All Dressed Up....

 and "nowhere to go." that seems to be where I am right now---Christmas Eve--in the past two days have tutored 6 sessions---some very fulfilling ones, and here I am now with tonight and tomorrow free---I promised myself that I would see at least 2 movies during this time---there are about 15 interesting possibilities in the city---but am somewhat lethargic, as 6 o'clock rears its ugly head, and I don't know if I have the energy to stick it through a movie yet I long to get out the apartment! Coffee---somewhere---someplace---oh well--so where do we go from here. 

Remembering a Christmas Eve spent first in Bushwick and then at South Fourth---must have been 15 or 16--no, I think it was 14, Lots of fun conversation---bartender Merlin at South Fourth had several friends in--a playwright from the middle east---we worked on a crossword puzzle together---then joined by others, including another young female playwright whose career has become a major one. Now South fourth is no more---the Cobra Club in Bushwick is too far away---and I am here.  Lower energy, but of course that is the result of extra years---the illness---and other things.

Returned to Friends on Friday for their Christmas Assembly--recongnized by many---nice words from a couple of boys from the graduating class who remembered my subbing for them. nice since that will be 5 years in March. Still feel both welcome and unwelcome there---not trying to work it out now, but I would like to integrate myself more in the community then I am now. Afterwards, stayed around and saw a fascinating production of The Merchant of Venice at CSC. My friend played Shylock--we spoke afterwards and I also spoke to the director, who appreciated my comments. Nice being part of that environment again---felt I belonged, and had something to say. Wanted to see the final play at the Soho rep venue on Walker Street, but could not get to it, Maybe one theater visit was exciting enough for the weekend.

So here we are---still restless and tired---not the best combination, But will report soon.

Sunday morning---9 days later....

 Yesterday night---returned to BAM (why returned?) to see Flako's installation, Mercedes, a memorial to his amazing grandmother, who raised him in Bushwick and was an inspiration to so many others that she interacted with. Her last days were dominated by dimensia, and a documentary at the center of the presentation goes into that in depth. Glad I went: lots of contact and conversations with other people---somethng that my life had been lacking the rest of the week--why...? Many hours of tutoring which meant returning to the apartment feeling very tired--then simply grabbing a prepared meal at Fairway or Citarella and after eating, usually falling asleep. Awake around 10 or 11, then web browsing then....anyway, it was refreshing to talk to people---including Joey, a person who knew me from the indie theater days of the pre pandemic. Lots of memories shared--after the presentation, the production had created a healing room at the Fisher, so I spent some time there---did some writing, actually and then went to Fulton bar to watch basketball and gorge on an iceberg wedge salad. One of the mental health representatives who was part of the project offered me a take home from Meals on Wheels.(this was at the Healing room, not the bar) ; I rejected it--told her that an elderly persn more needy then I  should receive it. Still maintained my independance.

Per last report: did actually go to the Met and see Die Frau Ohne Schatten---at least the first act (a long first act) of it. Memories flooded back to me as I was listening to this amazing music.  October 66--23 years old---trying to put things together---my opera fanatic days---going to the Met on a Sunday evening to see an obscure Strauss Opera--expecting simply to absorb it--remember the fantastic production--the amazing performance of Christa Ludwig in the pivotal role of the Dyer's wife, and the yelling and screaming of the audience at the end of the opera--we had all discovered and participated in something that was uniqe and brilliant. Saw it two more times that season--all about trying to find myself---so last Friday I found myself overwhelmed with perhaps the memory of my own vulnerability in the Fall of 66. Simply too much to deal with so I could not let myself continue at the opera. Grabbed a coffee and cookie at the nearby Gefffen Hall lobby--relieved to return totally there to the present. Same feeling as I listened to part of yesterday's broadcast of the opera--had to shut it off at times---the music--its sound, is totally unique to me--nothing else like it. 

Tired today--will rest a bit--coffee with some young friends who live upstairs from me--should be mellow and interesting Not sure how the rest of the day will turn out..will report soon.

A Thanksgiving to "Remember"

 A really strange day. No visit to my relatives on Park Place in Brooklyn, since they decided to do Thanksgiving on the 15th. I was there---it was fun. No problem with no plans, since I had many sessions with the the three days previous, and wanted a "blank" day. So one movie choice--what would it be...?  Nahan-ism, at the Quad-a documentary about a 90 year old man who joined the victorious American army in 45, only to be stationed in Nurenberg and assigned to guard Nazi war criminals awaiting trial. Of course, Nathan was Jewish too, so you had a Jew guarding and interacting with the very men who were the architects of the Holocaust. But Nathan was also a spontaneous artist, and as he guarded, he made etchings of the prisoners who he interacted with.  A harsh, brutal immersion into the brutality of the Holacaust with other issues as Nathan's followers in the present attempt to verify his claim to being there. I felt immersed in the horror but undrestood that was what I had chosen--left feeling that I had experienced something very intense.

