Friday evening,,,

 I guess the second cold weekend---stuck here in the apartment--much too cold to go outside. Both sessionns canceled today---yesterday first infusion in four weeks--feeling pretty good today-may have to make up some sleep on the weekend.Can I do something tomorrow? Can't say--never have felt sp cpld outside. 

Been following events in Minneapois as close as possible. Can't imagine what living in that city must be ilke now. Noticed the the Guthrie theater is canceling its performance tonight in solidarity with the anti-Ice moovement, but I amazed that it did not happen earlier. Last week after the senseless killing, did anyone really want to attend a performance. Are therepeople in the Twin Cities so removed from what is going on that they could disconnect from the rage ooutside. How did the actors at the Guthrie or the other small theaters in the Twin Cities (there are a lot of them) feel about performing that weekend. And yet, from the web sities that I visited they did go on. Here (NYC) the awareness is palpable, but our theaters and movie theaters seem to just vere ahead. So one is almost forced to disconnect. Each individual has their own "disconnect:" boundary. What is mine? Ballet or movie tomorrow...? Not sure.

Spent the last hoor on google maps--looked at some neighborhoods in the west Bronx that, of course, when I was growing up were all Jewish, but now are black and brown working class neighborhoods. tried to understand the seismic shift (now, almost 55 years old (at least) that occurred there. Looking at those old buidings brings out such feelings in me. I can almost see the stick ball games we played in those streets in the spring andl summer, whie waiting on saturdays for the day games at Yankee Stadium or Polo grounds to begin. Did not go, but rushed to the television to watch whatever game was on. Oh, to be eleven again, and live like a nice jewish boy on an all Jewish block in the Bronx. Too much---had to break it off. Next stop on the map, Greenpoint Brookylyn --studied Franklin Street with its bars and restaurants. A long way from working class Bronx. Here is where I belong ( I thought). Actually, I have not visited Greenpoint since the pandemic, but I know its vision--many good places to hang out, Of course, I am not that concerned that, just as the Bronx used to be Jewish, Greenpoint was for many long years, working class Poish. But who cares..? What did these people mean to me? Good adult conversation--that was my thing.  Can't wait for the weather to wram up---maybe, body permitting, I can go for a walk on those streets. A walk in the current Bronx? Not so much.

Must stop now--too many contradictions. Hope to post soon again...

when reading fails.....

 At a standstill. Returned a novel by a young writer to the library after deciding that nothing was happening in it. Gave it about 40 pages. At Lincoln Center (no tutoring today) decided to go to the "normal" library rather then the Arts one. Saw several books that I might be interested in; three of them on English history but did not take out any. Why? Too far away from reality? Too removed from what the current administration is doing and trying to find my place in that?  On the fiction shelf was the oovel, 4321, by Paul Auster. I had read it before, but I wanted to look at the first page---just to see how he began it. He mentions a Jewish man who immigrates to the US from Minsk--the grand father of one of the four protagonists in the book. It is a stunning piece of writing---captures the journey Jewish immigrant in the late 1880's.I could never write anything like that. 

Put the book down, then continued browsing, then left. Apartment being cleaned (at last---returned to the aparmtnent---tired---had to sleep-just woke up---had a dream. It took place around Labor Day 1960--In the dream, I had become a friend of Larry Kert, the original Tony of West Side Story. Around that time, he was leaving the musical---after plating Tony for abuot 3 years. This was important in the dream---at any rate, I had become a friend of his, and.maybe a few days before his last performance, had brought two other people---maybe cousins---to see the show. Afterwards, we went to the stage door of the Wintergardenk situated on 7th avenue, and easily went in and climbed to Larry's dressing room on the 3rd floor. He was very gracious, and of course, my cousins were thrilled that this was happening. Afterwards, they returned to Brooklyn (or maybe Long Island,, possibly their family had already moved there) and as the dream ended, Larry and I moved on--probably to some bar, or restaurant---I was feeling really great and then the dream ended. 

As I awoke, I tried to put it all together---actually I had met Larry Kert the year before when I mangaged to interview him right before a matinee in his dressing room in November of 58, The dream, of course, moved me up a couple of years. On Labor Day 60 I was not yet 17 and about to return from my time of being a waiter at an adult camp, where I had spent the summer. But of course, I was really aware that Larry was leaving the musical. I thought of a short story I might write around this--with the narrator being a twenty something--stilll living in the Bronx with his Jewish family, who meets Larry at a Jazz club in Manhattan and becomes his friend. In the short story, the twenty something--obviously the narrator,enjoys his friendship with Larry, but his parents and grandparents are very threatened by it and disapprove. They still see actors and the actors life as threatenin---totally different from theirs. They want him to become a teacher (he might be one aready) and marry a "nice Jewish girl" .How does the narrator negotiate this? What does he finally become. If he is in his early tweties in the story, he must be about 90 now. Who is he and how did this story come to me? Can't say--the rest of the story blocked by now. 

