after a harsh weekend....

 24 hours of no heat on the coldest evening of the year---things are leveling off. Kind of drowsy today---had the chance to see Gnit, at its final performances---would have been a lot of fun---but just could not do it---still tired. On Thursday, got myself to the Tank, to see a very strong one woman play performed and written  by my friend Zoe. Beutifully done--full of wonderful eclectic energy--I was really very impressed and happy for her. My first post pandemic and post illness play---made it without any problems. Of course, it was only an hour. Still, augured well for future play visits.This was followed the next night with the hell of cold weather coming into the window, with three heaters keeping me warm, but aware that the heat in the apartment house where I live had been arbitrarily cut off. Did not sleep much; tutored on Saturday morning---then returned to the cold---finally at around 5, heat restored. No reason for this catastrophe given. Slept very soundly once the heat was on. 

Somehow, a few minutes ago, my thoughts turned to Graham Avenue in Brooklyn. Why? Visited a few bars on that block--played trivia at a bar near there--the blocks near the L train full of bars and cafes and pizza places. At one time, if I wanted to see what was there, I just went. Harder to go there now---however have made two visits to the new Drama book store. Larger and for me, more inviting then the old store---one can just bring a book, sit down at a table and read, with or without coffee, plus their play selection is enormous--everything from "hits" to totally obscure work. Lots and lots of shelves.I found several books devoted to plays performed by the Group Theater in the thirties, that were not written by Clifford Odets. They are pretty obscure now, still, at some point I would like to read them, or some of them, just to see what they were like.

Still reading the Henry Roth autobiographical novel: A diving Rock on the Hudson---his story of his childhood and early teens. Still drawn in with so much power to his events---the relatives and friends who he is around. The echoes---the echoes from my childhood. Again, even though my  parents were totally assimilated Jews--I hear their relatives---or the people around the neighborhood, with their accents, their lack of assimilation, their sense of being out of place and the rage that came with it. Trying to put my finger on it with words---hard.

So this blog ends on that note---more to come soon.