Returned to the apartment---feeling very tired---aware that on this Thanksgiving with many others celebrating together that I was alone. Had my meal--the computer ready, but for some reason I refused to open it. Spent the next 10 or so hours resting--or sleeping--would wake up feeling "blank" Would not te-open the computer--could have easily done so and checked out the football scores or visited other sites--but did not. Why? Did I feel I was only being "fair" to the movie by not moving my imagination in another way. Thought of this incredible juxtaposition: Thanksgiving and the Holocaust--somewhat amazing.

Friday morning--it is over now--calm returns--as do the visits to the web sites that I usually visit. Today--possibly a free day--maybe on session---tonight the Met has an opera which I am very familiar with---Strauss' Die Frau Ohne Schotten---not sure if I want to live through it--but as I look at the schedule of performances this one seems the only one I can be sure of attending.  Oh well---"problems, problems" can be solved soon.

So it is three weeks later---

 I don't think that I wanted to wrtte anything since the election. But have just returned from Geffen Hall, where I sat in the lobby while Bronfman was playing Beethoven's 3rd piano concerto. Amazing! Just what I needed this evening---the brilliance of Beethoven. Nice go be able to sit in the lobby---in a chair by myself---and simply get the performance from the live feed that the Philharmonic now supplies. Great way to see a concert---one just hears the one piece one wants to and then can move on. In this case, after the intermission the Orchestra performed a symphony by Nielsen---and I had no desire to hear it--plus I was incredibly tired ---so time to go home.

Waiting for the bus on 66th and Broadway, noticed a woman traveling with a walker. On a closer look I realized this was a woman named Susan---a close friend of mine during my last year of high school. I walked over to her to say hello---but somehow she did not respond--on the bus, also, she looked straight ahead---I followed her on, but did not say hello---leave it alone. Yet there she was, this woman whom I once shared thoughts with about  friend of her who I dated for awhile. Memories of those conversations with her so specific--where are they now? 

Had two great sessions this morning with two very different children---the first--a shy third grader,s struggling with her math skills, the second a lively fifth grade boy with a good mind---we worked on fractions and decimals. Felt very vital with both of them.Lots of sessions ahead---even with the holiday weekend approaching.

Nobody seems to be talking about the coming administration--all conversation seems to be "normal"--that is life just seems to be moving on. A radio station lauds the fall weather---theater and concert schedules into the first three or four months of the new year seem to present a world oblivious of any changes that this new administration will cause.

Tomorrow mostly a free day. Still would love to catch up on some movies---well can do that on Thanksgiiving, since the Thanksgiving that I usually spend with my cousins has already passed. We had it last Friday because some relatives did not with to travel on or around the holiday. Makes sense--actually looking forward to a quiet day at home,

Restless night...Halloween over

 Around 4:30. Have slept enough---my body wide awake, or at least functioning somewhat normally. Me at the computer. I go to the maps of the Bronx---for some reason my brain (vision) wants to explore Echo Place. Echo Place is a small street that simply appears out of another street, near the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. My uncle Henry and Aunt Celia lived on Echo place---from time to time our family visited then---those were always "nice" visits--there is a park nearby, called Echo Park and I remember playing there with some other neighborhoo't td children, But at that time the area was all white and overwhelmingly Jewish. Now, of course, it is almost completely black and Hispanic, working class. What do I remember most when I see the picture of the street on the map? Safety--a calm neighorhood, totally non violent. Would I go there now? About three weeks ago on a Saturday afternoon, I "wandered" around a few streets about half a mile south of Echo Place. I was the only white person there, and yes, I got some "looks". So I don't think I will visit Echo Place soon---or maybe I will---or should.

Memory--a hunger for "what"? I see my childhood in those streets, the visits to my relatives, many of whom lived in that area. I see my three years at Bronx Science in those streets because so many of the students in the class of 60 lived either on, or in close proximity to the Grand Concourse. But how does one put the two worlds together? An integration that seems impossible. If I returned to Echo PLace now, say on a Saturday afternoon, with everyone out and about, I would still feel as if I did not belong---but I don't. Just as when I walk on Nostrand Avenue in Brooklyn, north, from Eastern Parkway to Fulton Street I understand that twenty or thirty years ago, I would have felt very uncomfortable on those street, now I am "pretty good" with it---no real apprehension.  So where does that leave me? 

