Sunday morning---"Oh Endless Night!"

 That quote from Tamino, the hero of Mozart's The Magic Flute, on his journey  to find a woman he has fallen in love with, and who at that moment in the opera he is searching for, seems to be blocked.  It is a moment where the music captures the  sensitivity of the Prince, but also his hunger for resolution.  For me, the "endless night" began when I woke up this morning. Another day mostly in the apartment---the next week a continuum of that---trying to find excitement from the classical music I listen to, what I read, the football games I am betting on (three today) and maybe a good conversation or two with a friend. But the "sameness" of all of that just got to me. On top of that my one tutoree is asking me to help her with statistics problems. I can help her with some of them but others are way over my head.   --her teacher, for some bizarre reason insists that she complete this work to pass. Absurd, since these are very advanced questions.

What else? Well, yesterday i listened to most of the Met's Broadcast of The Magic Flute--still find the music and Mozart's setting of the drama through music amazing. Can it really be almost 54 -years ago that I attended the opening night of the Met's then new production---in German, had the Chagall paintings for scenery, and was directed by Gunther Rennert. What I rememeber most about that performance was Herman Prey's singing of Papageno's aria (really a song) called Ein Maidchen Oder Weibchen (probably spelled it wrong)---very simple, but he got an enormous hand afterwards. Early  1967---what a different time for me! Really searching for some artistic and personal meaning in my life. Lived on Irving Place between 18th and 19th---a studio very similar to the one I live in now. Working on an acting scene with Gilbert Price, working each night from 6 to 10 at the 33rd street Post Office sorting mail, spending the weekdays at home, and going to the Met or City opera on weekends. That part of my life finally ended in July of 67 when i began work as a social worker for Riverdale Children's Association and was able to quit the Post Office. I was glad for the change---I wanted to have a social life in the evenings and finally admitted to myself that the lifestyle of being an aspiring actor, something that I had dreamed about for years,  was not going  towork for me. What else...? The beginning of my relationship with my friend Fred, which would last for another 30 years, and reading Malamud's The Fixer--other books too, but the memory of that book, or actually the memory of reading that book in my apartment before going to work, remains with me. No dating---that was one of the reasons that I was happy to get the job at Riverdale,  So I emerged from the "dark" world of the postoffice into the "light" of day at 79th and 5th Avenue---that is where the offices of Riverdale were situated--and moved into the next chapter of my life.

Enough memory! Time to return to the present. Read a little---listen to some football predictions on the radio, and get ready to follow the two games I have bet on that begin at 1:00. Wish me luck!

storm coming...

 so the weather people say in a couple of hours. My window broke about three weeks ago now are being held together by very strong tape. Strong enough? I should make some alternate plans, but I have not. My next door neighbor will let me sleep on his couch in an emergency, but I am not sure that he is even home.  Taking a risk...but let it happen. 

Christmas Eve last year...do you remember? I went to Carnegie Hall to watch Jaime Laredo conduct his amazing youth symphony in an all Mozart program. The Marriage of Figaro Overture, followed by Violin Concerto number 4 (very beautiful) and then after intermission, the Jupiter Symphony, Mozart's last symphony. The violin concertos are very similar to the piano concertos, most of which he wrote later---they have very vigourous and full first movements followed by incredibly warm and sensitve second movements, and then the end. Mozart wrote all of them (there are 5) very early in his career, then never returned to them. Yes, thatwas a different time for all of us.

Christmas day was usually a slow day for me. Somehow I can't remember how I spent last year---but two years ago, Christmas day is very vivid in my mind. First, a movie at the Quad---beginning at 11:00 A.M., a movie about the first Jews to settle in Miami Beach---then off to Brooklyn to Franklin Avenue and Fulton Street, then the bus that leaves Franklin and Fulton and heads south---just a sightseeing trip to pass the time. The bus winds its way through Crown Heights until it reaches Ocean Avenue, where it remains for most of its trip. I get off at Church Avenue, then walk west until I reach the F train station, then F train home---but wait! All that travel and the day is not finished yet. Time for another movie, this time at the movie theater at Lincoln Center (oh how I hope it opens again soon) to watch a movie that is part of a Jacque Tourneur retrospective---he was a very active director in the late forties and early fifties---most of his movies were second features of double features (that is the way movies were shown then) but had an inventiveness and skill that transcended the material.  I don't remember the name of the movie that night---it was made around 1947, and was about American, British and French diplomates putting together the ruins of Berlin. Not great as a movie---the British diplomat was played by Robert Coote---who later created the role of Colonel Pickering in the original My Fair Lady===ironically the Lincoln Center theater revival of that musical was having a performance as I watched the movie. Great irony---at least for me. Finally, the day was done---the Tourneur retrospective lasted about two weeks more, but that was the last movie in the group that I saw. I had seen two earlier---cowboy movies--good guys against bad guys with the good guys always winning---and I had enjoyed them, but did not want to go any further.  So much for that day.

Tomorrow, more time in the apartment internet surfing and (hopefully) reading until 4:30 when the Saints-Viking football game begins. Then following every play, and hoping that the Saints win by more then 7. More of the same Saturday, when there are three football games being played, but hopefully I can get out a bit as well. It is going to be cold (very warm now) but I will need some variety. Let's see what happens, will report soon.

Now it is Saturday afternoon....

 I am in transition. This morning I watched a performance of Beethoven's String Quartet opus 18, number 5. A beautiful third movement--a theme and variations that is incredibly rich and inventive--and this was Beethoven's "young" period. I want to hear more of his chamber music; Lincoln Center's Chamber Music Society is streaming a whole bunch of them. I can be transfixed by that music very easily. Then an hour ago, I heard the first forty minutes of a Met production of Hansel and Gretel by Humperdinck--there is some beautiful music in it, but I had to turn it off. Then I sat---just sat---allowed myself to be "vacant", that is not to absorb any music, or literature or whatever. Sometimes it just gets that way. One simply wants to "stop!" and not take anything in. That was where I was right before I walked over to the computer and began this blog segment.

Most of the late afternoon will be devoted to listening to the Denver-Buffalo football game. Yes, I am betting that Buffalo will be triumphant, continuing its march to the playoffs and first place in its division. Foe me to have my money doubled, they have to win by 6,  The evaluators who write on NFL dot com say that Denver is much improved in the last two weeks, nevertheless, I think the Bills cam beat them by  7 points or more. So I made the bet ($5.00eme). Game begins at 4:30. In the "old days" I could go to Standings, my sports bar in the East Village, have one beer and watch the whole game (and possibly have some good conversation as well), but of course, that can't happen now. Will Standings even reopen when the pandemic is over?  Don't know.

And so we come to the end of this entry. Still reading Jones' The Wars of the Roses; a little blocked but will continue---and have many essays to read in Emma Smith's take on Shakespeare's plays. (Have not read her essays on "the biggies"---that is Hamlet, Macbeth and Lear---saving that for the end?). Other books surround my bed as well---maybe a Faulkner novel to keep me busy for Christmas---well, we will see, should report soon.

all alone

 as the snow closes in.  Has it begun? Yes  it has---I can see it outside my window. That means I am just here for a while. With the computer and books, lots of choices--an all day Beethoven chamber music festival, or some Met old broadcasts or---actually I think I would really like to get back to The Wars of the Roses---Dan Jones' history is clearest of all the ones I have read on the subject. Also I have Emma Smith's Shakespeare book. I have only read one of her critiques---on Much Ado About Nothing. She centers her vision on the male bonding in the play, and how that basically eliminates the women. Reads well, good points. In this book she critiques about twenty of Shakespeare's plays---should check out one or more, soon.

I have just watched the first act of Lohengrin, as it was performed at the Met in 1986. I am amazed at the grandeur and energy of Wagner's music. I have not thought about this opera for a long time. Still, watching it brought back two memories, one from 66 and the other from May of 67. The first was being at the opening night of the Met's new production of then opera in December of 66. It was directed by Wieland Wagner, the composer's grand son, who at that time was artistic director of the Bayreuth festival and was known for his spare, light driven stagings---stripped down so that the contact between the individual characters was pushed forward on the stage. Line readings were really important. The production had a center where all the action took place, surrounded by what looked like stadium seating where the chorus sang from. The chorus never moved. I liked the production---other then placing the chorus the way he did, it was pretty straightforward. Ironically enough, Wieland had died in October of that year---the opera was staged by one of his assistants--it was, to my knowledge, the only production of his that was staged in America. He was only in his late forties when he died--a really sad loss for the world of opera and for someone like me, who was fascinated by  his directing choices.

Late 1966 was not a great time for me. I had left my job with the Department of Welfare, and was trying to figure out my next move. I left because I thought I was ready to audition full time as an actor---but by December I realized that this life style did not work for me. Too many empty days---not enough structure---some part time jobs that were silly or demeaning. It was a great idea---but it just did not work. A few weeks later I became a part time worker at the Post Office--yes, believe it or not, a "great scholar" like myself reduced to sorting mail for a living. But I did not want to be supported by my parents while I looked for acting work (they would have done it---up to a point) so there it was. And it remained so for the rest of the winter and spring. I worked usually from 6 to 10, Monday through Friday--Saturdays I usually saw one or two operas at the Met or City Opera---Sunday morning I stood on line at the Met to get my standing room tickets to whatever opera I wanted to see five weeks from the time. That was how tickets were sold that year; the first at the new house; Standing Room tickets were in great demand, so it was necessary to line up hours before they went on sale at 12 P.M. Sunday. It was quite an experience---the standees who came back week after week were divided into several cliques that never talked to each other. Oh, and there was a roll call at 5A.M., Sunday morning. More on that some other time.