You try to remember what it was like being 17 in 1960, You remember the neighborhoods, the girls who lived near the Concourse, the idea that thiese neighborhoods--the ones that were mostly Jewish__would remain so until the rest of your life. 

that's is--time to move on to the real world--will report soon.

Being Alone on New Year's Eve...

Should it make any difference? It shouldn't but it does. Even at what you might call my advanced age, the idea of being alone does not make me happy. Okay, let's examine why you aee in this place. One, it is freezing outside---to go to my friend's bar on Avenue C and ninth street would be foolhardy--could never negotiate it in this weather. Think about riding the crosstown bus (14 street) after midnight. Simpy too much. Secondly, I am experiencing the "torpor" that comes from (I guess) the chemo infusions I have been getting. Have they become more potent? This morning I was full of energy---got to the library on 145th near Amsterdam in good time---taught her 3 interger division---it really helped her---very constructive--and then the "torpor" took over---already have had two naps---now my body is painless, but not a lot of energy, About 4 hours now---have to tough it out.

I think part of the problem is that tomorrow is another infusion---my first in four weeks. 4 to 5 hours at the center, then "stuck" in the apartmendt for the rest of the day. Plenty to read, and some cd's to listen to, but that day is always problematic.. Still, stuck in the aparmtment. Well, there are two Mozart concerts this weekend at te Philharmonic--that is something to look forward to--will sit in the lobby and watch the concerts on the screen that streams them.  Hope it will be possible.

It was not always thus. New Year's Eve 9-20---at La Flaca---lots of contact. Some good convesations. La Flaca was my "go to" place for this day, especially after South fourth closed in 18, Before that, I might begin at South Fourth, hop in the J around 10;30 and hit La Flaca. Sometimes it was just trying to wait things out---othertimes, meaningful. Would leave the bar at around 12:30, take the F, and then the D and then the 1 back to the apartment. Subays crowded but very safe---no issues

Ofcourse in the heady end days of 2019---who could predict the "horror" that was to come---that would change everything. That barrier which I had to cross. It will be six years in March. So much of my life has changed.  Now what? Will end this now, perhaps report on the continuum soon.

Saturday morning...

Strange morning. At 4 40 A.M. I awake with a strong feeling of hunger. I did not expect this, and I have no food in my ice box--a really focused preparation for the storm---right? Anyway, what shall I do? Wait for Fairway to open in about an hour, or get some food at the grocery store on 72nd and West End that stays open all night. I try to reason with my stomach, but the fact is, that it owns me. So I get dresses and try to make it to the four blocks. And believe it or not, I scceed. I move decently through the snow, get my cream cheese on a croissant (they had no bagels) and return to  apartment unscathed.

But since then, my body refuses to renew that energy that made it possible for me to get to the grocery store. So here I am--hopefully not another day stuck in the apartment, but not sure what kind of energy level I have and what it will allow me to do. And of course, the snow adds to the situation. During the last few weeks, I feel like my body is slower--I am more at the mercy of it. Of course, this usually happens when my day is "free"---despite this problem, I never miss or cancel a tutoring session. I have my next infusion on Thursday (yes, New Year's morning) and should discuss this with the nurses who administer the medication. Is it simply too much? How does my body deal with it?

And what of today?  what will I be "allowed" to do? Not sure...may return with information later.

The "slope"

 December 1968---trying to find myself. A friend and his wife have just moved to this strange area in Brookyn. They are always having company, so they invite me over for the evening. I am on Irving Place in Manhattan. "Take the F train" they tell me, and get off at the 7th Avenue station (this is Brooklyn, remember) then walk about 7 blocks to Garfirld Place and find their apartment. And so I do it---a journey to a strange land. ONly the second time on the F--when the train becomes an elevated and circles near Smith Street, I wonder if I am really on some surreal journey.  Finally I arrive. I know nothing about the neighborhood. But 8th avenue towards my destination is pretty deserted--those people I see walkkng on it seem very non threatening. But it is quiet and somewhat eeroie; finally I reach my destination, a brownstone on Garflield Place,between 8th Avenue and the park. My friend and his wife are paying 90 dollars a month for a large floor through. I visit wih them, then return to my apartment in Manhattan. 

I don't remember anyone referring to the immediate neighborhood as Park Slope. Did that come later. Actually soon after this journey I make several visits, not just to my friend, but I am in a therapy group that every other week meets in one of the participants house, and several members of the group live there. We are all in our early to mid twenties. The neighborhood becomes more and more familiar. Yet nobody crosses sixth avenue---everyone settles in close to the park. Two years later my ex wife and myself tell a close friend about the neighborhood---we take him there---he is enchanted and immediately moves to an aparmtne   on Berkeley Place and later buys a brownstone on Saint Johns Place between 7th and 8th. Other friends and acquaintances gravitate to the area.  Now a visit is pretty normal. By the mid seventies I am in the area a couple of times a month. Nobody dares go or taks about going to  the "other side" of Flatbush,  an almost completey Carribean neighborhood. 