Close to 5 A.M. in an hour, I can visit the coffee cart a block and a half away from where I live---make my first contact of the day. Their coffee can at times be "awful" but at $2.00. it offers something reasonable financially for this time. That's all.

Another Sunday morning....

 Where do we go from here? Woke up feeling strange...alone...odd dreams from the night--now having had my coffee, and wandered a bit around the upper west side, am trying to figure out what to do with the day. An interesting theater project in Brookyn at the Brick--but that is at 5; do I want to build my day around that. Bronx Doc has two documentaries that are interesting, but that means going to the Bronx--the space is located in a working class mostly black and Hispanic neighborhood---I have been there before--actually pre pandemic many times, and always had a meaningful time, but do I want to take a deep dive into the Bronx. Maybe just hit my friend's bar at 1 and immerse myself in pro football for a few hours, and figure it out from there. Or what about visiting the Center for Fiction in Brooklyn and just reading---I really like that. Yes---choice after choice---but where am I in all this?

Two play reports: Last Sunday--Our Class at CSC--a really brilliant afternoon of theater-a "holocaust" play---very strong--a great cast and a brilliantly conceived production. Very stimulating. Yesterday night,went to a production of Twelth Night at a small theater in the west village. A very focused and coherent production of the play---excellent ensemble acting---I actually thought this was a musical version of the play---it isn't---but successful nevertheless. Always would like to see a production in which Orsino and Malvolio are played by the same actor---but probably won't, But that is the great thing about Shakesepeare---it can always be explored. The theater was actually an off Broadway theater during the "first era" of off Broadway (about 55 to 67)--I remember seeing a production of Behan's The Hostage there probably during my second year at Hopkins (Christmas vacation) 

That's it for now---will try to figure things out--a very busy week ahead with many students, then infusion, then visits to theaters in Brooklyn already committed for Saturday and Sunday evening. Stay tuned.

Gather your thoughts....

 so many "voyages" in the last few days. Yesterday, a walk on a placid street in Washington Heights, followed by a documentary about summer of 65 at the Film Festival---yes, I finally made it! But am I better for it? Obsessing about getting into a film showing at the Festival sometimes is more interesting then aactually going to it  But there I was-at 7;15 last night--plenty of seats available for the semi-documentary entitled TWSD---named after the Beatles song from the early sixties. Interesting documentary--juxtaposes the Beatlle "mania" of the teen age girls as the band arrives for its August 65 visit to NY and its performances at Shea Stadium with the Watts riots in LA and the sentiment of black citizens living in Harlem at the time. Then back to three young women--all white and privieged---on their way to the Beatle concert at Shea. Interesting---though the final segment--see above---seemed to go on for too long. Still not sure what the creator of the movie--he wrote and directed it---meant by the juxtaposition of the two worlds. No talk afterwards---on the way back to my apartment, longed for someone to have a dialogue with about the movie, but this did not happen. Tomorrow is the Festival's final day---hope to see one or two movies that are showing--also hope to check out at least one George Stevens movie at the Film Forum---also tomorrow--a day off. Can I do it? Will I? Stay tuned.

Today going to see a matinee of a play at CSC. Our Class--a serious play about a group of Jews and non Jews who grew up together before World War II as friends, and how the war changed them. Long and intense--my friend Richard is one of the ensemble. He plays the oldest person in the group---I met him around 89 when he was just out of Brown---he did several readings for me, while I was doing them. Now he plays the elder. Well time moves. Had been promising myself that I would check the play out soon, and finally made the move yesterday morning when I reserved my seat. Afterwards.depending on my energy, may go to my friend's bar on Avenue C and ninth and watch football and maybe the first Met playoff game. Will have to see how I feel.

Two days off in a row---does not happen too often---then back to the "grind" which means probably no night life choices. Would like to change that...can I? 

Why So Few Entries...

 You can do better. Your trip to the Bronx actually two trips, one on a Saturday and the one to BronxScience on the next day. The Saturday trip: A voyage between 170 and 175 street off the Grand Concourse ---I area that, as the few readers of this blog my know, was all Jewish and prosperous when I was growing up. Now, all black and Hispanic ---I did not see one person on my travels who I would consider "white" Well, why was I there? I thought some sneakers at a Foot Locker located on 170 near Jerome Avenue would be cheaper then in Manhattan. Of course I was wrong---they were either as expensive or a little more. I received some "looks", like what was I doing in the neighborhood, but no problems. Subways easy to navigate. 