The other time was early May of 67. I was listening to Lohengrin at the Donell Library---very moved by the plight of the heroine of the opera Elsa. In Wagner's creation she is incredibly vulnerable---it is all in the music. I was thinking of J---a senior at Goucher college, who I had become close with my senior year at Hopkins (her freshman). Our relationship should have ended when I left---but it dragged on---or shouldI say I dragged it on. She had a boyfriend but our conversations that year (63-64) were so intense---she seemed so into my talent as a theater artist--well, I could not let go. I had written her a letter asking to visit her at Goucher  one last time---I waited for the answer, It came---a really vicious rebuke---the rage in the letter seemed almost unworldly. Of course, I did the right thing and did not go down. That was the end of our relationship---our paths crossed once as adults---nothing happened. Lohengrin brought back the memory of sitting in the library, thinking of her, linking her to Elsa's sensitivity and waiting.

53 years later (actually 53 years and six months) I am still stunned when I remember the vitriol in that letter--then remember some of the closeness we experienced three years earlier. One tries to put the memories together. Tenderness and vitriol. But since then I have experienced so much, it is fairly easy to put even memories like that in perspective. When this writing is over, I return to my private self--figure out what to read---work on just getting through this snowy night. J, like so many others, simply becomes a figure in a carpet, Who is she now? Does it matter..?  I need to return to my immediate life---finished!

Saturday afternoon....right after listenting to Fidelio...

 a broadcast from 2017 (Oh happy time!); a Saturday matinee--I actually attended the performance before that, a few days earlier. A terrific performance---what an opera! There is so much heart and passion in it, that I almost feel we are lucky that Beethoven never wrote another opera. Fidelio is enough to consider and think about.

Fidelio---memories. The first performance of Fidelio that I attended was in January of 66; the last year at the old house. I sat in the first row of the side of the Family Circle, and I had a date: Irene, a scene partner from my acting class. It was a nice afternoon for us---later we went back to my apartment to rehearse and-----but that was only part of it. The other part was discovering the opera. Experiencing for the first time the power of the first scene of the second act. Then to top off the triumph of Leanore and Florestan as they leave the prison cell, where she has just saved him, the curtain fell and the orchestra played the Leonore Overture Number 3---an affirmation of the triumph that the audience has just been witness to. The Overture is no longer played in productions---it ended at the Met when Rudolph Bing retired---playing the Overture was obviously part of his vision. But someone seeing Fidelio for the first time---well it was breathtaking! Birgit Nillsson was Leonore, James King the Florestan, and Karl Bohm, (I think) conducted. I have seen the opera at least 4 or 5 times since--but thiat afternoon in 66--it was like watching a cannon shot!

Well, Florestan is freed from prison, what about me? Am I "in prison", because of my situation. Today I felt really strong in the morning---and I did not sleep that much last night. But there is only one place in the neighborhood where one can go in, sit and read, and have coffee, and even that place, the nearby hotel, will be eliminated on Monday. Three really interesting books to read that I can't get enough of, still, I would love to be able to read them somewhere outside my apartment. I have friends with no illnesses who remain locked in their apartments---they won't take the risk---I wonder if my illness had never happened, would I be going out to Brooklyn to hang out on the open streets there? Is it possible that i could risk doing it now? I don't feel like risking anything with the bag. I suppose I just have to follow my instinct on a day by day basis.

Tonight the Met is Streaming the Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny, the Brecht-Weill opera that they presented in the late 70's I love that music---will try to hear it---and, at the same time, wqxr is presenting probably an all Beethoven concert, as they celebrate his 250th birthday. So some confict, yet the Beethoven will continue for the next few days. Finally a kind of immersion---I think that is great! Will report soon...

Wednesday early evening,,,,,

a nice sense of relaxation has come over me. It has been an interesting day. The highlight: picking up three of the books I requested that the library hold for me. There are seven books that are directly to the right of my bed, but somehow, I could not motivate myself to read any of them. So they sat there. Now these three books; already I have dove into them. Yes, I am excited that they are in my presence! Emma Smith's essays on about twenty of Shakespeare's plays;  The Purpose of Power, a dialogue with black writer Alicia Garza, and last but not least, The Wars of the Roses, by English historian, Dan Jones. Yes, I am familiar with those "wars", but reading about the twists and turns of the English crown from 1420 to 1485, always excites me. So there it is. I have already read two of Ms. Smith's essays: one on Richard II, and one on The Comedy of Errors. She makes some good points about the two plays---interesting that there are so many ways of looking at each individual Shakespeare play.  This afternoon I felt a little down after reading a little of each book---must I always be passive, instead of active, I thought, but this evening I am simply happy that they have and will add a little to my life---a life that---because of the pandemic and my illness---needs some adding to.

I had come to the library early---I thought they opened at 11, but today they opened at 12, so with a half hour to kill, I walked east past the Lincoln Center complex ( a ghost town now) and visited Target and Best Buy, a few blocks away. I had never been to a Target before---I did not realize how many things they had to sell---maybe I will return there for some inexpensive clothing. I visited Best Buy in search of an inexpensive television. Do I really want or need one? Especially with all the reading I have given myself. Still, if the city is going to shut down even more--which might mean no coffee at an indoor hotel lobby, which has become something that I enjoy---a tv might be good---at least I can watch some pro football and basketball on the free tv channels over the holiday. It's tempting and fairly reasonable for my careful budget. Well, we will take it day by day.

My brother  David, passed away last Friday--I have lots of thoughts and memories about him over the years. As time goes on, I will share them---right now let me just say that I am really happy that his memorial on facebook has received so many strong statements about just how wonderful a person and performer (let's not forget that) he was. We had great times together during my college and his high school years---going to plays and baseball games, waiting for any chorus or featured actor who had been in the original cast of West Side Story to leave the stage door of whatever musical he or she was in now, so we could talk to them. Exciting and meaningful times--I will always remember them. More as we go on---I will report soon.

Made my first move on the

 NYPL's  Grab and Go web site. It wasn't very difficult. Let's see how it plays out---maybe it will turn out more productive for me then I first T thought. And it should not be hard walking down to the library on 65th and Amsterdam, where hopefully, they will send the books. This happens at a time when financially I am a little stronger, because my state unemployment benefits for August finally kicked in. So I can buy a "greater than $1.00 book at the used book store, or, actually a fresh book at Barnes and Noble or Strand, a few blocks away. Still, getting the two books I ordered from the library is intriguing.  I wonder how long it will take until Iam notified that I can pick up one or both books.

The two books that I reserved actually have a lot in common--they both cover English history from about 1430 to 1620. The first is about a part of English history that I have read about before. It is called The Wars of the Roses---and it details the York-Lancaster feud  dominated English history between around 1420 until 1485, when Henry Tudor became king and unified the country. I have read at least one other non-fiction book about it, plus, the conflict was covered by Shakespeare in one his earliest trilogies---the Henry VI plays. These three plays, and their one play sequel---Richard III, have always fascinated me. I would love to read them now, but I actually feel that if I did, my mind would explode with possible productions in my head. Of course such productions, even on the most rudimentary level, are impossible now, but should the world of the theater return to its "pre pandemic normal", I still would be very conflicted about doing it. First of all, I "don't do theater anymore", that is, I only exist in the world of downtown and other theater as an observer. Would I be able to change that? And where would I do it?  Any open space would do---as far as getting actors, if the pre pandemic actor population still exists, it would not be difficult to find about twenty young actors who would want to take part in this. Something to think about, if nothing else. 

Oh yes, the second book on my reserve list is by a Shakespeare scbolar named Emma Smith, and in it she examines what must be about twenty of his plays. I am always interested in what Shakespeare scholars have to say about his various plays, known and not so well known---my favorite compilation of critiques of all the plays was written by a scholar named Tony Tanner---a really well thought out and sharp look at each of the 37 plays Shakespeare wrote. I would hope and expect Ms Smith's critiques to be just as interesting. Will they? We will see when the book arrives.

So my day continues, without much direction. I read yesterday on the web site of wqxr that for five days the station is immersing itself in the music of Beethoven, in honor of the 250th anniversary of his birth. Hopefully the programs will not shy away from the depth and profundity of much of his music, especially his chamber music work. I am still not sure how much I want to commit to following the programs, but it will be interesting to see what choices the station make. If they are strong ones, it should be a chance to hear some really profound music.

Where do we go from here.....

 Tuesday afternoon. Not much happening.  Completed all my tasks in the morning. Paying the month's rent; changing the ostomy bag---finished all that early, Then what? The week spreads out in front of me. Very few tasks---next doctor's appointment on Monday. It's all open. But in this environment what does that mean? Oh, how I would give anything to go to a public library and spend twenty or thirty minutes browsing or figuring out what book I wanted to borrow. But that offwon't happen any time soon. Still, there are six books sitting adjacent to my bed that interest me. But I have read none of them. Why? For some reason it is getting harder and harder to read in the apartment. I spend much more time at this computer.  The place 

where I can read, and read easily is in the coffee shop-lobby of the hotel on 77th and Broadway. But today they kept their window open and it was cold. Are there any other reading spaces that I shoud know about? Barnes and Noble has a few tables open in their nearby bookstore, but I find reading in that little coffee shop confining and depressing. So as of now---the hotel is the only one.

This afternoon---bookstore browsing. There are 4 bookstores within walking distance of my apartment, thank goodness, and even if I refuse to buy any book that excites me (staying on a tight budget) I can imagine what must be in those pages. Then I ask myself this question: "Can't I afford just one book that interests me and spend  between $13.00 and 30.00?"  The answer is always "no" Thank heaven for the used bookstore between 81st and 80st on Broadway. I have bought several books there for $1.00 that have really worked for me. This is a store that I avoided scrupulously when the library a block and a half was opened, but in a way, of course, this has become my library. "Grab and Go" does not work for me now, so every day I check out the used books selling for one dollar in the front of the store---and sometimes I find some very interesting stuff.

