Friday morning. Early-around 4. Cold in the apartment. As usual, heat is late or non existant. Heaters going full blast. Why did I never live in Brooklyn Heights? That is the question that I asked myself a few minutes ago, after visiting Brownstoner, a web site with Brooklyn real estate listings? Woudn't have made sense for,, at some point in my "adult development" to have either found a cheap apartment there, or even bought a house. Isn't that the "story" of my generation? Yet here I sit, in a cold studio on the upper west side---I how did this destiny elude me.
Begiinning second week of the "treatment", Yesterday, only one student---thought that I might be able to "do something interesting" in the evening. It almost happened. As I left the library on 145 and Amsterdam, I would not allow myself to go west to the 1 train---to make me back to the apartment. Instead, walked the 2 blocks to the A and D train---jumped on the D and took it to 42nd street---my "destination" was the NIarchos library that covers the east side of 5th between 40th street and 39 street. But I was hungry when I got off, actually ravenously so. Pret a Manger was nearby---grabbed a half chicken salad sandwich---why half? Because a "full" sandwich would have cost me over $10.00. Not happening. Enraged that it would cost so much. Instead, settled for the half and left with my stomach still asking for more. The 'more" was a chocolate chip donut---very rich---but all it did was unbalance my stomach. Strange dissonance in the body. Was this the body that, pre pandemic, easily went from Manhattan to Bushwick, then back to downtown Brooklyn and then home? I guess not.
Visited the library. Got the novel I was looking for---"Sergeant Salinger" by Jerome Charyn. I just read another novel by him, called Ravage and Son---a kaleidoscopic novel of the poor Jews and rich Jews of the lower east side at the turn of the 20th century. This one of course is Charyn's take on JD Salinger in the military service of World War II. Charyn is about 88- probably Salinger would be the same age if he was alive--maybe a little older. Also got a book about Joe Dimaggio. I need to read something to relax me and that will be it.
Long weekend ahead---coming to terms with the fact that my energy will not be what I would like it to be. The city is full of choices for the artistic minded---all running parallel to the horrors of the current administration. So where are we in this? Not sure. Constant dialogueing with my body.
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