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.