One book that sits innocently on the one dollar rack is Fear of Flying by Erica Jong. This was one of the hottest books of the early seventies---I can't believe that it has sat on the one dollar shelf for so long.  The  adventures of the novel's heroine, one Isadorra Wing, sum up the changes in the way women viewed and  lived sex that had taken place in the years leading up to the time of the novel. Married to a psychotherapist, but unhappily, Isadorra has several affairs during a convention, and lets the reader know about her deepest fantasies. It is actually a very well written novel---very sharp and clever---it was very big and well thought of 46 years ago. Yet there it lies in the $1.00 bin, untouched. Why? Perhaps I will buy it and give it as a present to my friend Sarah, who has been so helpful to me during the pandemic and illness. I think she would find this look into the past very interesting.

That's all for now, my search for meaning in this time continues. Will report soon.

Apartment cleaned...now what...?

Saturday late morning: a strange ennui has taken over my personality. Everything is solved, in place, next chemo session is Monday---tomorrow, follow football, but in spite of all that---can' t quite get excited about anything. I can read with pleasure and concentratrion---if I am outside the apartment. Luckily, one of the nearby hotels has indoor space which is usually pretty empty---this is where I have read Summer of 49 by David Halberstam, while sipping coffee.. Everything works, and my appreciation for baseball and for exciting pennant races---the book tells of a Yankee-Red Sox pennant race that went down to the last day---is fulfilled. Then I return to the apartment---yes, it is cleaned, and cleaned very well,-- and look at the six or so books spread out on my bed---all of which I have chosen myself---and don't want to commit my imagination to any of them.

Is it time for me to attempt to travel? How I would love to go to Brooklyn---to Williamsburg, (with Berry Street closed to traffic)  or to Cobra Club in Bushwick--or to see if the Center for Fiction finally is letting people read and have coffee (I suspect not) or further south--to Church Avenue and beyond---Cortelyou Road in Ditmas Park. But do i have the stamina to do it, under my current physical conditions? Everything starts for me so early---usually up around 5:30---that by lunch time or middle of the day, the body is tired. Should I try anyway? These streets near my apartment have become so familiar to me---even a trip to Columbus Avenue seems exotic. I stand on those streets and think of how great it would be to be in another part of the city---even in the high 140's near the library where I tutored. But then it all stops. Right now my body feels pretty 'non-risk" for want of a better description. The large Barnes and Noble bookstore some six blocks away, or the new Strand, on Columbus, may be the best I can do. We will see.

Yesterday evening, saw the first 30 minutes of The Best Years of Our Lives, a movie made in the late forties, about returning World War II vets. Very well put together; I should return to it soon, at some point. Tonight the scheduled Philharmonic broadcast has a Mozart Violin Concerto (I love those) and Brahms Symphony No 1---pure classics, but possibly just what I need. Will I commit...?

--

TThanksgiving morning on the upper west side...

 the atmosphere dank and drizzly---as if the weather knew that the live parade would be canceled. Streets not empty by any means, but lacking the energy, the sometimes overwhelming energy that one gets when the parade is just four blocks east. 

Yesterday evening, a fitful sleep, probably the best sleep I have had in days. Nothing really on the mind, that's all. The plan for today---follow the two football games that I have made (small) bets on and then see what happens. More and more coming to terms with the fact that i won't be going out to Brooklyn today. I am pretty tired anyway--so under these given medical circumstances, it might be an impossibility anyway. Tomorrow is a "big" day for me. First, early in the morning the women who cleans my apartment is coming---of course that means that I have to do my own "cleaning" first--put everything in order and clean up the mess that sits on the side of the bed that I don't sleep on. I almost feel that I have to do as much work as she does. But she really makes the place look clean and warm, for as long as I can keep it that way.. Sometimes I come back from my time outside the house, enter the apartment, and almost feel like I have come to the wrong apartment; this one is clean and livable---a really nice vibe. Was thisms really the one I left?  Tomorrow afternoon, I am scheduled to "hang out" with a friend of my sister in law Kathy. I have met him once; he seems like a good conversationalist---we are both musical theater enthusiasts, so hopefully there will be much to talk about---good conversation that is not political or about the pandemic---something really needed at this point. 

That is all for now---will report soon.

wednesday evevning, continued....

 On those blocks the luxury high rises sit next to normal apartment buildings. Some look like they were built in the fifties, after the "el" came down, but next to them are tenements--remnants of the time the streets east of third avenue were considered a slum---a place for the working poor. (that wonderful opera, Street Scene by Weill, Hughes and Elmer Rice takes place on such a block), Those three and four story building seem like artifacts---little objects waiting to be destroyed so that more luxury housing can be built. But will it...?

It was a meaningful walk and my session with the nurse was a fruitful and happy one' nothing like I had imagined, I left, crossed the park by bus, and in the afternoon went to Best Buy and bought the charger taht would keep my computer alive for Thanksgiving.

Friday morning, the woman who cleans my apartment is coming---between now and then...what? Totally empty time---I should be happy that all my anxiety problems have disappeared--no anticipated worries and yet.....feel kind of empty.

Tomorrow---stay at home. For the last 30 (yes, thirty) years have celebrated Thanksgiving with my cousin Kayla, her husband Stan and family in Brooklyn.  With one exception, this will be the first thanksgiving when i will not be there. Strange---such a part of my life---almost feel that I will get on the 2 train and go to their apartment in Prospect Heights anyway, just out of  habit and inability to believe the party is not happening. Well, we will see--have to prepare for the apartment cleaning--that takes some work in itself. How will it all turn out---will report soon.

wednesday evening...here I am

have just completed two hectic days filled with anxiety and some up beat hope. 
The hope: my oncologist looked at my blood samples and told me that the growth had gotten smaller---a very good sign; also that my red blood cell count, which had been low since the summer, had gone up to a much healthier number. When I left the doctor's office on Monday, felt very lucky and that continued through the evening and early the next day.

The anxiety: after changing my ostomy bag, I noticed that the stoma, which it all revolves around, had a sort of bulbous extension at its bottom. I was stunned--no one training me or treating me had ever mentioned the possibility of an extension. What could it be? I called the office of the surgeon who is supervising my care, and explained it to then. I wanted a professional person to look at it---she  did not want me to come to the office---insisted I send her a picture through e mail. Of course, my flip phone does not do that---luckily I found a friend who could come over with her smart phone, take my stoma's picture and send it to the nurse. But if no one had been available.....The  nurse called me later and told me that the extension was not something to worry about---since I had an appointment with the nurse for Wednesday  morning (today) she insisted that i wait. This left me agitated---for some reason I still wanted someone to see it. So the rest of the day was harsh. 

Lots of other problems last evening---the computer's charger broke and when I woke up at 3 there was not water. Water returned soon, but.....got very little sleep after that, and finally it was time to get the Accesaride to the medical office across town. 

Got there very early so I decided to walk east of Lexington Avenue to "sightsee". An interesting walk east on 77th and then back on 75th. What did I see?

Sunday afternoon---waiting for the,,,

 games to begin. Since I have joined the betting web site---my Sunday afternoon ritual begins at 1:00 and continues to aboout 7. It is all about following the nfl games that I have bet on--in today's case, three, one beginning at 1:00 and the other two at 4:05. At 1:00. the Patriots must win by 3 points or over, for me to win my bet. In the second round of games, the Dolphins must win by 4, and the Chargers by 10 for me to cash. I am a pretty conservative better---I am trying to stay in "the game" for the long haul----this gives me a focus for Sunday afternoons---important for me. Well, my first game begins in about twenty minutes---we will see what happens.ms

Yesterday watched most of Act I of Dialogue of the Carmelites, an opera by Poulenc---a really strong and individual work at the Met Opera streams. The music is troubling, abrasive, changeable---the central character is a young noblewoman in a France that is going through its cut throat aftermath of its revolution. She joins the Carmelites--the first act is about her adjustment to the convent; also the harrowing death of the Mother Superior (brilliantly sung and acted by                      ) Yannick, the new music director of the Met conducted--I had heard the second act on the radio last spring---all the nuns are destoyed by the blood thirst of the revolution. The opera reminds me of Janacek's From the House of the Dead, another work of tremendous individuality, that the Met did a few years ago. Hard to watch the audiece experiences the depersonalization of the prisoners through the music---it does not have an inch of warmth. The two operas are a good challenge to an "opera lover" because they are so separate from the standard repertory. I will try to experience them again at some point.

The rest is the same--continuing reading---I splurged and bought the most recent copy of The New Yorker on Friday, hoping for some strong insight into the election results, but so far i have only read half of the article that discussed it. The magazine and about five other books lie on the other side of my bed---somehow it is hard to want to read in the apartment---much easier in a coffee shop (there is one open at a nearby hotel) or even on a bench in Riverside Park, when the weather is fairly mild. Speaking of which, yesterday I was stunned as I walked north on Amsterdam Avenue at the number of people doing outdoor dining in the ten or eleven restaurants on that avenue between 76th and 83rd street. Just about every restaurant table was filled---lots of young  couples at the tables, and simply walking in the area. I had no idea how popular these restaurants were. Of course, yesterday was an "exemplary" (warm) day so I suppose brunch at most of these places was an easy choice. Nevertheless these places were completely packed--I guess that is the way it is now.

That's it---on to the football games, will report soon.

Wednesday afternoon

Spending most of the day indoors. Pretty cold out there--can I stop monotony from stepping in?

What's new? Made my Medicare choice, yesterday---that was on my mind a lot---switching to a new policy under the same group. Finished the novel, Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine, by Ann Hood. A nice piece of writing-kept me interested all the way through. Not that  individual, stylistically, but not "pulpy" either. Looking back on it, I can see flaws and the character changes that the three women, who are the main characters in the novel,  go through, from their freshman college days (1967) to early middle age (1985) seem a little limited. Yet I was with them and their "journeys" (I know that word sounds kind of trite) all the way through the novel. Some part of me is still very interested in the world of "the sixties" and its aftermath. I think the writer could have explored that a little more thoroughly, nevertheless, I could feel her strength. 