What am I to make of this? It was Saturday afternoon---lots of people were out. I went because I wanted to get in touch with some memories, (or some ideas of memories) of my childhood. I know it is a different neighborhood now--still trying to "bridge the gap" in my own head between my childhood and now. The next day I went to Bronx Science to play the role of "college interviewer" for six seniors. My third year of doing it-- lots of energy and good conversations. Bronx Science is located further north then where I was the day before, but still had to travel on the 4 train to its destination. Same thing--on the 4 train, I never sit--stand and look out of the door windows at that world that I once knew.

So we move on---yesterday a day all around Brooklyn---today, a body needing to recover from all the "action" of the day before. That trip---a story in itself, may be next, but not quite now. Stay tuned.

Reading Paul Auster....

 his memoir about the death (and then the life) of his father. Called, the Invention of Solitude it is a portrait of a rigid man---a man who should really never have been a parent---and its effect on his son. Of course, Auster, at that moment has incredible insight as he draws his father's l, ife---and the boundaries that his father set up to others. My own father was incredibly different, and yet the portrait resonated with me in a unique way. Why? Well I was born 4 years before Auster, so we were raised in a certain era with certain rules that were similar. Yet my father was "present"---took me on Sunday trips when I was 6 or 7; instilled in me a great love of performace---allowed me to absorb myself in it---was very comfortable with that---up to a point. Ah, but that "point". Is this where the personalities of these two incredibly different men of the era become similar. How can that be? Auster's father gave him no support as a child---could never give him praise---almost machine like in his day by day existence---an existence his wife, Auster's mother, had to endure for about 14 years. Well, it was the time. My father was thrilled when I did well--followed me closely--gave me praise when he felt I deserved it---but, on the other side of that--was quick to let me know if I had failed his vision.Even early on--when I was eleven and in the sixth grade, and did poorly on a geography test, he had no trouble letting me know his disappointment. Of course, it never occurred to him, that this imagination he had instilled in me, and was excited every time I went to the theater, would have found geography boring. Somehow, he could not make that distinction, for he was a teacher, and a test was a test ---I was "bright" so I had to do well on it. 

So one is left with more contradictions---unlike Auster's father my father was not afraid to get involved--yet like his father, he had blind spots, and if, in the course of the proceedings one "hit" those blind spots, a rigid pattern would replace all the giving. Well, they were of the same generation and the same religion--also were members of large famiilies, so maybe the undercurrents of that generation bonded them. Of course, socially they would have had no use for each other---the teacher who loved the arts and the businessman who saw money as survival. 

Now to real life--had a 'tiring" day yesterday, perhaps still dealing with the effects of the last infusion which was the past Thursday. Still, when I went out for coffee this early morning, felt good--my body telling me it wanted to move. Have a busy day today---have to thread my way through all my choices before I see my first student. Will report soon.

Return to Park Slope!

 Oh my God! Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn. I promised myself that I would leave the upper west side at any cost! So I did---started off near BAM, had a coffee and desert---then headed to Grand Army Plaza and the Central Library. Like the Niarchos Center on 5th and 40th, this library is enormous---means enormous choices for me to consider. Both these libraries overwhelm me---all my interests seem to shove threw my brain, and any real choice seems impossible. But wondered around for at least an hour---maybe more---through fiction, theater (both American and English); then upstairs to art and history--many, many choices--last room the history room---gravitated towards books about the south Bronx---same old story--disinvestment and then remarkable commitment from the community to improve. But I have heard that so many times. Still trapped in "lost" vision of the Bronx that I grew up in---the mostly Jewish, mostly white Bronx that changed around the late sixties or early seventies. Left the library---did not take anything out, then gravitated to Prospect Park West, a few blocks over. Just sat.  Observed the neighborhood---now, as everyone knows, very high priced. Remembered my adventures there in the late sixties and early to mid seventies--friends in inexpensive apartments---one or two bars---that world attracted nurses, social workers, some young actors, of course writers---an easy place to live---very laid back--people could be "cool" with one another. Saw Al of that while watching the present. And now what is this neighborhood? A warm and beautiful shrine to wealth! At least that was my perception of it. Remember the boundaries changing---nobody living west of 6th; then fifth; then------still would be lying if I did not say I enjoyed---felt safe in that calm environment. Stayed on the bench in awe for what must have been a half hour--then walked to 7th ave---turned right towards Flatbush and eventual Subway ride back to the upper west side. But needed an ice coffee---found myself near the coffee and desert shop called (I believe) Cousin John. Went in---wow! Overwhelmed by the pastry choices---never have seen so many--over consumption...? Seemed a perfect complement to the wealth of the neighborhood. Staff very pleasant---finished and walked to Flatbush and north to Bergen---took the subway home.

