so we cintinue....

3 free days---not great results. Yesterday went to Film Foruum,  bought a ticket to Natchez, the documentary---was gone in less then an hour. Why? Checked my osstmy bag right before sitting down---no issues, but soon after felt the swelling--had to return to bathroom to check it out after 15 minutes--but mens room was packed---another one of the four screens had lef out--so I returned---hoped for the best---not sitting near anyone so there would be no issue---but the movie---for all its god intentions, bored me. Took another shot at the mens room; this time empty, and yes, discovered that in a very short time, the bag had almost exploded. Did my work---felt no desire to return to the movie---so just headed home. A possible "disaster" had been averted---better to be back in the apartment. The whole thing left me very turned off on movies in general. Is it me--my own detachment---or the movie? No movie today--the extra weekend day.

A former student at Friends is in a play in Brooklyn---I had hoped to go---but with two hours to go it is not happening. Tried to take it easy in the morning--save my energy for the trip to the theater that is situated  on the Clinton Hill--Bedford Stuyvesant border, but the energy is just not there. Have some other performance options---actuallly not too many---but this begs the bigger question: will my body, at this point, allow me to make this trip? After a nap or a sleep at night, I feel very stiff---not hard to walk around the apartment and do what needs to be done---but to move from there to another area---don't know. It is around 5 and ahalf years since I was diagnosed, and in that time I have been to Brooklyn and its theaters many times, without any issues. But this is different. The Bushwick Starr---my favorite and most meaningful Brookyn theater has a play running there now---feel I should definitely go--- but when? Tutoring is busy--those days are eliminated---and then there are days like these---new, of course---but when the body just tells me it can't make it. Returning from Barnes and Noble, earlier, I asked mysef if this was going to be the new "normal" that is, less travel, more reading, less seeing plays or movies.I listen to me body---follow its leads---but I had hoped for more strength---particularly as the days are getting warmer.  

So what now? Finsih the "holiday" this evening, then gear into at least three days of work. No matter hoow the body is, have no trouble arriving at the library or giving 100 percent during the lessons. So let that happen, and see where te rest of the "chips" fall.

Thursday evening--reading the novel...

 The Namesake, the remarkable novel by Jhumpa Lihari. Really gets me involved. No work today---by design, but this is not the "rest" I would have hoped for. Wanted to move OUT---but my body dissappointed. Actually left the apartment this moorning at 5, because I was starving, and could not wait for Fairway to open at 6. So it's the corner grocery on 72nd and West End---braved the cold going south, not too bad, but returning to the apartment felt brutal gusts of wind in my face. Had to fight my way through it---took a lot of determination-but I did it. No food in the apartment again now---poor planning on my part---am hoping no appetite changes until the morning. Should hunger come---? Well, who's to say?

I stay in so much more now--is it my energy or is it simply the cold? For three days this week, my energy was low--but still accomplished my lessons. Today I had hoped for my energy---enough perhaps to take me to a movie or play---but it did not happen. After my return from the grocery I got very tired, and for the rest of the day, enrgy has been an issue. Will this get better as the temperature rises? Would  love to go to  Broooklyn or some place that is not upperwest side. Holiday approaches--an extra day---some possibilities.

Soo this is where I stand now. After so many months of chemo, will it really slow down my body? Hard to say---need to slow down---give it some time. Feel a tremendous need for ogange juice, perhaps should go out now.

Friday evening,,,

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