What next? I have a bundle of short stories by my bed side, Louis Auchincloss and Kathleen Collins (the black writer whose movie, Losing Ground, I admire so much), but I have not felt terribly motivated to start any of them. Also, Summer of 49, David Halberstam's retelling of an amazing American League pennant race between the Boston Red Sox and the Yankees---somehow I feel more comfortable reading that outside the apartment (why? can't say), but once I do start reading, I can get very drawn in. The baseba;; season of 1949 was only two years away from the first Baseball season that I followed every day. Many of the players on both teams are familiar to me---their names and identities are part of the first line ups that I looked at.  Finally sitting on my bed is Marjorie Morningstar, the novel by Herman Wouk about a young Jewish girl from the Bronx, who falls in love with a great director-poseur and folows him around the world. I read most of the novel during my first stay in the hospital, somehow I simply have stopped about fifty pages from the end. Pick it up again and finish it? Possibly. 

Yesterday, for some reason, I felt a strong desire to read a play by George Bernard Shaw. Unfortunately I have no plays by him in my "library" and with the real libraries not really available to me,  I suppose it just has to wait. Do not want to buy a copy of say, Major Barbara, either at the second hand store near me or at one of the normal bookstores that I can walk to. An actor friend of mine texted me yesterday, offering me support during this period; I asked him to mail me a copy of a Shaw play that he might have (does not matter which)  and he promised to do so, if he could find one. So perhaps I will be reading one of his plays soon. Something about getting involved in his style and ideas is intriguing to me at this moment. 

So the day contiunes. Will make some phone calls tonight to friends, and I am meeting another friend for coffee tomorrow. Will report soon.

Finding comfort in reading....

 A dark day in the city---very little sunlight---perhaps the perfect day to remain inside----also I am fatigued today---wonder why..? The chemo---or else some residue from Wednesday evening---early Thursday morning when I got very little sleep. Yet yesterday afternoon and evening---with the conflict from the night before---taken care of, I slept like a baby. So what does this mean. Limbs and bones all seem tired. Still I am fighting sleep---lay in bed a little whlie ago---trying to "put things together"---luckily a got a call from Natalie, my live wire niece who lives in California. That kept me going for a while, Now here I am at the computer.

Back to reading---I have started and am now halfway through a novel called Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine. It was written in the late eighties, by a woman named Ann Hood. Three thirty something women and their families, all living in New England. Now comes the switch--the novel then tel  ls of them around 17 years earlier---that will be all or at least most of the rest of the novel. So far very interesting, believeable characters, nice sense of somewhat well off New England place. Looking forward to continuing it. Also would like to return to David Halberstam's baseball memoir, Summer of 49, about the very close pennant race between the Yankees and the Red Sox. Joe Dimmaggio is an important figure in this, so is his younger brother and expert center fielder Dom. Interesting that Dom remained in and around Boston after his playing days, raised  family, made money---seemed to live a very centered life--unlike Joe who I think was somewhat unmoored after his baseball days---seemed to wander around a great deal--of course, he had a much greater burden---the burden of fame---to carry. 

Looking forward to the weekend days---still will remain mostly in and around the apartment---hope for some more energy---on Sunday will make my online football bets---one game at 1:00 and two in the 4:00 group. Will follow them closely, so that should keep me busy. What else...? Not sure now, should get back to my reading, will report soon.

A Dark day...

as you can see if you look outside in NY, it is about 4:30. But for me, the darkness began earlier---after getting up and going out for coffee and a muffin---returned to sleep. Woke up feeling weak---body with less energy then usual. Was it the chemo? Slowly I have worked my way back, to a greater sense of energy, but this was strange, and it also arrived with a strong feeling of hunger. Even after having my "usual" morning meal---three slices of American cheese on a plain bagel, it did not take long for me to be overwhelmed by a feeling of hunger. Ran out and got a roast beef sandwich--that did it for a while, but still I needed a desert. Strange--some days my appetite is slow, others, especialy since the operation, the appetite just keeps going and going. For the afternoon, things are a bit more under control, after all, here I am, at the computer, writing away, that takes some energy---but I am still a little confused by the lack of energy this morning. 

Turned off--with so many options on the computer to watch, the idea of sitting here and watching a movie or something else puts me off. As I was walking to the grocery store, earlier, I longed to be able to actually go to a movie---not just for the movie itself, but for a chance to be in a different environment, to look at other people, to consider, why, in terms of age, sex, etc, they are at this movie. To get the whole picture. That what is lacking here. Yet so many choices exist----operas, complete baseball games from the past---interviews, documentaries of interest, etrc. Can I find one that will carry me through the evening. "Oh, endless night! cries Tamino in The Magic Flute---is that what I face...?

Have to get on with it. Will call my niece in California, the amazing Natalie. She is a live wire, talking to her will link up my energy with hers. A nice idea---what about the five books that are lying on my bed, all of which are of interest, but which I have not checked out yet. You see, cityboy, lots of choices, really, let's see what happens.

A week without writing.....why?

 Can't answer that question----this passage that i am moving through I guess does not stimulate me to write. What can I write anyway? It is either what is happening to me with the "disease" and its follow up or some long ago memories. Maybe just neither seems fitting at the time. But the Ostomy bags seem to be driving me crazy---I lose a lot of sleep working on them. Right now "itchy"---it is around six and I have just returned from the grocery store four blocks away where I got my American cheese sandwich---which, I must say, was incredibly fresh today

Yesterday, bought Summer of 49 by David Halberstam from the used bookstore that is a few blocks away,  A baseball memory book about that summer and the Yankee-Red Sox rivalry that dominated the American league at the time. My baseball infatuation began in 1951, but there are plenty of names of players on those two teams that are familiar to me, since they played into the fifties. There is something meaningful to me about going back in time---thinking about what the world of the two cities was like at that juncture. Similarly, Sherwin Nuland's memory book--a portrait of his relationship with his father and the home environment that he grew up in---allowed me to recreate in my mind the mostly Jewish  Bronx of the fifties---with its stickball games and neighborhood stores and a sense of non chaotic regularity about our existence. And sometimes I still haunt the google maps and look at some of the apartment buildings in those old Bronx Jewish neighborhood--I feel very moved---I want to go back there, but of course there truly is no "there" there---these are now working class black and Hispanic neighborhoods--with a very different set of standards and mores of their own. 

No real plans for today, continue reading---get my laundry taken care of---hope that the bag behaves itself. It is going to be a very pleasant and very warm for November day---tempting to spend a lot of time outside---but where...?  Tired, will also have to make up sleep that I lost a few hours ago. Trial by Jury, a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta will be on the radio later---should try to catch it---well, let's see how it all works out.......

Halloween---surreal...

 Going out at around 6 to get some food, I pass some teen-agers dressed in Halloween outfits. A surreal picture---is there actually a Halloween during this pandemic? The juxtaposition of the celebration and the demands of the pandemic seems strange. But there it is.

Interesting day today: began about 4 A. M. when I went to my grocery store, four blocks south, and ordered three slices of American cheese on a plain bagel. (I never order more then three slices---don't want to get stuffed). Why up so early? I had ordered an Accessoride car to take me to my voting place at 102nd and Amsterdam at 7:30. Thought that the bagel and cheese would keep me full until that, and that I would remain in my apartment until the ride came, but to my surprise, around 5, I felt an incredible need for coffee and something sweet. Took off again, this time to the 24 hour cart on 78th and Broadway and asked for some coffee and a donut. The coffee was not ready; the gentleman in the cart said it would be in a half hour,  so I simply bought the donut. That felt good, but about a half hour later the coffee urge returned, so I now made my third trip out---returning to the cart where the coffee was indeed ready. Finally sated, I awaited my ride to the school where the early voting was scheduled.

Arrived an found an enormous line---not moving. The venue was scheduled to open at 7, but I have a feeling that by the time I got there, around 7:40, it was still unprepared. Anyway, the line was endless---stacked around two blocks--and I knew I could not stay. I did not even bother to see if there was a special senior citizen line--it did not matter, I just got away from there. Took an 11 bus back to the apartment---bought some more food---yes, in spite of all the previous intakes, I was hungry again--and returned home. I did not order a ride for return---somehow I don't mind being taken somewhere, but once there, I like to make my own decision, create my own pace for returning. The "price" for this independence this morning was a freezing walk south on Columbus Avenue; it does not matter: somehow I feel my autonomy is worth it. 

I will try to vote early Tuesday morning at my regular voting place, two blocks away from my apartment. Will go early---last presidential election I was third on line---got there at 5:30---I will try to repeat that feat, but if what I have seen is any indication, I might hacantve a lot of company.

Rest of the day in the apartment--listened to most of Norma, the opera by Bellini, found the first act of a production of Les Mis, and watched that, and finally am waiting for an all Mozart concert by the Philharmonic at 8. It contains one my most favorite of Mozart's piano concertos, number 22---can't wait to hear it again. The Mozart piano concertos are very special to me---they really stand out in his work. At any rate that is the plan--tomorrow I have four bets going on NFL teams---we will see how that turns out.

thoughts on a fall afternoon.....

 about 2:30-yy-have finished all my tasks (laundry, banking, book searching) and am back at the apartment---aside for food for supper will not go out again today. Time becomes motionless, undefined, nothing to do but read and use the computer. Of course, there are some things that I am avoiding. I should find out what kind of co pay the radiation treatments that I expect to receive when the chemo is finished will cost. I should be considering the virtues and non virtues of remaining with my current Medicare supplementary plan. Are their less expensive co pays for the treatment that I am receiving, or do all the supplementary plans keep the prices similar? It would behoove me to find the answers to this and other pertinent questions, as I am seeing a lot of doctors between now and the end of the treatment. But I slack it off 

Tomorrow it is supposed to rain all day---will really be stuck in the apartment---I suppose I can find out some of the answers to these questions tomorrow or Friday. Today, then it is just between surfing the computer and the books---one, the John Grisham mystery-novel that I interrupted so that I could immerse myself in Sherwin Nuland's autobiography---and secondly, a book of short stories by a writer whom I really admire---Kathleen Collins. I found the book on the one dollar shelf in front of the used book store which I wrote about in yesterday's entrees. Ms. Collins, who died in the late eighties, was the director--writer of the movie, Losing Ground--one of my favorites. She is considered one of the finest afro-American writers of her generation, even if her output was small. Looking forward to getting into those stories. What else...? Well, no sports tonight, for the first time in a long time. Where does that leave me..? Listening to Bob Sherman and his young artists---going on youtube for some old baseball films...? I suppose anything is possible. Well, let's see what happens, I will report soon.