What to make of all this? Sitting on the bench on Prospect Park West---looking at the luxury building across the street---where was I in all this? As repulsed as I was by how homogenius the world of Park Slope had become, wasn't it also true that I could imagine myself living there comfortably? Hating the neighborhood for what it had become, yet anxious to return. A longing to integrate myself into that world. Stuck with this basic contradiction---how does it end?

Monday morning---body tired from yesterday's trip--one session in the library later in the day---return to normalcy. But can't give up that image.....

Last night....

 around 8---not sure how to spend the rest of the evening, but definitely wanted to go out.  Headed for Lincoln Center--figured that if the Geffen was closed, I woulld just walk around the grounds---maybe stop on a bench and read with the little light that was left. But for some reason I headed south---body felt much stronger then I had expected, and at Columbus Circle walked west---now at 59th and Ninth. To the south---all of Ninth avenue---should I explore....? Decided to do it and thus began my walk South on Ninth---what a circus! The only way I could describe it. Every block saturated with eating places---either bars or specialized restaurants---all at high prices---several small pizza shops as well--I guess that is where one gets ones cheap eats in the neighborhood. Streets crowded with people; most restaurants pretty full. Walked up to 51 street---sometimes checked both sides. Looking for a sports bar, that at some point I might be able to watch baseball---found one or two, but of course, did not go in---I was not hungry and no beer at this point. The Avenue is not much different then it was pre pandemic--if anything, it seems that there are more places to go into. Remember this was a Monday ---what must it be like on the weekends---so here it is---high end NYC---flourishing but only available to people with a certain amount of money---a garish playground. As the body got tired, and feeling that I had gotten enough information about the block (or blocks) I walked east to 8th avenue---quieter there and waited for the 104 to take me home---waited, actually about 15 minutes. Remember when  104's came almost every 3 minutes? Not Tany more---the bus was mostly empty, and consisted mostly of elderly people. This was a Monday and only a few shows on Broadway had performances, but even on the rest of the evenings---the 104 still runs slowly.

For the rest---sessions seem to be building---reading a lot---Sejanus, a play by Ben Johnson, Shakespeare's contemporary. Johnson writes very well and his characters are articulate, but mostly the play reads more like a treatise on governing then a drama. Narrative spread out as well. Still, I am getting a lot out of it. Should continue and finish it by today or tomorrow. More news and "adventures" to follow...

The "horror" that is Wooster Street

 Yesterday early evening. I return to the Performing Garage---certainly have not been there since the Pademic---to see a project performed by their high school summer group. From Canal east to Wooster, kind of a mess. Then Wooster and Canal to Wooster and Broome. All new luxery apartments! All of them! Remember when the space was small and barren? Well, that was practically 50 years ago---did you expect things not to change? Yes, I understand that, but somehow, walking along that street was overwhelming. Finally reached my destination---it began to rain and I was early so I stood under an awning near the theater, waiting to be admitted. And I looked South, at the street I had just walked on---I tried to envision the life or world of the street over the past 50 years. It was as if the last 50 years passed through my head. I think the first time I went to the Garage was around 78 or 79 to see one of their plays directed by Richard Schechner. The theater was building their reputation--this project had gotten good reviews---I I Iremember not being too impressed. Yes, that was the late seventies! Soho was just beginning to explode. Have seen several projects there since then---still...

Said hello to my friend Mike, who was one of the few adults in the presentation---touching base with him was the reason I was there. He was happy to see me---we talked a bit---he was surrounded by well wishers, as is usually the case, so I moved on. Just began to feel hungry---a Caeasar salad at a bar with a TV watching baseball would have been fine. So I walked north to find one---stopped at one or two and looked inside---but did not go in. Why? Since the pandemic stopped there are basically only two bar restaurants that I feel comfortable in--my friend Bob's on C and 9th, and the Fulton, in Brooklyn near BAM. Both too far away. If this was 5 years ago, I would have been comfortable checking out a new place, but now---I could feel my hesitation. Why? Is it the cancer...the ostomy bag (which is very manageable) or just some emotional image I have of myself of not being wanted or accepted in any new place. Restless and annoyed and very hungry---finally went to a grocery store near the Film forum and got a roast beef sandwich which I ate immediately on the street, Then, after a long and for some reason circuitous walk, got the 1 at Houston and returned home. Still angry at myself for not taking the risk of getting my salad at a bar--not sure where to go from here.