My friend buys his brownsone on Saint Johns Place for about 270 thosand dollarrs. This is around 1974. In 1988, he will sell it for around 800,000 dollars. Two girl friends, sevearl mornings waking up in Park Slope and returning home, or to work. And then" nothing.

So it goes---my firsr encounter with the area---post pandemic I think I have been in "the Slope" maybe two or three times---not a lot in what will soon by six years.  By the mid eighties, people I know are living near 5th Avenue, a once dangerous area.--they are mostly the next geneation, in their twenties. It comes as no surprise to most New Yorkers that fourth Avneue has been gentrified---I even checked out a bar once on 3rd, Ah Brookyn---how you have changed. The last time I was there, I wandered west from 8th Avenue to 7th, looking at all the Brownstones, remembering the "cool" that the neighborhood once was considered as. You see it all, the nurses, social workers, actors, real estate people, all in their twenties and thirties, all thinking that the "Slope" reflected their individuality. Now a world of "what"? Complacency. acquried wealth. Leave it alone. Accept the present for what it is.

Hey, "two out of three ain't bad"

Was able to attend the Christmas assembly and the after party at Friends, yesterday---all aruund a terrific afternoon. Recognized by lots of faculty members at the Assembly---very gratifying---still, as I was sitting there, taking it all in, felt a kind of sadness for not being able to be "part of the community" more often. What to do? Is it possible, with all the tutoring that I have, to spend more time at Friends. Not really---and under what circumstsances. According to the  administration, or some part of it, I am not welcome as a worker (i.e. substitute). Still I have never received a written statement from the school that I cannot work there. Since I am always welcomed when I come back for an assembly or a play, or a reunion day, I don't feel like playing with that. That is how it stands now--can it chaStinge? Do I want it to?  At the moment, simply suspended in mid air. Still, had some great convesations at Little Rascal, the bar where the afterparty was held. Not much more to say.

So the third Friends experience was to see an off off Broadway play that a graduate of Friends was in. Closing tomorrow---I simply did not feel strong enough to go this evening. One more chance, tomorrow afternoon, though I don't think I will make it---I hate (for some reason) being at closing performances. The former student, a woman, is very talented and building a career in the city---I am sure I will have other chances to see her. I watch the cast lists on the various theater web sites like a hawk. 

Spent the "free day" mostly in the apartment, though I did get to Lincoln Center Library in the afternoon. Read, for about the third time the essay on Hamlet contained in the book by Princeton Professor Rodhe Lewis. The essay is extremely stimulating---helps me as I tty to "get at" Hamlet. Other published plays that I looked at , but none that I decided to take out. Currently reading a biography of James I of England, the King who replaced Elizabeth I. Shakespeare wrote his four major tragedies during the first years of James; reign. I should be reading other books about England while Shakespeare was writing his plays, but I have put it off somehow. What don't I want to know.

Longing to see a movie, but hard to get out in this really cold weather.  Also must obey the messages that my body gives me.  So tomorrow could be anything.

"Trapped" in my apartment...

 Sunday evening---of course--must stay in---it is freezing out. Any point in going out to a movie in this weather---impossible---have to protect myself.

Just let in a delivery person from, I guess, Amazon---they  always ring my bell---on the second floor---really did not want to respond, but it was cold out there---might have been someone from the apartment who lost his or her key---that has happened before---anyway, it moved me from reflection to "action'--even the demands it makes on my body are different. 

Anyway, what else? Attended the Friends Seminary winter play, yesterday evening--had the energy to go there---it was Hamlet---yes, believe it or not. Still some students in it whom I worked with---but basically from a social standpoint an uneventful evening. One of three activities in the next week that will mean interacting with the Friends community or at least one person from it. Some anxiety there, but yesterday was basically uneventful. How was the production of Hamlet? Well, it has given me a lot to think about---going over the play in my mind, looking at all of its contradictions. The text, even when delivered by High School students is so stimulating. Part of the duality of my life at this moment. My work is with the students at the library with who I tutor math, but at home, my memories, interests, are all about theater. Can U resolve this? Do I want to? 

Holidays approach--no real plans---will do some tutoring (many students will have vacation packets) and try to get out a bit. Some trips to Brooklyn, if possible. I have long promised myself a trip back to the apartment house I was raised in, 620 Thwaites Place in the Bronx, but have not done it yet. Like Hamlet, I hesitate. 

All for noow.