Early Tuesday Evening...a

around 7, when I think about it I have accomplished a lot today---good session with the health care nurse who helps me replace the ostomy bag; a good conversation with my brother David where we went back in time and talked about many incidents and memories of the past. Very meaningful. David soldiers on in the face of very difficult physical odds. He should really be admired for that. Luckily he has his wife, his daughter and her husband and his friends. A very supportive group. Still, he has to cope with a lot. 

Other stuff: paid a credit card monthly fee; got very inexpensive toothpaste---browsed the Shakespeare and Company bookstore for a while; I don't dare to buy any book now, as I am on an austerity budget, or at least trying to adhere to one. Thank heaven for the used book store on Broadway between 80th and 81st street. It has been very helpful. I scan their one dollar shelf as often as possible. On Saturday, came up with an exceptional auto biography called Lost in America, by Sherwin Nuland. It came out in 2003--it is really a study of the author's relationship with his father and with the environment that he lived in until his early twenties. This environment was dominated by family members who spoke mostly yiddish, who were intimidated by much of New York city life, and who could barely survive economically. In the course of his growing up, the author works hard to separate himself from his hermetically sealed environment, but of course, since it is his family, he must return and face its reality from time to time, even into his twenties. Very good picture of a certain kind of Jewish experience for a young man growing up in the late thirties and early 40's. A family still trying to live by rules created in the home towns in Europe that they had left to come to America. Holding on to them with a vengeance. Nevertheless, the author becomes a successful doctor---had to deal with one year of a frightening break down, recovers and lives to be a successful surgeon and finally write this excellent book.  More of this some other time---the people the author writes about were figures (somewhat peripheral  but nevertheless present) from my childhood.  Their vision, their cadences, their world outlook still seems very familiar to me, even as I myself, like the author, have managed to exist in a totally different zone.

the rest of the night---not sure---will probably go back to the John Grisham novel---a very efficient page turner---maybe listen to the world series a bit, and then....time is always free, as we move towards November.

of "bricks and windows, windows and bricks"

 Have just watched a little bit of the 1999 revival of Death of a Salesman, the one that began at the Goodman Theater in Chicago and moved to Broadway a year later. Brian Dennehy played Willie, and one of the reasons that I did not rush to see it was that I had trouble accepting him as Willie--too large, not vulnerable enough in my opinion. While I won't say the streaming actually bears this out, I still would like to see a smaller, hungrier actor in the role. Willie is constanI tly searching for recognition, somehow, I don't see someone who looks like Dennehy having that problem. Still, a lot of people I know or heard speak of the revival felt it was very powerful.

   First really got into the play in my junior year at Hopkins when we did it. I tried out for Willie, gave what I thought was a very good audition, but was cast as Charlie instead. I was also allowed to assistant direct; that turned out to be fruitful. it was the first time I worked with actors---a good experience. Playing "uncle" Charlie, such a passive type was a drag, but in the end, not casting me as Willie was of major importance. After Hopkins, in my 20's, while I was living in NY and "finding myself", there was a double edged sword to my existence, On one hand, I was felt disappointed: where had the energy and force and inventiveness of my senior year at Hopkins gone to? Here I was doing social work, outside of the artistic world I felt that I belonged in and could compete in. On the other hand I was in my twenties, being all things that twenty somethings are---socially finding out about myself, etc. I needed to not be involved in theater, just to get my bearings as a person. Still, I was angry that my "senior Hsopkins self" ---the leader and inventive head of the school theater group, the Barnstormers, was lying dormant. Playing Willie---success of failure---would have been simply another rebuke, another reminder that I had walked away from my what I had accomplished at Hopkins---something that I would have to live down.

Anyway, here I sit, many years later, looking at the whole thing. Still, let's think about the play---how did a thirty three year old man have such insight into his characters as Miller did. Sometimes I think that is amazing. For this production I watched a few scenes, felt that I had seen as much as I needed to. It is a "quiet" day--I am on my own, and so will probably read a bit and listen to the radio before the football game (Giants-Eagles) that I have invested my own money in. Nothing much else to say, will report soon.

A day without much structure,....

Nothing planned, should be a little bit relaxing, but instead leaves me restless. Monday was chemo day, so I hustled over to the Cancer Center on 86th near Madison and took my four hours of treatment. Good interactions with nurses, nutritionist and a few others. Its a very organized place and it was good to see how well the the staff--nurses, young doctors, etc. worked together. That took care of Monday.Yesterday I had interaction with Jill, the nurse who comes from the after care center at Northwell, and helps me with my ostomy bag, which by the way, on Monday morning, in an emergency, I put on myself. Jill stays for about 25 minutes: she watches me put on a new bag, takes my blood pressure, cuts me some new bags, and is generally helpful. But again, there is real contact there. Need that.

Yesterday after Jill's visit, I headed to the used bookstore that has somehow managed to remain on Broadway near 81 street. Checked out $1.00 books out front, chose two, one a John Gresham mystery, which I am reading now (interesting in a formulaic way) and the other called In the Neighborhood, by a writer I don't know. It looked interesting---an exploration of a neighborhood in Rochester NY, where the author tries to discover what his neighbors are like. At least I think that is what it is about. After buying the books, I spent about a half hour, browsing the inside of the bookstore, where the books, still used, are a little more expensive. I would have liked to buy a book about a home in a black neighborhood in Philidelphia, and the changes it goes through over the years. But it was $8,00, and I did not want to spend that much---besides, I had to do justice to the two books I had just bought a lot----history, fiction, plays, sports, but did not take anything. I felt very stimulated while I was in the bookstore.

Finally, used the last part of the afternoon, to join an online betting world. I have decided that i am a good enough football spread handicapper to take some financial risks, so I deposited $80.00 in an online betting site, which the site soon made $120.00 Two bets for Thursdays game which pits the Giants against the Eagles. Took Eagles to be ahead by 3 at the half, and 4 at the end of the game. Pretty nice odds for a team that, even if they are banged up, should have the will to dominate the Giants, a team that is still getting it all together. What will happen? We shall see. I want to be very patient and careful as I choose my bets this year, no impulse gambling. 

Well, that is it---back to Mr. Grisham's mystery and maybe a few calls to friends. Will report soon.

Friday morning......

 Yesterday's life was so full of structure. A visit to Lenox Hill for a cat scan, requested by the doctor who is my radiologist. Arrived at about 10:30; stayed there until about 1:30. Some frustrating moments: previous cat scans did not have any preparation; for this one I had to drink a very large amount of water---probably mixed in with something else. Then threre was the waiting, and finally the cat scan itself. By this time, I was starving---but I still had to see my radiologist. When I arrived at her office, she was with another patient---I was having a tough time physically---not happy, one of her office assitants made a nice attempt to calm me down---finally she arrived and we had our session. The good news: the tumor did not grow at all since the last cat scan. Encouraging. The bad news: some very small lesions in my lungs---the doctor felt they were too small to examine---might be nothing, but might also be.....well you can guess. At any rate, we are going to wait to see the results of the chemo before making any decision. Chemo continues on Monday---not much going on until then.

Today very little structure---the after care nurse will help me with my ostomy bag, which by now, I am sure that I can change by myself---yet---I hesitate. I have to protest part of my spectrum bill---might do that today, also the department of labor of NYS in all its glory, now wants me to present a driver's licence--passport and social security card before benefits can be released. How petty of them! I have been on unemployment since 2000---they have as much information as they need--plus, I don't have a Social Security card---so I had to order one, and I will never get it in at the deadline that they set in the letter. Do they really know what they are doing there? This gets me so angry---I am ready to give up on them.

Rest of the time: continue reading Dynasty---maybe a little bit of Letting Go, try to do some budget planning (which I am always doing in my head, anyway) Will I get out and go where...? It is supposed to be a rainy day, so time will tell.

D

Struggling with demons---real and imagined.....

 Yesterday a tough day---don't even ask me why?  A little spillage while my friend Harlo was installing my new computer---not the easiest thing to deal with. Got it under control. 

This morning---awoke at around 2:30 A.M. Needed some coffee and a muffin. Determined not to wait. So, per usual, got dressed and embarked for the grocery store four blocks away, sometimes it seems like my second home, during the pandemic and my health problems. 3 A.M. east side of West End Avenue, very quiet, many doormen, I am usually the only person on the street. Four blocks going---pick up my coffee and muffin and then do the four blocks that return me to my apartment. A great journey! Well, it is a little daring to do this at 3A.M, and don't forget that I have also done this at 4 or 2 A.M. as well. Return to the apartment and enjoy the fruits of my labor---good coffee and a muffin that fulfills my sugar quota. Then back to sleep, usually. 

Now, almost 7 A.M. Ostomy bag change today---my nurse-helper Jill will visit me and we will change the bag together---except that I have almost reached the point where I can do it myself. Still, I wait....

