don't think that anyone really could. Madoff to me is the ultimate "Hollow Man". He did what he did because...well I guess because he could. But I wonder, as he became closer and closer to being caught, did he fantasize what life in prison would be like. Here is a man of tremendous power, who loves to use it, but who makes a choice to start a Ponzi scheme that, when it falls, will ha have to spend the rest of his life as a cypher--and all the aspects of his life that were so important---the money, the travel, the homes, the power---gone. The movie dances around this conundrum---scenes throughout it simply repeat what we already know. After the first hour, my mind began to wander.
That is a lot for one session---Monday is just beginning---we will see what happens.
Saturday, July 18, 2020
Saturday---all day
....For the last hour and a half have been outside---mostly reading in Riverside Park. Finishing up Wild Palms, yes, believe it or not, only about 15 pages to go. Also stopped off at Barnes and Noble but did not buy anything. Some good news: the Center for Fiction, my favorite bookstore in Brooklyn, perhaps in the whole city has reopened for browsing, as of today. Terrific! Can I make it out there tomorrow? Hard to say, will have to take it moment by moment---everything now depends on stomach and energy, Today, did not feel that I had enough energy to visit my friend Riley at his new barista job in Bed-Stuy, but that was because I had a rough night last night.
Hungry around 5:30, I walked over to one of the pizza stores on Amsterdam Avenue in the 80's and bought a slice of peppironi pizza. One slice, that is all---in the past, I would have digested it easily, then gone on to whatever play or movie I was seeing that night, then, one the event was over, probably need a snack or a sandwich to finish off the night. Not so any more. The one slice of pizza crowded my body, then set off explosions in the stomach, then, for the next 8 or 9 hours, caused me much discomfort by putting incredible pressure on my stomach. Did not need to eat anything until around 8 this morning. What is happening here? Do I have to rethink my whole digestive process?
And, of course, got very little sleep---which accounts for how tired I felt at certain times today. Or is that also because the red blood cell count has fallen? Never really sure. How much of what I feel is part of what the pandemic has demanded of me, and how much is what the doctors have found out?
Can't say at this point, but as the weeks continue, will have to explore it.
So as 5 o'clock approaches, I sit at my screen. Tonight is the first baseball exhibition game of the year--and while I am not thrilled about the way the short and improvised season has been put together---I will listen or stream some of it. Anything, anything for a change---for a distraction.
Will report soon.
Hungry around 5:30, I walked over to one of the pizza stores on Amsterdam Avenue in the 80's and bought a slice of peppironi pizza. One slice, that is all---in the past, I would have digested it easily, then gone on to whatever play or movie I was seeing that night, then, one the event was over, probably need a snack or a sandwich to finish off the night. Not so any more. The one slice of pizza crowded my body, then set off explosions in the stomach, then, for the next 8 or 9 hours, caused me much discomfort by putting incredible pressure on my stomach. Did not need to eat anything until around 8 this morning. What is happening here? Do I have to rethink my whole digestive process?
And, of course, got very little sleep---which accounts for how tired I felt at certain times today. Or is that also because the red blood cell count has fallen? Never really sure. How much of what I feel is part of what the pandemic has demanded of me, and how much is what the doctors have found out?
Can't say at this point, but as the weeks continue, will have to explore it.
So as 5 o'clock approaches, I sit at my screen. Tonight is the first baseball exhibition game of the year--and while I am not thrilled about the way the short and improvised season has been put together---I will listen or stream some of it. Anything, anything for a change---for a distraction.
Will report soon.
Friday, July 17, 2020
Friday morning....
Have just returned from a "journey" to 14th street, to make a deposit in the bank where I have a checking account. Considering how nervous I have been about being too far away from the apartment, this trip was relatively easy. No stomach problems and two very efficient subway rides allowed me to make the trip and back in just about an hour. Pretty good...? Maybe this afternoon I will head north to 146 st. and Broadway and sit and read at Hamiltons, one of the coffee shops that I frequent when I tutor at the 145st. library.
Speaking of reading, I have made a lot of progress in Wild Palms, the novel by Faulkner that I began on Wednesday. Some of the way he writes and describes nature---some of the excitement that he is able to get from the passions and clashes of his characters, seems totally amazing to me. How can one person be so observant? I think I have about 80 pages or close to that to go. And yes, once I finish Wild Palms, I think I will buy another one of his novels, and work my way through that one as well. Maybe Absolom, Absolom. But I would also like to check out a book by a female Shakespeare scholar that takes the reader through about 18 of his plays. What I have read so far, as I have browsed the book at Barnes and Noble, makes me want to follow her through her analysis' of the plays she has chosen. Maybe that will be next.