Now it is Saturday morning---I have a free day today---two students whom I usually tutor are off today---so lots of choices. Currently reading Appropriate---enjoying it will finish it today---maybe a movie or a trip to the Center for Fiction in Brooklyn--this evening there is a practically all Mozart concert at Geffen Hall---you know how I love Mozart--will get the streaming in the lobby--if that is what I choose to do. But not sure....

Returning to WIlliamsburg.....

for amazing desert with my friends Clint and Kim. A really good time talking---full of energy. Then it was time for them to go---and, at around 3, I was left with choices of where to go--how to finish this trip to the neighborhood that, beween 07 and 18, I spent so much time in.

So I walked around this neighborhood, actually walked south from Metropolitan---went to South fourth and then to Berry---a new bar-restaurant now takes South fourth's place---and then south again on Berry to Broadway. Looking at it now, the next morning, I feel a sadness---with more spare time this summer should I return---and come to terms with the memories of the past. So much has changed since the bar closed in late July of 18---I have changed so much physically---not sure how will I feel about another trip back soon. Anyway, afterwards, walked over to the major bus stop, under the Marcy Street J station and took the 46 east on Broadway and then south on Malcolm x boulevard. Interesting trip---although I know that Bed-Stuy has absorbed many white gentrifiers in the last 15 years, the bus was mostly black and hispanic--I don't think anyone taking this trip would imagine Bed-Stuy as a highly gentrified area. Of course, I did not travel on the side streets---that is where most of the change has taken place. I left the bus at Fulton, and took the C to Lafayette, near BAM, and then got my much needed ice coffee from the Center for Fiction cafe, and stayed there for a while, reading Tony Kushner's very interesting play, The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide to Capitalism and Socialism, etc. My plan was to go from there to outside the Public Theater in the East Village to watch the free performace of the musical version of The Comedy of Errors, but by the time I left, my body let me know that the choices were over---it was simply time to return to the upper west side and rest for the rest of the evening.

One more memory: the subway moved very quickly on my first trip, so I decided to get off at Lorimer on the L,instead of Bedford, which was closer to the desert place. Sat down in a semi-park near Union and looked around. Felt very refreshed by the space---everyone was young, which I liked---a sharp contrast to the cold, upper west side where everyone just walks past you with very little interest. Felt like I could just stay on those benches for a long time---but of course, didn't. Moved through the almost completely rebuilt and expensive Williamsburg to my desert destiny. More to follow.

another long stretch without writing

 Why? Hard to say[--so what about now? At a turning point. Summer for you, cityboy, is almost here. That means less tutoring--more free time, and a lot of careful budgeting. So what can be done? 

Interesting weekend---Saturday saw Three Houses, the musical conceived and written completely by Dave Malloy, for the second time. Better this time---I know why I came back--an intense study of "aloneness"; but musically expansive--I am awed by how many amazing ideas are in the music.  Second time seeing it meaans one can focus more on the stage craft--lots of integral work with puppets in the musical which I did not realize before. And an amazing cast of six people. One of them, Henry S, is an actor I have known threw the years---probably since the eighties. We never worked together when I was directing, but there is some comreadeship. I had seen him after my first visit to the musical and told him I would return. After Saturday's performance we said hello--he seemed really happy that I had come back. His appreciation meant a lot to me. It is rare that a theatrical event really absorbs me---this one did. Walked back to my apartment from the theater--on 42nd and 10th, to where I live---76th and West End. Had to do it---needed solitude---a sense of my own identity---separate.

Yesterday---a little more difficult---tired but decided to visit Brooklyn---first stopping off at the Center for Fiction, then a movie at BAM. Got my ice coffee at the Center--(there are three other coffee places within the three blocks that surround BAM---is that all people do in Brooklyn--just drink coffee) but the reading room was closed---took a seat in the main room but felt cramped---tried to continue reading The Rainbow, by Lawrence, but was not happy. Soon it was time to see the movie I had come out to see. It was called Naked Acts, and was made in 96. The lead was played by a woman who at that time was a close friend of mine; she was not at this screening, but i returned to see the movie again as a way of remembering our friendship. Her performance dominated the movie--also in it was the late, great Ron Cephas Jones, just beginning his career as an actor---but the movie itself disappointed me---a little too obvious. Left a little down---stopped off at the Fulton Bar---one of the few bars that I now visit---and had a Ceasar salad--not much conversation and two tv's that were not showing baseball---and for some reason could not be changed to the channels that I wanted. Not great---but needed to do it. Restless subway ride home.