Waiting means entertaining myself, since I have already taken my first trip outside. This is not easy, as I am anxious to finish the change---what are my reading options? A few days ago, I bought a book from a second hand bookstore a few blocks away. It is Dynasty---a sixteen year comprehensive history of the Yankees through their winning years----1949-1964. I had read the book before---actually when it first came out---I remember the time well, early summer of 1975. That was right before I began my affair with Nancy--the affair which lasted through January of 76, and which I was responsable for ending---or at least moving out of the comitted picture. A stable relationship, we did a lot of things together---we enjoyed seeing movies and plays---I was working as a "counselor" at the time on the lower east side---a school two blocks south of Houston Street called PS 4. But it had to end. Soon I would embark on my next relationship---one that would prove a lot more devastating in the end. But my time with Nancy created a relative calm in my life---how did I get into this...? Oh yes, the book about the Yankees. At the same used bookstore a few days ago, I saw Philip Roth's Letting Go---his first novel after his major success with the novella Goodbye Columbus and some telling short stories----and bought that for a dollar. This is a novel that I have read parts of many times---still always interests me. The narrator, a young would be writer, finds himself involved with a married couple about his age---and what follows are the ramifications of that triangle. Of course the book is enormous---about 600 pages---so the narrator encounters and is involved with many others as well. How much of it will I read...? Not sure---it is kind of like having an old friend around--but yesterday as I was reading the opening chapter I was surprised by how many new ideas I was encountering. I first read the novel in my Junior year at Hopkins---probably some heavy memories linked to that as well.

But as for now....I wait.....

tough day, today....

 couldn't hold on to anything---failure to allow what was possible to me in the apartment---books, internet, sports on radio---to excite me. At one point, stuffed food into my mouth---stomach a "little" hungry, but as soon as I absorbed the food, knew how silly it was. That was the straw that broke the camel's back: I realized that I was not being good to myself by putting the food into my mouth. Two phone calls calmed me down---I await the beginning of the Yankee--Ray game, which should take me into the later part of the night. But still, so many possibilities just on youtube---how many obscure operas that I might want to listen to---all of early Verdi---the many operas before Rigoletto----a book full of short stories by Lewis Auchincloss---you know how much I respect him---all the Theater Arts books sitting to the left of me---each one with a play that I might want to read  (they range from the "serious" i.e. Waiting For Godot to the frivolous Time Out for Ginger)---yet as stimulating as they might be I can't feell excited by the possibility of getting involved with them.

How does one "break the funk"? Good question---perhaps I can find out soon. Tomorrow I face the same kind of schedule---can I be little nicer to myself. Well, lets see what happens, will report soon.

Here I sit...

waiting for the home health nurse to help me change my ostomy bag. Could do it myself, but simply don't feel ready. Yesterday afternoon, almost had a crisis, but headed it off.  Need one more turn with the helper. I am simply not used to doing this, not a part of my life. But I still have about two hours before she arrives.

I find myself, in my spare time, going to Google maps and looking at areas of the Bronx where I could have had friends or which were mostly Jewish communities when I was growing up. I look at the street pictures and see the whole thing, the kids, the families, the single people who in their own way were "different" or outcasts. A whole world. So why did it end? It had to, our parents had gone as far as they could go, economically and emotionally. We were happy there as kids, but at the same time, taught that for us, there had to be something "better" in the outside world to strive for. Yes, we had to achieve more---certainly economically more then our parents. And that meant better homes, jobs, etc. If your were in your late teens or early twenties in the sixties, so many things were opening up in areas different from where we were raised, Rents in Manhattan were cheap---it was easy to find places to live---by oneself---there. And then, by 1967, came the "sexual revolution" which meant and in a minute, women who left college unmarried, and were considered in some circles, "desperate" now could live freely, experiment with more than one lover, and be considered the "vanguard" of the new liberty. In four years, the women who were engaged by the time they finished their four years of college, or getting married the moment they left college had gone from being scene as "successes" to women who needed to shelter themselves too much. In 1962, if you heard about a couple unmarried, living together, eyebrows would have been raised---now, it was a very normal thing. This could not take place in the "safe" Jewish communities of the Bronx and Brooklyn, where they had been raised---it needed a new space---like Manhattan. 

 And our parents grew old and frightened as "others" moved into their neighborhood with different mores. Some moved to old age communities in Florida or to safer parts of the Bronx, like Riverdale. Landlords wanted more and more rent, and rent laws favored the families that had moved into those buildings in the 30's, 40's 50's. It was a world which had to end---its children provided it with no future.

 

Having trouble posting...

 Something about my situation as it is, blocks me. It seems to be all a waiting game. I start chemo tomorrow. Last night, my life was dominated by controlling the ostomy bag. The bags the home care nurses keep giving me never last---lots of pressure to hold them together when I think it should be easier. I get a new one today; hopefully there will be some improvement. 

  All the problems began in the late afternoon. Before that I had listened to a performance of Don Giovanni from Covent Garden's opera house, and on you tube, Daniel Barenboim playing Beethoven's fourth piano sonata, opus 7. The sonata is the first long sonata that Beethoven wrote---it's second movement is complicated, challenging to listen to---full of slow ideas operating off each other. In other words: a marvel. Really hard to concentrate on this movement as it goes through its starts and stops. The third movement's first moment is super lighthearted in comparison with the second. Barenboim understood the transition brilliantly--those moments were played so sprightly---as if to wash out the darkness of the second movement.  For a moment I felt a true sense of excitement--a great sense of satisfaction that I understood the meaning of that transition.

In the early afternoon, came the Don Giovanni production. I know the opera by heart, but I was still really stimulated listening to the first act progress. The depth of the music and its ability to create real characters for the opera is amazing. To think, the first time I saw a production of the opera was in February of 66. At the Met, with Siepi, Evans, Lorengar, Rosenstock conducting. That morning I had what was to be the first of my four army physicals--when it was over and I had been rejected---that was the whole point--I celebrated first by going to Luigino's, a wonderful Italian restaurant on west 48 street, and then to the opera. I don't remember if I returned to my apartment, then on 94th street, after the meal---maybe I went straight to the opera house ane joined the standing room line. I was to see this production at least one more time that year---I absorbed it more then anything else. That was, of course, the last spring at the Old Met, and I was on that standing room line, many times. This was the beginning of my "infatuation with opera" phase.

This morning, despite fear that the bag might not hold while I was out, I did go to the food truck on Broadway and 78th. The bag held---I got a coffee and pound cake---my stomach is now fighting to absorb it---will not go out for a while. Good to write again---shall report soon.

My first post...

since my first visit to Lenox Hill. That was to clear out my colon before the operation that would switch myn"output" to an ostomy bag. Returned Thursday September 3, and remained stable until last Sunday.  At that point, I felt listless, could barely move my body across the apartment. Finally contacted 911, who sent over an ambulance to take me back to Lenox Hill. The workers were very warm and supportive.  Anemia! That's was the cause of the listlessness.

I remained for five (long) days. Lots of phosphates pumped into my body. Had to fast until Tuesday morning to make the passage clear. Spent a lot of time on my cot. Watched tv---was able to watch what I thought was going to be one of the pivotal series between the Yankees and Blue Jays. Pivotal it was not. The Yankees made Toronto a laughing stock, decimating the Blue Jay pitching staff. Kind of a joke.  I finally left on Friday night, my doctor warned me to have a tremendous amount of liquids. My friend Sarah and her husband drove me home, brought me some supplies and were very supportive. 

Yesterday, first day back was a quiet day, not too strong, this morning when I awoke I felt much stronger---parts of my body reminded me of "the time before", when I could do anything I wanted.  Went out twice, then at about 11, a kind of inner torpor seemed to invade my body, So two different feelings---I want to get out and move around---but I don't think my body is ready for it yet. Nothing to do but wait until tomorrow. I made a short trip to my bank and then to the used bookstore on Broadway near 81st--no problem there, but walked back very slowly. 

Rest of day will read, listen to football scores, and maybe some web surfing. Next appointment is on Thursday at the Hemotolgist---oncologist. Will see how everything turns out.

 

 

Time to take action...

Yesterday everything changed. The visit to the doctor turned into a suggestion from him that instead of waiting for the different procedures to kick in, I begin my treatment right away, and begin by coming to the emergency room this morning (saturday) and going under his care. I had complained of bad stomach cramps,and the doctor said to begin treatment now would stop them. However, the treatment will result in my having to wear an ostomy bag, for at least a while. How do I feel about that? Scared. After all, my body has hardly been touched for most of my life. But I have to do it.  The cancer is very real---it prevents a good flow of bowels from coming through, that is all there is to it.

So yesterday, with no warning, I was asked to prepare for spending about 5 days in the hospital. It took me  a while to rap my head around it, but I decided this was the best thing to do. Now, with a few hours left, I am just trying to organize the apartment. I did manage to buy Marjorie Morningstar, a novel by Herman Wouk, written in the fifties about an emerging "jewish princess" who dreams of being an actress. Her family has just moved from the Bronx to an apartment on Central Park West, and she is enthusiastic about the move. I think I started this novel when I was about 11, and it was a little over my head. Hopefully I should enjoy it now---will take it to the hospital with me along with Badenheim 39, another novel about Jews in the 30's---this one about a group who visit a resort outside of Vienna to for relaxation, even as the harsh reality of the Nazi advancement is closing in. 

Thats all for now---I really did want to write a post right before my hospital stay. Will hopefully resume the blog when I return.

 

One more day....

until my next encounter with the medical world. Tomorrow  morningI see another doctor from another hospital and present him with the information about the situation and my c t report. How did that happen? By sheer luck, my downstairs neighbor and friend works for one of the major hospital systems in the area. When I told her about my medical situation, she sprang into action.  Using my directory we found in doctor at Northwell and arranged the appointment. She did most of the work; she is most assertive in this field. Still, she insisted that I contact my hospital and asked (actually she said "insist") that they give me a copy of my recent C T scan and Pathology report. This got me anxious---was it right to do this? She assured me this was done all the time, so I did contact my gastroenterologists office and ask for the material. I thought it would be difficult, but yesterday they had it ready for me, so I picked it up. Now there is nothing more to do except wait until tomorrow.