Had a nice phone conversation with my friend Riley yesterday. He is beginning a job as a barista at a new coffee place in Bed-Stuy--on Halsey and Tompkins. Tomorrow it is supposed to be incredibly hot, not a great day to travel, still, I would like to attempt a visit to see the place and "hang" with him. We will see what happens.......
Speaking of reading, I have made a lot of progress in Wild Palms, the novel by Faulkner that I began on Wednesday. Some of the way he writes and describes nature---some of the excitement that he is able to get from the passions and clashes of his characters, seems totally amazing to me. How can one person be so observant? I think I have about 80 pages or close to that to go. And yes, once I finish Wild Palms, I think I will buy another one of his novels, and work my way through that one as well. Maybe Absolom, Absolom. But I would also like to check out a book by a female Shakespeare scholar that takes the reader through about 18 of his plays. What I have read so far, as I have browsed the book at Barnes and Noble, makes me want to follow her through her analysis' of the plays she has chosen. Maybe that will be next.
Had a nice phone conversation with my friend Riley yesterday. He is beginning a job as a barista at a new coffee place in Bed-Stuy--on Halsey and Tompkins. Tomorrow it is supposed to be incredibly hot, not a great day to travel, still, I would like to attempt a visit to see the place and "hang" with him. We will see what happens.......
Wednesday, July 15, 2020
Beginning the Faulkner...
So...have just read the first 26 pages of Wild Palms---Wow!---very intense. Faulkner really draws you in---this book demands so much concentration---but i think that is what I like about it. Should be a viable challenge for the next few days---maybe a way of getting through the weekend. Strange, the idea of losing myself in a book and sitting in Riverside Park, just a short distance from where I live, is something, pre-Pandemic, I would never have thought of. Will doing this reading by a substitute for standing on the corner of Broadway and Patchen Avenue in Brooklyn, where Bed-Stuy meets Bushwick, and trying to comprehend the history of those streets around there for the last 15 or so years? Not sure, energy is still erratic---health issues still are part of my life. But Wild Palms may excite me so much, it will easily replace my "jaunts" through Brooklyn.
Yesterday, spent a good deal of the day at 1470 Madison Avenue, the large Mount Sinai building where the Hematologist and his nurse practitioner discussed the findings of my blood results---the ones that were discussed with me last week by the Resident at Ryan health, and which hinted at some trouble in my blood,that I had not experienced before. Yes, my red blood cell count has gone down from about 13.5 to 9.5, which means I probably have some iron deficiency. The doctor was very warm and personable---seemed to really listen to me---and gave me some iron pills to take as start. But I can't take them until I have the colonoscopy; that was very important to the doctor. So, three more weeks to prepare---and then it happens. Feel a lot more relaxed about it then before.
My friend Sarah and her husband Alex have committed to taking to the procedure and back---really very lovely of them---I greatly appreciate it. Sarah also said that she would help me get through the day before--that is the really tough one--so I am hoping for the best.
Have listened to the first two segments of the virtual Richard II presented by the Public. Lots to quibble about, but lets just say I love the language---taking it in, thinking about the imagery, so even if there are some overall problems, I can get a lot out of it. Shakespeare is all encompassing. The poetics of Richard II are so strong---so very different from the rest of his history plays---well, we will see how this plays out. Will report soon.
Yesterday, spent a good deal of the day at 1470 Madison Avenue, the large Mount Sinai building where the Hematologist and his nurse practitioner discussed the findings of my blood results---the ones that were discussed with me last week by the Resident at Ryan health, and which hinted at some trouble in my blood,that I had not experienced before. Yes, my red blood cell count has gone down from about 13.5 to 9.5, which means I probably have some iron deficiency. The doctor was very warm and personable---seemed to really listen to me---and gave me some iron pills to take as start. But I can't take them until I have the colonoscopy; that was very important to the doctor. So, three more weeks to prepare---and then it happens. Feel a lot more relaxed about it then before.
My friend Sarah and her husband Alex have committed to taking to the procedure and back---really very lovely of them---I greatly appreciate it. Sarah also said that she would help me get through the day before--that is the really tough one--so I am hoping for the best.
Have listened to the first two segments of the virtual Richard II presented by the Public. Lots to quibble about, but lets just say I love the language---taking it in, thinking about the imagery, so even if there are some overall problems, I can get a lot out of it. Shakespeare is all encompassing. The poetics of Richard II are so strong---so very different from the rest of his history plays---well, we will see how this plays out. Will report soon.
Monday, July 13, 2020
of buying books and reading books and "others"
Saturday afternoon: what to read. Only "new" book is an Agatha Christie mystery. At Barnes and Noble I do my search, weigh my options--easily about ten books I could leave with but which two shall it be? Final Decision: Everyman, by Philip Roth, and Wild Palms, by William Faulkner.