On Wednesday the librarys will be closed---so it seems like less tutoring. Will try to see at least one more play this week---take advantage of the free day. On Tuesday at Queens College, there is a play about Andrew Goodman, one of the three Civil Rights Workers killed in the summer of 64. I want very much to see it--not sure if I can make it out---there is also a foundation in his name that I should be more aware of. His name, along with the other two killed workers---James Chaney and Mickey Schwerner---has been basically forgotten by history--no schools or streets in the city named after them. How much of my imagination and 'life" can I give to this and other issues? Let's move on......

Almost June....

 can it have been that long. Stayed away. Anyway, today was quite a strange day. Woke up feeling weak---no surprise there, since yesterday I was very active. A play at the Public---three flights of stairs climbed, twice---then a walk from the beginning of Saint Marks, to my friend's bar on Avenue C and ninth---all accomplished with pretty much ease---especially since this was \only two days after my last infusion. 

But today a different story. Tired all day---not much energy.  A trip to Lincoln Center in the afternoon---just for a short time---then later in the day, around seven, a walk mostly north on Columbus Avenue. Restaurants full of people---everyone seems out---everyone seems to have plenty of money. Standing on 86 street and Columbus, or on the other blocks before that---I see the last 60 years of the upper west side before me.How many streets were considered dangerous at one point. How cheap was it to live here? Remember Jerry in The Zoo Story, conceived around 58? His rooming house was on 90th and Columbus---all poverty and craziness then. Amazing the way the upper west side ( and the city itself) has evolved. Much safter---but at what cost? 

Tomorrow, I have a ticket to a play that is part of Clubbed Thumb's annual summer season called, UsUs. A friend of mine---Ugo---is in it---have not seen him for about a year---a teriffic actor---also traveled with the Oklahoma road company---the one with the integrated cast and the low key approach. Lots of questions about that tour, more particularly about cast placement. We will see---Clubbed Thumb is a staple of what we call "Indie theater"---hope to see some of the community there as well---share some thoughts with them about Sally and Tom, the play by Susan Lori-Parks that I saw yesterday afternoon at the Public. 

Needed this output---will try to write sooner then before.

Last night....

At the Public---Joe's Pub.a Friends graduate is performing an original and autobiographical musical at that space. Nice to see him; he was very appreciative of my being there. The Pub---a strange place that we accept now---Papp believed in theater for everyone---the Pub's prices are definitely not for those operating on a small budget. But that is the way it is, nowadays---so many issues that are involved----idealism merged with seeking funds from the very successful money wise.  Enjoyed the performer-creator's work--he has great stage presence---it will be interesting to see where he goes from here, creatively on both ends. While I was there felt "hollowed out"---what does that mean. Almost did not go---this was the first weekend after an infusion and usually that first weekend finds me kind of lethargic---but by 4:00 Sunday felt the energy, and was able to find a last minute ticket on line. Subway was easy to negotiate---especially on the trip home---not a lot of people since the superbowl was on. Skipped Superbowl this year----too many commercials---endless---I even felt that watching the AFC final between Baltimore and KC.  Perhaps I have outgrown football, or I am put off by the violence in the tackling. 

A long week of tutoring begins---the same pattern---two or three hours and then returning home mostly exhausted. No "life" once I return. Remember my life pre-pandemic---lots more energy--but sometimes I forget that I was tired at times as well. While waiting for the performance to begin---tried to understand the four year passage of time since the city closed down in mid March 2020. Sometimes it is astounding that four years have gone by---I think of the summers of 21,22,23---try to place events in them from my memory---yet somehow it is hard to determine the exact summer. 

This past week read The Things They Carried--really an amazing book---O'Brien tries to bridge the gap between the sheer horror of war, and the basic vision of life, outside of war. Here in NYC we hear about the brutality of the war in Israel, but can do nothing. Return to our "priviledge". Must live with it now...