Took a walk earlier today---my head flooded with memories of the play Blues For Mr. Charlie, by James Baldwin, spring and summer of 1964. Part of the short lived, Actors Studio Theater project.  A very powerful piece, a young black man is killed by a working class white man in the south. The play then traces the events leading up to the killing and then shoots ahead to its aftermath---the trial of the white man who did it. Al Freeman Jr. played the young black man---one of the most inspiring and meaningful performances that i have ever seen. He had a scene with Diana Sands, who played his girlfriend, in Act I of the play. The second time I saw it, I was sitting in the front row orchestra---I watched the two of them work together---the vibe between them was incredible; they were so relaxed yet so specific in their energy.  I saw Ms. Sands play Beneatha in A Raisin in the Sun, twice, so I already knew how great she was. Rip Torn played the white guy and Pat Hingle, an actor I always admired, played his closest friend, a lawyer who wants to mediate between the black and white community. 

Why did my memories of seeing this play shoot up at me this morning in such a specific way. It may have been my reaction to the sports boycotts that have taken place as a protest to the James Blake shooting in Kenosha. I heard a lot of talk about that and the possible NBA boycott ( that did not happen) on some early morning radio sports shows. Without getting deeply into it, let's just say I am happy that the players took a stand. 

All for now---24 hours from now, I should have some different information. Will report soon.

a trip to the dentist...

 Once upon a time, a trip to the dentist for a teeth cleaning, and examination was one of only many things cityboy did with his day. After his cleaning in December (the last one before this one) cityboy headed to Friends to watch Drama teacher Steve Boroka tell his story, show films of his major successes (of which there are many) and discuss the future of theater at Friends. Another time cityboy scooted over to the Met to catch a great performance of an opera he considers amazing: Die Frau Ohne Schotten, by Richard Strauss. The cleaning was tough but the fallout was minimal---then on to the next chapter in his life.
  Not so today. Well, this was the first cleaning in eight months, and his dentist indicated that there was  lot of plaque waiting to be cleaned up. But, as usual when he goes outside now for an extended period of time, cityboy has to make sure he has not eaten in at least two hours, and even if he gets hungry, he stays away from food All this worked out well---the cleaning was intense, and cityboy could hardly walk the half block from mid sixth to seventh avenue (57th street) because the force of the instruments was so strong. Then the hunger struck. Cityboy was able to quickly get a roast beef sandwich from a deli on seventh and eat most of it in the park---then grab a 7 bus back to his apartment. At the apartment, he could do little but lie down. So it has been for most of the day. Are the "two activity" days over for cityboy? Must there be only one dominant activity and then "home"? We shall see. For years cityboy had had his teeth cleaned mostly every three months, and the result was teeth that never aged. And how much bacteria that could have spread to the rest of his body was caught in those cleanings?  This cleaning, by definition, had to have a lot of strength---others in the future maybe not so much. Still, the chemistry in cityboy's body has changed, and it meant that once he returned to the apartment, his energy insisted he remain there.

  Cityboy spent the rest of the day, mostly reading the Christie mystery that captured his imagination so strongly yesterday. Got to the end, found out who the murderer was---mystery over. Amazing how Ms. Christie could create the elaborate puzzles and move her people in and out of places so realistically. Of course, now that I have finished the mystery, I realize how superficial, in terms of writing, it is. On to something a little more challenging. And yet, while i was reading it, following the twists and turns of the mystery, I never wanted to be anywhere else. 

Monday evening, late---I was sure there would be no blog entry today, but i seem to have found a second wind--not really tired now. So it happened. Will report soon

quiet day, today....

Got a new belt (finally) read some Agatha Christie, watched some baseball on an MLB trial, and stayed mostly around the apartment.

Texted one or two friends who were not aware of my medical condition. They replied with a lot of warmth and sensitivity and offered me support. Very moved by that. The tickets that I gave away to a friend to an outdoor one person play in Bushwick Saturday night were received and worked very well for he and his date. Another program is planned for Bushwick this Saturday in the afternoon. Wonder if I can make it? 

Began The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Christie at about 5:00 P.M., quickly went through 110 pages. These mysteries are amazing. They really remove your mind from everything else. She just sets up every incident so perfectly. One must read other stuff, obviously, but what she is capable of doing in the mystery form is really unique.

At a neighborhood bookstore this morning, noticed a new novel by Curtis Sittenfeld called Rodham. Apparently it is a fictionlized account of Hilary's life, but in a switch, she does not marry Bill and goes on and has her own career. This author wrote American Wife, which I must have read about 13 years ago, a thinly fictionalized life story of someone who could be Laura Bush, and I still remember it as being very special. Had to really fight with myself not to tear Rodham of the shelf and pay the $28.00 or so that the bookstore was asking, but kept myself in check, and returned it to its place. I have seen a few books in the neighboring bookstores that look really interesting, but I want to wait to see if the next stimulus package will arrive, giving me some economic breathing room. Then maybe I will go after them, Rodham included. The libraries have partially reopened but i hate having to order online, then waiting for a date and time that it can be thrown at me. Libraries for me are about browsing and choosing in the space, and if I can't do that, I would rather buy what I need. 

That is all for now. I have a dentist's appointment tomorrow---really need it, my teeth have not been cleaned for a very long time, and usually this procedure happens around every 4 months. Still, the teeth seem strong---well, we will find out....

Write something, cityboy

 Okay, 29 minutes to a Met Broadcast of Norma, by Bellini. Do you know that Norma was the first opera I saw at the Met? Thanksgiving night, 1956, my friend Ronnie's mother got tickets for her, him and myself. Cast" Callas, Barbieri, Baum and Moscona. Wish I could tell you every detail of Ms. Callas's performance, which I am sure was brilliant in every way, but I could not. Got distracted easily. Sitting in first row Family Circle side, knees hardly had any room. At the time, there was a popular song called Cindy, or Cindy (Cindy don't let me down. Write me a letter soon, and I will be homeward bound). By act III, I was tired, music was not reaching me, all of a sudden, a duet started. Believe it or not, the first four notes were exactly the same as Cindy, Oh, Cindy. Amazing! That got me involved for a little while. Well, my passion for opera  had to wait about ten years before coming to fruition, but I still remember that first trip.

What's happening here. Woke up this morning with a very weak body---thought that I might not be able to move much--a little panic. Finally pulled myself together with the help of some coffee and yogurt--that seemed to revive the body---have done some errands since then Aside from stomach pain am moving around very well.

I was challenged by a friend to seek another opinion re my treatment for the growth. I don't like to go in those areas, but may do some exploring next week. Meanwhile, who is taking care of the enormous stomach cramps that i have felt for three out of the last four days? May have to go back to the clinic to see if I can get some immediate help, since next actual date for exploration is not until September `15.

Was looking forward to the Yankee-Met series this weekend, which has now been canceled. Sad, because both teams were at very interesting points in their chase for the pennant. The possible clashes really fired up my imagination. Instead, there will probably be some double headers next week. 

Finished Suite Francaise, really glad that I read it---a super book. Not sure what is next. Barnes and Noble has A Movable Feast by Hemingway. Have always wanted to read that-this might be my chance. A Chistie mystery sits near my bedside---might be a good time for some escapism.

I have a reservation for a theater project in Bushwick this afternoon; probably will cancel, simply don't feel strong enough---but maybe not. Anyway we will see. And now I still have eleven minutes until the Norma Broadcast begins.

living in limbo....

Thursday morning: situation remains the same. I still have the option of calling up the Radiation Department at Mount Sinai and asking for an earlier time. Probably will do that either tomorrow afternoon, or Monday. Strange, how for the past two weeks, the momentum in discovering what was wrong and creating the strategy for fixing it, was strong---now---a void. Yesterday had tough stomach cramps almost the whole day, but not sure who to call---the surgeons who are guiding my treatment or the Ryan Health Center where my "primary care physician" is in practice. But since my "primary care" person is a stream of residents who move in and out of the Center, every six weeks, I wouldn't even know how to identify this person if I needed them. So I toughed it out. Today the stomach is more relaxed, but I just ate a slew of pretzels (I know I should not have done this) left over from the hummus that I bought at the drugstore a few days ago. Will this cause another "catastrophe"? We will see.

Where do we go from here---for some reason, on my way back from the drug store, I had strong memories of my second Saturday at Hopkins---1960. It was Yom Kippur (day) and Jeff, another freshman and myself took a bus to Park Heights Avenue---the central avenue of the then Jewish community in Baltimore. It was about 4 P.M.; we wanted to find a synagogue that would let us in to the last service of the day. It was a beautiful late summer day, and when we hit the avenue, it seemed lined with families who were taking breaks from the services. And what beautiful families they seemed to be--the men and boys all in suits, the wives, and especially the teen age girls, dressed in a modest way, but a way that showed off their beauty. There was nothing  about this scene that reminded my of life in the Bronx or Manhattan. I was walking in a totally different world, a world that seemed calmer and warmer. Looking at some of the young women, who must have been in high school, admiring and longing for their beauty, my seventeen year old self must have had one of my "green light at the end of the dock" moments. Forgetting about my studies at Hopkins, I wanted to be part of that "paradise". But of course, I made no attempt to meet those people. My friend and I simply walked from synagogue to synagogue until we found one that had seats; we then participated in the final service, then returned to our home, the Hopkins Campus.

Three years later, Yom Kippur afternoon was also on a Saturday. This time, I returned to Park Heights Avenue by myself and simply wandered through the streets, once again filled with Jewish families from the area, But by this time, I had actually dated a few women from the area---from Freshman to Senior in college life years is a long time. I remember being more detached---I simply wanted to look at the scene and remember my feelings from three years earlier with some detachment.