Reasons: I had read Everyman before, probably right after it came out, which would have been about thirteen years ago. I don't think that I have ever bought a book that I have previously read, so why this one? I am very comfortable with Roth's vision, also very familiar with the kind of people he writes about. I wanted something "familiar"---a book that I would feel comfortable re-reading. That accounts for Everyman.
As for Wild Palms, would you believe it but i have never read a novel by Faulkner all the way through. Something about Wild Palms seemed different from some of his other novels--it is also mentioned prominently in Adam Rapp's play, The Sound Inside--which I just read. It was there so why not? A good challenge. Probably next choice I will make to read.
Finished Everyman yesterday. Did not remember it as being so harsh. Roth glories in demonstrating time and time again how the body of an older person (the protagonist and several others) is able to do less and less. Does he pile it on a bit much? Sure---but that harsh tone really grates at the reader. The central character is a retired advertising executive---the novel begins with his funeral, then turns back to the last years of his life---his loneliness, conflicts, etc. It is a life of relative financial ease and conformity except that like most Roth protagonists his hunger for women and their flesh destroys the two serious relationships that should be the anchor of his adult life. Roth always glories in the availability of certain women. Everyman is no exception.
It was the right novel for me to read at the right time. Let's see if I can penetrate the Faulkner.
Reasons: I had read Everyman before, probably right after it came out, which would have been about thirteen years ago. I don't think that I have ever bought a book that I have previously read, so why this one? I am very comfortable with Roth's vision, also very familiar with the kind of people he writes about. I wanted something "familiar"---a book that I would feel comfortable re-reading. That accounts for Everyman.
As for Wild Palms, would you believe it but i have never read a novel by Faulkner all the way through. Something about Wild Palms seemed different from some of his other novels--it is also mentioned prominently in Adam Rapp's play, The Sound Inside--which I just read. It was there so why not? A good challenge. Probably next choice I will make to read.
Finished Everyman yesterday. Did not remember it as being so harsh. Roth glories in demonstrating time and time again how the body of an older person (the protagonist and several others) is able to do less and less. Does he pile it on a bit much? Sure---but that harsh tone really grates at the reader. The central character is a retired advertising executive---the novel begins with his funeral, then turns back to the last years of his life---his loneliness, conflicts, etc. It is a life of relative financial ease and conformity except that like most Roth protagonists his hunger for women and their flesh destroys the two serious relationships that should be the anchor of his adult life. Roth always glories in the availability of certain women. Everyman is no exception.
It was the right novel for me to read at the right time. Let's see if I can penetrate the Faulkner.
Saturday, July 11, 2020
Have just finished reading...Hema and Kaushik,
a novella by Jhumpa Lahiri that ends her collection called Unaccustomed Earth. Not all of it---I had read most of it before, but just the part close to the end of the novella, in which Hema, thirty seven, intellectual, and coming out of a long and unsuccessful affair with a college professor meets Kaushik, another Indian, whom she had a crush on as a child. This is in Rome, where he is working as an independent photographer, and she is doing research. A few months before, Hema has just accepted a marriage proposal from Navin, another Indian male---a scientist. Yet she is uncomfortable with this---though she is second generation Indian--and completely removed intellectually from the world of her parents---in which all marriages were arranged--she understands that this was an "arranged" traditional marriage itself. She and Kaushik meet by accident at a dinner arranged by mutual friends, are immediately attracted to each other and begin a passionate affair---which will last during the length of their time in Rome. Kaushik is starting a new job in China, and towards the last days of their affair, he asks her to reject Navin and come with him. She explains to him that she can't---that this arranged marriage is "settled" and for all of the passion and fulfillment she experiences with Kaushik, she must live the marriage through. "Coward!" he calls her. She starts to cry. That is the end of it.
On the way to China, Kaushik stops in Thailand to take some pictures. He is caught in a monsoon and disappears. Hema returns to Cambridge where she and Navin will build a home. She does not love Navin, but accepts him---she is pregnant and focuses on the unborn child. Of course, she can't keep Kaushik out of her mind, but gradually accepts Navin's meaningful good intentions. Her final statement (and the final statement in the book) is to Kaushik. "It might have been your child, but this was not the case. We had been careful. You had left nothing behind"
So that is the end of the passion. The almost complete annihilation of it. That last sentence, why does it speak to me so much? If I were reading it aloud, who would I have wanted to hear it? And what woman, in what time and place, who knew me, once felt passionate about me, would make that statement to me?
So I am mesmerized by her writing, and her vision. It helps that in this world, time has stopped, no structure to adhere to, isolated from hanging out with friends or acquaintances, the power of the writing---any writing that I read, can be overwhelming. The book becomes an acquaintance. Thinking about the writing, going over it in my head, replaces whatever excitement I would get from the outside world.