Awash with theater.....

 theater in nyc is exploding! No doubt about it--options this weekend are many but nothing compared with what options the theater going "nerd" (is that how I define myself) will have in a few weeks. But as I contemplate my choices, I also have to ask myself "where am I in all this?" Somehow the pre pandemic person I was then---who wanted to see whatever he could---has become an illusion. I am on the outside now--the times I go to see a play that has a friend or more likely, an acqaintance, in it, seems like a visit to a world I once knew--but am not that much part of now, But is that me, or that world? Am I physically so different after working with the illness for 3 years, that somehow I feel that separates me from others. In truth, my life revolves around my tutoring schedule now---I find the work very fulfilling--it is where I want to be---the kind of committment I want to make---but I come home tired--only on weekends can I travel out. Today is cold--will that limit my options further? Tonight at Dixon Place I could see what I think might be a fantastic project with puppets---but of course I would be a "stranger" there. Trying to picutre myeslf at those different places---all of a sudden something stops, and it is not clear what I want to do.

Interesting options for tomorrow (Sunday). Last chance to see Nabucco at the Met---you know my interest in early Verdi is very strong. Could see that--get out at six, and then, nextdoor, at the Walter Reade theater at 7:15 is a movie, part of the Jewish Film Festival, that I promised myself I would see. Called Delegation, apparently it is about three students from Israel who accept a trip to Poland and part of the trip is a visit to one or two of the concentration camps the Nazis established there. How do they absorb that---how does it change them? That is what the movie promises. For some reason, I, a non-religious Jew, want very much to see this film. Can I do both in one day? Or should I? At the Film Forum there is a four hour movie about the Nazi occupation of Amsterdam from 1940 to 1945--a part of me also wants to see and experience that movie---but four hours...? And when? Is there something about being a Jew in those years, living under that occupation that I want to find out for myself. 

And then what? Out of the occupation and into the football playoffs? It's there if I want it. Should be an interesting weekend...

wild night in Queens....

A  friend was appearing in a dance piece at the Chocolate Factory---a performance space where Astoria meets downtown Queens. An odd neighborhood-contrasts galore- filled with new luxury high rises and older apartment buildings---some private homes as well. Cold, cold, cold. Train did not stop at the nearest station which menat a longer walk in an area I did not know. Quiet streets---after some fumbling reached my destination. Starving---found a deli near the space---then misdirected myself on the way back to the theater. Finally returned. My sense of direction has always been strong--yet twice I found myself on the wrong street. 

The performance itself baffled me. The creator-choreographer demonstrated a cold, inarticulate world for her five dancers---some of her choreography, particularly in the first part of the piece was stunning--fascinating to look at---very original---but as the piece progressed, seemed to go nowhere with its content. I don;t mind feeling "distanced" but by the end there seemed to be no point to what it was trying to say. All the touching between the five dancers was cold and a little aggressive, but one was left with just that. Waited afterwards to say hello to my friend Lucy, one of the dancers. She was happy to see me, and we had a good if brief discussion about our lives and the piece. Can't believe that this was the first time that I had seen her in five years---the last time, ironically, when she performed in another and more interesting performance piece by the same choreographer. The memory of that last encounter---January 2019-is so vivid in my mind---how can it be so long---the pandemic intruding and literally taking away time--a dream interfering with real life.

Trip back to the subway was also strange---ended up at the subway platform of the trains that were not running that weekend---can't believe that Queensboro Plaza and Queens Plaza, where the R goes, are so far apart  A dark, strange world last night---should go back some day during the day and figure things out--finally found a shuttle bus that returned me to the R, where i needed to go A real workout for my legs---sometimes the search for the right way to go seemed endless---lost in the dark in Astoria. But the good news is that my energy was able to go with it--I think the reduction in infusion matter during my last treatment is adding to my energy. Another infusion happens on Thursday---no plans for the weekend after because  that might be when the effects of the treatment keep my energy low. But maybe not...

So now it is over....

 A terrible sense of relief! But yesterday was full of "grapples". Wanted very much to go down to my friend's bar on Avenue C and ninth, but was tired most of the day. So if not that, maybe a movie? Shot down that one as well. By 7 I realized that my energy could not support a trip to the East Village, and with some (but not much) reservation, decided to just stay home. Watched some football; listened to some music; also slept a little. Seemed to have made it through, but still, after all these years. haunted by the "myth" of a successful New Years Eve. That would be "what"? A date, or atleast a party with some friends. But it did not happen. Now, the next morning, the anxiety has all but washed away---it's over and I am a free man again. 

As far as today goes....not sure. Maybe one of the many movies that are around---or possibly just a "jaunt" to  Brooklyn---remember those trips east on Lafayette Avenue, as the bus moved from BAM to Bushwick?  There and back-is it still possible? We will see.