But what I could not have envisioned on that Saturday afternoon, was that these families would be very close to the last families that would be celebrating the Jewish New Year in that area. By 1970, the majority of people living in the Park Heights area would be black---stores would close, crime would go up.  The situation there still exists today---it is a part of Baltimore in terrible need of services, of greater input then the government is giving it, a neighborhood that could use participation by all to make it stronger. 

What makes cities change, neighborhoods change...? Eternal questions that need to be answered.

 

suspended in space....

 A strange experience; but let's backtrack:

Yesterday, met with the surgeon Dr. Mehta and an assistant doctor. They were very warm and accessible, easy to talk to and listened to me. But for what I had there is (was) no escape. Their proposal to handle the growth began with my getting chemotherapy to shrink it, and then, if it was small enough, to operate to remove it. More complications: I might have to have a colonoscopy bag before or after the operation. So there it was, a nine month commitment at the minimum. I think I had expected (or hoped for) much less. I left their office trying to process all the information. 

Some sadness, some "why me?" self complaints, but in reality I felt relieved in the moment. At least now I knew what was happening, what was going to be done about it---the worrying each time my stomach felt a new attack or each time the attack worked itself through, would be over. I was on a track with a vision, and I would follow it. So the present, in a way, is liberated, and can be interesting in itself.

Now the bad news: the doctors wanted me to have an MRI and a chest ex-ray quickly, to help  them get a better look at the positioning of the growth. They told me they would order one the next day (today). That was fine with me; I also returned to the hospital today for some blood work. But shortly after returning home, the phone rang. It was the doctor's office---the appointment for the MRI and the chest ex-ray would be September 15. September 15th!!? That is four weeks from today. I reminded the secretary that these tests were somewhat vital, but all she could say, was, even with the doctor's urgency, those were the first dates available. She told me that I could contact the radiology department on my own, and ask if there were any cancellations, but that was my only hope. You can be sure that either on Friday or Monday I will call that department and see if I can get an earlier date. 

That's what I mean by "suspended in space" (really in time). All the momentum and force of getting treatment has dissipated---assuming I can't get an earlier time, it is almost as if time has stopped on the disease. I am in a strange (and kind of ironic) limbo. 

So there you have it. Where do we go from here? Not sure.

About today

 Here are some facts about today:

It's Sunday

It's grubby and ugly outside. I would love to find an indoor space to relax and read, but guess what? (You already know this) There aren't any. The city, in its ultimate wisdom, refuses to open any indoor spaces for quiet recreation. Cooling centers might be open , but it is Sunday, and they are pretty uninviting anyway. So I have spent most of the day inside.

Early part of the day: WQXR had a set of interviews with black musicians who participated in the classical music field. Interesting insights from the first black Philharmoic violinist, and a conductor whose father was the first black man to be hired to sing at the Metropolitan Opera (Robert McFerrin). Then Musical Director of the Met, Yannick, had his hour in which he spoke about Mozart and played some of his favorite Mozart pieces and some other pieces that he felt were influenced by Mozart. I listened carefully, I wanted to fully absorb his vision.

Later in the day. Lock in the front door of the apartment house became impossible to open. Nervous making. Our handyman Hector, arrived and he and I tried to fix what was going on. Nervous making because sometimes I go to the grocery store late at night or early in the morning. Did not want to be locked out. Finally borrowed another tenant's keys, which for some reason, magically had no problem with the lock, and made copies. I have them now, problem, solved. (I hope)

Reminder: tomorrow afternoon is my interview with the surgeon. She will explain to me what should be done about the growth, and I assume we will take it from there. So this is also a "wait" day---everything kind of stops until we go to the next step with my medical condition. 

"Medical condition" such an odd way of putting it. It seems that not so long ago, I had no"medical condition", I could move around the city, day to night, without worrying about fatigue. But now....

Tonight, will talk to one of my close friends, who is seeing me through this, and probably hear some of the Yankee-Red Sox game (aka, the slaughter of the innocents). Then the morning will come.

So that is it for this blog entry. Sheer facts--will report soon.

So it was....

Thursday morning dialogue:

Doctor: Did you call the surgeon?

Me: No, should I?

Doctor: Yes, about the cancer. The cat scan shows it hasn't grown since the picture taken at the colonoscopy. 

Me: I will call right now.

That was the first time the Doctor actually referred to what the pictures had shown in my body as "cancer". How was I to take that. Wasn't "cancer" what only happened to others? At that moment, my body felt nice and loose. Still, I made the phone call, and will see the surgeon on Monday at 3:30. After that.....?

Yesterday (Thursday) was pretty easy. Spent the day talking to my "support group" of four or five friends, those who have asked to remain informed as things change. Sometimes figuring out who to call when, it seemed like I was planning for a party, or something like that. Late in the evening, stomach cramps began. Still continue now, though not in a terribly intense form.

Had trouble sleeping last night---today, up at 5 for my usual "coffee journey" over to the grocery store 4  blocks away. After that the day moved very slowly. At about 10, felt a need to sleep--that would make sense after last nights craziness. Lay down, for some reason before I fell asleep a memory: of a trip that I would make to Baltimore in late October 1964. My first trip back to the college I had graduated from the summer before. Now I was a student at Yale School of Drama, feeling very outside of things. At Hopkins, I was in the middle of everything, artistic and socially. The group that I had been part of must have had about ten students and others moving in and out. Only two of us--my friend Don and myself---had been seniors. Still missed the "heat" of the world at Hopkins,  the sense, perhaps, that every encounter I had with another person defined me,  the rage I felt when I saw a guy who I felt was much less interesting then myself with his, permanent girl friend, even as I tried to negotiate the much colder world of the Drama School. Stayed over Saturday into Sunday. Tried to get involved in the social "action" as much as I could. On Sunday morning visited J....the woman who was most important to me the year before, now a Sophmore at Goucher college. 

As I remembered it this morning, sleep deprived and all, thought that it must have been difficult to be suspended between the two worlds. The Hopkins whirl --that is, being tested and involved, emotionally and erotically, was much more familiar to me, but now it was stopped.  Still, these were my friends who I shared so much with the year before, and they were still there. Was I envious? Probably. Yet what could I do? I had shown so much strength the year before, that I had to move on. Could I return to Baltimore, get some kind of job and hover around the campus? A joke---it would have been admitting I had failed as a theater person. And I was not going to do that. So after seeing J... I returned to New Haven and continued my time at Yale. 

About four weeks later, after a long talk with my parents, had to admit that there was a strong possibility that I would not continue there---I would return to New York and (if I could avoid being drafted) be on my own. The first major transition in my life was about to take place.

Time to return to the reality of the moment. Friday about 11:30---one errand planned for today, that is all. Try to get as much from each moment as possible. Everything leads to Monday afternoon.

 

Now what...?

 Cat scan done well around 1:30 in the afternoon. Staff who performed it very personable and supportive. I would have liked to see the results right away, but they told me that the results would be e-mailed to the doctor who ordered the cat scan, and then they would contact me.  Staff member told me that the doctor's office would have it by the next morning (today). So I wait. If i hear nothing from them by 10, I probably will call them and see if they have received it. Sometimes a little prodding with the staff can be helpful. 

  Nice sense of relief when I left the hospital. Hungry, had not eaten since around 8:00---the hospital is on 59th and 10th, I remembered an all purpose dining room at 55th and 8th, and walked over, hoping it was open. It turns out it was---and I, who have stayed away from food broiled or cooked, filled my plastic plate with four kinds of chicken. Had to do it. Turns out it was very good and did not trouble my stomach that much. 

Returned home and spent a very uneventful rest of the day around the apartment. Listened a bit to the two baseball games that were on the radio (Yankees-Braves and Mets---Nationals) but found myself annoyed by the repetition of the announcers. I usually enjoy the Yankee announcers---yesterday I simply felt I had had enough of them Some good games this weekend---a Yankee-Boston series is coming up; I will have to figure out if I can tolerate the announcers, since my interest might be strong.

Right now, body feels very loose and relaxed. Still some stomach problems but the "coolness" in the rest of my body is making me feel very optimistic now. Feel like I can go out and do anything. Let's see how that fits in with the cat scan results.

A waiting day...

 A day like no other. Tomorrow is my cat scan---1:30 to be exact! That will reveal the nature of the growth that was discovered in the colonoscopy. Today (at least in theory) I exist simply to move into the next day. Yet a little while ago I was sitting outside the coffee shop on Broadway near 77th street, reading Suite Frsancaise and feeling so excited by the way it absorbed me. A kind of "love" synergy between myself and the book. I wanted nothing more than to be right where I was.

Now, back in the apartment, I try to piece together what the rest of the day will be like. Another trip outside to read, since the last one was so fulfilling. Possibly? WQXR's Mozart festival continues, although it is possible to go to the station web site and find yourself listening to another composer's work, not Mozart. Although the station advertises that mostly Mozart will be played, sometimes they just put on the first work of the hour by Mozart, and then forget about him completely. Still, it is better than nothing, and there are some really interesting music that will be played. So I return to it, hour after hour, hoping to catch the one meaningful Mozart piece that the station allows.

This morning, at around 3 A.M. woke up, remembered the day, and had a half fantasy-half dream. Full of rage, I saw myself as a homeless, Viet Nam war veteran, walking through the city, screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming what..? Gobbledegook, anger? This man was alienated and crazy. The whole image was so strong, it upset me; I had to reign it in. So what did it mean? I am neither homeless, nor did I serve in Viet Nam. Who was this explosive creature I had put my identity into? It probably represented the rage that I felt, especially at that time, at being hemmed in by the day. That is the conrtradiction of being awke at 3 or 4 in the morning. I seem to be my at my strongest, yet, of course, but where does one put all that energy at that time. Passion trapped in the apartment! So it goes.

And so we move closer and closer to tomorrow. Will report how it goes.....