There are real things happening too. Scheduled a colonoscopy for August 4. Should help me get
to the bottom of some of my stomach problems. More to come.
On the way to China, Kaushik stops in Thailand to take some pictures. He is caught in a monsoon and disappears. Hema returns to Cambridge where she and Navin will build a home. She does not love Navin, but accepts him---she is pregnant and focuses on the unborn child. Of course, she can't keep Kaushik out of her mind, but gradually accepts Navin's meaningful good intentions. Her final statement (and the final statement in the book) is to Kaushik. "It might have been your child, but this was not the case. We had been careful. You had left nothing behind"
So that is the end of the passion. The almost complete annihilation of it. That last sentence, why does it speak to me so much? If I were reading it aloud, who would I have wanted to hear it? And what woman, in what time and place, who knew me, once felt passionate about me, would make that statement to me?
So I am mesmerized by her writing, and her vision. It helps that in this world, time has stopped, no structure to adhere to, isolated from hanging out with friends or acquaintances, the power of the writing---any writing that I read, can be overwhelming. The book becomes an acquaintance. Thinking about the writing, going over it in my head, replaces whatever excitement I would get from the outside world.
There are real things happening too. Scheduled a colonoscopy for August 4. Should help me get
to the bottom of some of my stomach problems. More to come.
Thursday, July 9, 2020
Lahiri versus Eisenberg (and some other things)
Just one more day. Tomorrow at this time I should know a little more about my condition, and hopefully have a date for the colonoscopy. This is what I am waiting for---why I have simply hung out around the apartment biding my time---letting the time pass---as I wait for tomorrow's appointment.
So with that in mind, once I had finished whatever morning tasks that I had, the plan was to go to nearby Riverside Park and read, read, read. First book to accompany me: Under the 82nd Airborne, the excellent book of short stories written by Deborah Eisenberg. Took my seat a little north of 79th street in the park, but found my thoughts dominated by memories of the play Six Degrees of Separation, by John Guare. Went through the whole play in my head, fantasized about directing a production with high school students, isolated certain moments in which I would make certain choices. When over, reached out to Ms. Eisenberg's stories, but found myself not wanting to enter her milieu---the world of her stories, usually populated by bright, stalled somewhat entitled people. Also her laconic style that leads one into the situations she so carefully writes about, was not where I wanted to go. So I returned to the apartment, and chose a story from Unaccustomed Earth, a great group of eight shorts stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. Ms. Lahiri's style and the world she creates--full of longing and sensitivity seemed much more suited to my reader's needs then Ms. Eisenberg's.
The story that I read has the same title as the collection. Its central character is Rumi, born Indian but raised in Pennsylvania, about 38, who has just moved to Seattle with her three year old child and her wasp husband who works for a hedge fund. They had previously lived in Park Slope Brooklyn (of course!) Adam, the husband, is traveling on business, and Rumi is visited by her father, a widower, who stays with her and Akash (the three year old) for a week. This is enough to let Rumi think through her memories of her parents---Indians who saw marriage as a task more than a romance. A strong sense of obligation permeated those relationships, and Rumi remembers the disparate aspects of her mother and father as they raised two children in America to be American. Lot of memories, lots of evaluations---Seattle, for Rumi is the unaccustomed earth she must navigate, just as her parents had to navigate the America they settled in and raised their children. The writer captures Rumi's isolation perfectly, there is a sense of sadness and gentleness that goes through the long (about 60 pages) short story. It drew me in completely.
Back to the present---tomorrow at 1:30 is the appointment with the doctor who will perform the colonoscopy. When it is over, will have much to report.
So with that in mind, once I had finished whatever morning tasks that I had, the plan was to go to nearby Riverside Park and read, read, read. First book to accompany me: Under the 82nd Airborne, the excellent book of short stories written by Deborah Eisenberg. Took my seat a little north of 79th street in the park, but found my thoughts dominated by memories of the play Six Degrees of Separation, by John Guare. Went through the whole play in my head, fantasized about directing a production with high school students, isolated certain moments in which I would make certain choices. When over, reached out to Ms. Eisenberg's stories, but found myself not wanting to enter her milieu---the world of her stories, usually populated by bright, stalled somewhat entitled people. Also her laconic style that leads one into the situations she so carefully writes about, was not where I wanted to go. So I returned to the apartment, and chose a story from Unaccustomed Earth, a great group of eight shorts stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. Ms. Lahiri's style and the world she creates--full of longing and sensitivity seemed much more suited to my reader's needs then Ms. Eisenberg's.
The story that I read has the same title as the collection. Its central character is Rumi, born Indian but raised in Pennsylvania, about 38, who has just moved to Seattle with her three year old child and her wasp husband who works for a hedge fund. They had previously lived in Park Slope Brooklyn (of course!) Adam, the husband, is traveling on business, and Rumi is visited by her father, a widower, who stays with her and Akash (the three year old) for a week. This is enough to let Rumi think through her memories of her parents---Indians who saw marriage as a task more than a romance. A strong sense of obligation permeated those relationships, and Rumi remembers the disparate aspects of her mother and father as they raised two children in America to be American. Lot of memories, lots of evaluations---Seattle, for Rumi is the unaccustomed earth she must navigate, just as her parents had to navigate the America they settled in and raised their children. The writer captures Rumi's isolation perfectly, there is a sense of sadness and gentleness that goes through the long (about 60 pages) short story. It drew me in completely.
Back to the present---tomorrow at 1:30 is the appointment with the doctor who will perform the colonoscopy. When it is over, will have much to report.
Wednesday, July 8, 2020
writing about "it"
So should the blog tell all of my feelings about my new health stage, or should it focus on other things. Not sure. Let's just say I feel there is a countdown to Friday at 1:30 when i face the Gastroninerologist, Just want to arrive at that place. Now, however, feeling kind of mellow. I have admitted to myself that this is not an easy place to be in. Last night, very restless, could not sleep much---today, this afternoon, finally caught up on some of the sleep I missed.
Have read a lot about the protesters at 1214 Dean Street in Brooklyn where a vicious landlord tried to evict many of his tenants with no warning. The response was strong---in the tweets that I see many people are out there, protesting, protecting the tenants, and are determined to not let the buidling's owner get his way. If this was a "normal" (healthwise) summer, I would probably be out there with them--how I wish that was possible. But not feeling strong enough---this would not be a good idea today.
Finished another story by Deborah Eisenberg---I really admire---no, let's just say I am in awe of the way she creates and molds a short story. About four more to go in her book of them. Also read a little bit of The Sound Inside again---there is something that draws me back to parts of the play, even though I don't feel a need to read the whole things through again.
Close to 7, still waiting for my appetite to ask for supper--will report again soon.
Have read a lot about the protesters at 1214 Dean Street in Brooklyn where a vicious landlord tried to evict many of his tenants with no warning. The response was strong---in the tweets that I see many people are out there, protesting, protecting the tenants, and are determined to not let the buidling's owner get his way. If this was a "normal" (healthwise) summer, I would probably be out there with them--how I wish that was possible. But not feeling strong enough---this would not be a good idea today.
Finished another story by Deborah Eisenberg---I really admire---no, let's just say I am in awe of the way she creates and molds a short story. About four more to go in her book of them. Also read a little bit of The Sound Inside again---there is something that draws me back to parts of the play, even though I don't feel a need to read the whole things through again.
Close to 7, still waiting for my appetite to ask for supper--will report again soon.
Tuesday, July 7, 2020
Let's get to it!
All right, cityboy, must admit it. The doctor whom I saw today gave me some hard facts, and convinced me that this time, I must get a colonoscopy. I am seeing the doctor who performs that procedure on Friday---hopefully we can arrange for the procedure to happen quickly. No more demons knocking at my door---actually I am very anxious now to get to the bottom of all the stomach craziness that I am experiencing.
In spite of the bad news, when I left the clinic, I bought myself an ice coffee around the corner (Columbus between 97th and 96th street) and very easily walked the 21 blocks south and three blocks east my apartment. No problems there. Will discuss with friends---I already called a doctor friend of mine who urged me to get the colonoscopy, but thought that some of the other recommendations that the doctor made were not particularly valid. Well, we will see.
Remember the four reading choices from yesterday? Finally chose to go back to The Mask and the Face. Glad that I did; I read the whole thing and found it more powerful then ever. Started fantasizing readings of it that i would direct---casting it in my head---as I used to do back when I was directing. Will something like that ever materialize? Hard to say, especially now. After Sarah reads it, I am not sure to whom it will go. Whatever---I found myself so stimulated and moved by it---amazing that the first time I read the play I was a Sophamore at Hopkins, and Professor Ross assigned the play---he was a great teacher who had luckily taken the class over from a fraudulent teacher who had died suddenly at the end of the first semester. Yeah, modern drama---that is what the course was called. Also read Mother Courage and (I think) Right You Are if you Think You Are, that puzzling play by Pirandello. Quite an introduction to the world of European dramatic literature, a world that still fascinates me now.
This is where I stand at the moment. Will report soon.
In spite of the bad news, when I left the clinic, I bought myself an ice coffee around the corner (Columbus between 97th and 96th street) and very easily walked the 21 blocks south and three blocks east my apartment. No problems there. Will discuss with friends---I already called a doctor friend of mine who urged me to get the colonoscopy, but thought that some of the other recommendations that the doctor made were not particularly valid. Well, we will see.
Remember the four reading choices from yesterday? Finally chose to go back to The Mask and the Face. Glad that I did; I read the whole thing and found it more powerful then ever. Started fantasizing readings of it that i would direct---casting it in my head---as I used to do back when I was directing. Will something like that ever materialize? Hard to say, especially now. After Sarah reads it, I am not sure to whom it will go. Whatever---I found myself so stimulated and moved by it---amazing that the first time I read the play I was a Sophamore at Hopkins, and Professor Ross assigned the play---he was a great teacher who had luckily taken the class over from a fraudulent teacher who had died suddenly at the end of the first semester. Yeah, modern drama---that is what the course was called. Also read Mother Courage and (I think) Right You Are if you Think You Are, that puzzling play by Pirandello. Quite an introduction to the world of European dramatic literature, a world that still fascinates me now.
This is where I stand at the moment. Will report soon.
Monday, July 6, 2020
Monday afternoon...
Nothing happening. That's right---time seems to have stopped. No tasks today (unless you think taking two bags of garbage out to the garbage can outside your house is a task), and no plans to leave the neighborhood. So there is only one thing to do: read, read, read. What are my choices.
1. Another short story by Deborah Eisenberg, from her short story collection, Under the 82nd Airborne. She is really good, but do I want to read another of her reflective stories right now/
2. For one dollar I have just bought a book about Bobby Knight, a famed University of Indiana basketball coach. This one, called A Season on the Brink, by John Feinstein, well respected sports writer from DC, follows him through the 1985-86 season. Looks like a good page turner; I enjoy reading about basketball, and needed a change from the Wes Moore book, which chronicled the five days after Freddy Gray's funeral. Don't need another book that focuses on social justice right now; Moore's book is incredibly strong. But I have to take a break. Feinstein's book might absorb me in a more relaxed way.
3. When I bought The Sound Inside at Barnes and Noble last week, I also bought an Agatha Christie mystery. This one is called Spider's Web---I know nothing about it except that it should be good escapist material, which is what I need now
4. Return to the play that haunts me: The Mask and the Face---I am giving it to my friend Sarah to read probably tomorrow---I should at least read Act I over again before giving it to her. This is the most complicated of the three acts---I want to be a little more clearer about the way it develops.
So that is it. Which will I do? Not sure--time to leave the apartment and sit on a shady bench in Riverside Park and get some reading done. What about another trip to Brooklyn? Had fun yesterday, for some reason a little bit too self protective today. But that could change later. Will report soon.
1. Another short story by Deborah Eisenberg, from her short story collection, Under the 82nd Airborne. She is really good, but do I want to read another of her reflective stories right now/
2. For one dollar I have just bought a book about Bobby Knight, a famed University of Indiana basketball coach. This one, called A Season on the Brink, by John Feinstein, well respected sports writer from DC, follows him through the 1985-86 season. Looks like a good page turner; I enjoy reading about basketball, and needed a change from the Wes Moore book, which chronicled the five days after Freddy Gray's funeral. Don't need another book that focuses on social justice right now; Moore's book is incredibly strong. But I have to take a break. Feinstein's book might absorb me in a more relaxed way.
3. When I bought The Sound Inside at Barnes and Noble last week, I also bought an Agatha Christie mystery. This one is called Spider's Web---I know nothing about it except that it should be good escapist material, which is what I need now
4. Return to the play that haunts me: The Mask and the Face---I am giving it to my friend Sarah to read probably tomorrow---I should at least read Act I over again before giving it to her. This is the most complicated of the three acts---I want to be a little more clearer about the way it develops.
So that is it. Which will I do? Not sure--time to leave the apartment and sit on a shady bench in Riverside Park and get some reading done. What about another trip to Brooklyn? Had fun yesterday, for some reason a little bit too self protective today. But that could change later. Will report soon.
Sunday, July 5, 2020
Sunday evening---nice news...
Have just returned from trip to Brooklyn, had a very good time, only to read about the many shootings that took place in Brooklyn and Manhattan last night, and the young woman killed when a car plowed into her group in Seattle. Very, very sad. Perhaps good news is not relevant, but here it is anyway.
My friend Riley and I agreed to meet in Brooklyn this afternoon. Riley is a graduate of Friends from the class of 15. Last Sunday I ventured into Brooklyn, but not since then. A little anxious when I left, but the subway ride into Brooklyn on the 3 was very direct (there was at the most, three people in the car for the whole ride) and Riley and I met outside BAM (now closed, unfortunately, even the bathrooms). A few blocks east on Lafayette we found a coffee shop and hung out there for about 45 minutes. Good conversation, mostly going over memories we had of other students from Friends whom we both knew. After that took a short walk around Fort Greene---then Reilly headed home to cook dinner for his parents and brother in Park Slope, and while I thought I might go out to Bushwick and see if Cobra Club was open--maybe hunt down some of my barista friends there. But when Riley left, the sun was beating down on me, so I figured that I should probably return to the upper west side. Which is what I did--got on the 2 at Atlantic Avenue---it moved very fast, and had as my companion a really well written story by Deborah Eisenberg. Part of a book of short stories by this author---I hope to read the rest of them soon.
Yesterday morning I completed Five Days: The Fiery Reckoning of an American City. Really glad that I read it--it really packs a wallop---forces one to consider how to "fix" the glaring inequities that exist in the poor black neighborhoods of Baltimore. Wes Moore (the book's author) lives with his family in Baltimore now---its in his hands to start the process of empowerment.Would like to help anyway that I can--will see how this evolves.
My friend Riley and I agreed to meet in Brooklyn this afternoon. Riley is a graduate of Friends from the class of 15. Last Sunday I ventured into Brooklyn, but not since then. A little anxious when I left, but the subway ride into Brooklyn on the 3 was very direct (there was at the most, three people in the car for the whole ride) and Riley and I met outside BAM (now closed, unfortunately, even the bathrooms). A few blocks east on Lafayette we found a coffee shop and hung out there for about 45 minutes. Good conversation, mostly going over memories we had of other students from Friends whom we both knew. After that took a short walk around Fort Greene---then Reilly headed home to cook dinner for his parents and brother in Park Slope, and while I thought I might go out to Bushwick and see if Cobra Club was open--maybe hunt down some of my barista friends there. But when Riley left, the sun was beating down on me, so I figured that I should probably return to the upper west side. Which is what I did--got on the 2 at Atlantic Avenue---it moved very fast, and had as my companion a really well written story by Deborah Eisenberg. Part of a book of short stories by this author---I hope to read the rest of them soon.
Yesterday morning I completed Five Days: The Fiery Reckoning of an American City. Really glad that I read it--it really packs a wallop---forces one to consider how to "fix" the glaring inequities that exist in the poor black neighborhoods of Baltimore. Wes Moore (the book's author) lives with his family in Baltimore now---its in his hands to start the process of empowerment.Would like to help anyway that I can--will see how this evolves.
Saturday, July 4, 2020
Saturday morning...now what...?
Yesterday no post. Stomach was insane! Gritted right through me. What do I do when that happens. Just wait it out---I am very used to by now, what I call "stomach cycles". After one intense day the pressure on my stomach diminishes and a kind of "normalcy" is established. Then BAM! it happens again. Nothing much I can do at this point---felt pretty tired all day, stayed close to the apartment, read the Wes Moore book a lot. It is, as I have said in earlier posts, devoted to the five days after Freddy Gray's funeral in Baltimore--Moore, the narrator, takes the reader into the world of about six different people either immediately or tangentially involved in the rage that took part in the city after the funeral. Most are black; two, a public defender and John Angelos, an owner of the Baltimore Orioles, are white. Of the black participants, there is a high ranking police officer, a "street guy", a City Council person and a few others. It is all very riveting; perhaps the most frightening aspect of absorbing the book is the understanding that one section of Baltimore---the one that contains the poor black population---has been treated by the police as an occupied country. Unjustified cruelty by the police to anyone "suspected" of any wrong doing is common place. Physical beatings are the norm. I knew some of this before but reading this now leaves me horrified and enraged. But what is one to do? Moore lives in Baltimore now; in an interview he identified the problems in the poor neighborhoods that have been going on for years. Can he, as an important Baltimorian begin to work to solve these problems of inequity? How do you rebuild a system that seems so brutalized and forgotten by those in power? Those are the greater issues posed by the book---I have about five chapters to go.
Stomach better today. Still a lot of time left in the day. I think I will stay around the apartment and wait until Falstaff comes on. The last Verdi opera is today's broadcast. I saw the production a few years ago---did not like it at all, but listening to it, I can just focus on the music--which I know and love. After that---will depend on the energy flow that i am experiencing Will report soon.
Stomach better today. Still a lot of time left in the day. I think I will stay around the apartment and wait until Falstaff comes on. The last Verdi opera is today's broadcast. I saw the production a few years ago---did not like it at all, but listening to it, I can just focus on the music--which I know and love. After that---will depend on the energy flow that i am experiencing Will report soon.
Thursday, July 2, 2020
Yesterday's post, kind of "heavy"
Today's post---much more positive. That's because I have accomplished a lot (at least what must be considered a lot during the pandemic). First, traveled from the upper west side to my,bank , around Union Square to shift some money. Finally, that bank is easy to get into. During the early days of the pandemic, it wasn't. Closed more than opened. Long lines to get in. Rediculous. Subways fairly empty---after I made the deposit turned east to 3rd Avenue and then north on 3rd to 23rd Street and Fifth. Nice walk---very easy on the body. Wanted desperately to get a sweet-needed some sugar-- but waited until I returned to the upper west side---discipline very important when dealing with my stomach.
Next, believe it or not, I finished Prep, and believe it or not, the last hundred pages of the book have some really nice writing in them. So finishing was less of a chore than I thought it would be. Last night I read about six chapters of the book that I bought yesterday at Barnes and Noble: Five Days: The Fiery Reckoning of an American City. About the riots in Baltimore in the days after Freddy Gray's funeral. Really strong and intense. I will be reading it very shortly after I finish this post. Still have to decide if I want to buy one more book at Barnes and Noble tomorrow, to help move me through the weekend. Store may be closed on Saturday (July 4th)--not sure. Could be the essays on Shakespeare that I have browsed a lot when I have been there, or----.
I will decide tomorrow.
Last night and morning---another restless time---again got my coffee from the neighborhood convenience store at around 5:30--then collapsed when I returned from my bank trip and slept for an hour. But right now I am feeling pretty strong. Can I gather this energy and feel good enough at 4 or 5 in the afternoon, to maybe go out to Bushwick or Williamsburg? Maybe, it is definitely something to shoot for---got to make the next few days as interesting as possible.
Next, believe it or not, I finished Prep, and believe it or not, the last hundred pages of the book have some really nice writing in them. So finishing was less of a chore than I thought it would be. Last night I read about six chapters of the book that I bought yesterday at Barnes and Noble: Five Days: The Fiery Reckoning of an American City. About the riots in Baltimore in the days after Freddy Gray's funeral. Really strong and intense. I will be reading it very shortly after I finish this post. Still have to decide if I want to buy one more book at Barnes and Noble tomorrow, to help move me through the weekend. Store may be closed on Saturday (July 4th)--not sure. Could be the essays on Shakespeare that I have browsed a lot when I have been there, or----.
I will decide tomorrow.
Last night and morning---another restless time---again got my coffee from the neighborhood convenience store at around 5:30--then collapsed when I returned from my bank trip and slept for an hour. But right now I am feeling pretty strong. Can I gather this energy and feel good enough at 4 or 5 in the afternoon, to maybe go out to Bushwick or Williamsburg? Maybe, it is definitely something to shoot for---got to make the next few days as interesting as possible.
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
today, wednesday...
Yesterday so proud of myself for steering the post away from complaints and into a likeable and possibly funny tract on getting books to read. Not so funny today. Yes, I did go back to the bookstore and bought Five Days: the Reckoning of an American City, the book that explores the aftermath of the killing of Freddy Gray in Baltimore. But nothing has caught fire for the rest of the day. For some reason, my body has felt fatigued most of the day, so I have not been far from the apartment. Why? Is it because I am awake by 4:30 A.M. and today was getting coffee at 5:30. Is that when my body is strongest? Is it because life is so focused around the apartment anyway, that fatigue just comes with it. How can i go out to Williamsburg or Bushwick in the early evening if by 4 or 5 I just want to read and rest?
Had a strange dream this afternoon. I am three feet off the curb of a street, in front of a bus stop. It is dark. I seem to have dropped a cup of take out coffee in front of me---I see a bus and car approaching and know that I must get out of the way for the bus. But I am having trouble picking up the cup of coffee--it is hot and filled---I hate it when the coffee maker fills the coffee right to the top--I struggle to pick up the coffee, regain my balance and move out, meanwhile I see the bus and the car waiting for me to get out of the way. I think that the bus driver must despise me for being in the way. Feeling humiliated, I begin to pick up the cup when---I wake up! Why such a dark and odious dream?
So there you have it---the weekend approaches with its fourth of July holiday on Saturday. The city will be hot!! I will have the book I have just bought and probably one or two others to keep me company. Travel to another borough? I hope so---but everything is day by day.
Had a strange dream this afternoon. I am three feet off the curb of a street, in front of a bus stop. It is dark. I seem to have dropped a cup of take out coffee in front of me---I see a bus and car approaching and know that I must get out of the way for the bus. But I am having trouble picking up the cup of coffee--it is hot and filled---I hate it when the coffee maker fills the coffee right to the top--I struggle to pick up the coffee, regain my balance and move out, meanwhile I see the bus and the car waiting for me to get out of the way. I think that the bus driver must despise me for being in the way. Feeling humiliated, I begin to pick up the cup when---I wake up! Why such a dark and odious dream?
So there you have it---the weekend approaches with its fourth of July holiday on Saturday. The city will be hot!! I will have the book I have just bought and probably one or two others to keep me company. Travel to another borough? I hope so---but everything is day by day.
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