Here we are, another Saturday. So many different feelings about my "fate". On one hand I am pleased that the situation in the city and state seems to be improving, in terms of admissions and i c u treatments (less). That means, perhaps we are a little closer to some kind of "freedom" or resolve of this lockdown. I understand what my "part" is in this. Glad to play it. But the restlessness, the constriction, even with a new computer to where I can explore numerous web sites---still difficult.
It is cold in the morning---lots of wind from yesterday---the afternoon promises to be better--must get out and walk! Probably I will stay in Manhattan today, maybe a bus ride across town and then a walk on second or third avenue north to 96th street, or perhaps even further. Remember when 96th street on the east side was this brutal boundary between the rich and the poor? That is changed now---even as much as 20 years ago, I began to read about coffee shops north of 96th where the white mothers would bring their children and congregate. The first time I read this I was amazed---but that was twenty years ago.
This reminds me of a day in March 1967. I read that a jewish older man was murdered in the area near Yankee stadium in the Bronx, and that that area, which I had always seen as safe and secure, was changing rapidly---from middle class to poor. Also, that there were "patrols" on the street in response to the increase in muggings and attacks in that area, I think I was stunned when I read that---I remember calling out sick that afternoon (I was sorting mail in the post office, believe it or not) and going to the area myself. What I saw was a racially mixed area, but still sufficiently white. I don't think I did much exploring that day--- I did not notice anything that I would consider dangerous, but still, the area was changing---the Jewish population that had populated the area for so long would be leaving more and more in the coming years, And the Grand Concourse--one the "Park Avenue of the
Bronx" would be a different world.
Back to the present--have been listening a lot to Natasha and Pierre---love some of that music. The more I listen the more inventive it becomes to me. Not sure what is next, will report soon.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Thursday, April 9, 2020
getting through the day....
yes, today is kind of rough. Already took a long walk down a mostly deserted Riverside Drive. Good for the body. Took a free 104 bus back. As I said to a friend in an e mail post yesterday, no one, on these walks makes eye contact--there is a sullen, withdrawn feeling when one passes someone. A friend who is living in Chicago now, writes that in her neighborhood (upper middle class, I presume) the weather is warm, everyone is out and people are greeting each other. Not here, not by a long shot. Glad that I could take the walk, however, my lower body and legs really needed it. Now it is raining, so who can say the next time I will be out.
Received an e mail from an opera company that I follow. It had members of their company singing "Make Our Garden Grow", that amazing song from Candide, Music by Bernstein, lyrics by Richard Wilbur (the poet, the only musical that he ever participated in). Very moving, it is a beautiful song. Do you remember the first time you heard that music city boy? Try January 1, 1957. Yes, my dad and I went down to the Martin Beck theater and got last minute side orchestra tickets to Candide. What a mess of a musical it was---I remember Barbara Cook singing Glitter and be Gay, the audience cracking up, and me laughing heartily, yet I had no idea what was so funny. The musical was staged by Tyrone Guthrie and the staging was a bit outlandish--at two intervals a man in a shark dress appeared to drag Dr. Pangloss down to the bottom of the ocean and replace him with his "other side" Martin. Then the same shark appeared a few scenes later to replace Martin with the still alive Dr. Pangloss. There were some great things in it, but the book was a mess, and you could say it really had no center. I have seen other versions since---Hal Prince's one in 74, may have been the most successful---staging the musical like a hippy pageant---although this meant that the serious ending could only be suggested. Since then, so many directors have tried to enforce their vision on it.
It's tough, but hay, the music is truly beautiful.
So, the day continues. The rain seems to be letting up. So many interesting things to check out on you tube, etc. but what do i really want to see? Will continue, tomorrow.
Received an e mail from an opera company that I follow. It had members of their company singing "Make Our Garden Grow", that amazing song from Candide, Music by Bernstein, lyrics by Richard Wilbur (the poet, the only musical that he ever participated in). Very moving, it is a beautiful song. Do you remember the first time you heard that music city boy? Try January 1, 1957. Yes, my dad and I went down to the Martin Beck theater and got last minute side orchestra tickets to Candide. What a mess of a musical it was---I remember Barbara Cook singing Glitter and be Gay, the audience cracking up, and me laughing heartily, yet I had no idea what was so funny. The musical was staged by Tyrone Guthrie and the staging was a bit outlandish--at two intervals a man in a shark dress appeared to drag Dr. Pangloss down to the bottom of the ocean and replace him with his "other side" Martin. Then the same shark appeared a few scenes later to replace Martin with the still alive Dr. Pangloss. There were some great things in it, but the book was a mess, and you could say it really had no center. I have seen other versions since---Hal Prince's one in 74, may have been the most successful---staging the musical like a hippy pageant---although this meant that the serious ending could only be suggested. Since then, so many directors have tried to enforce their vision on it.
It's tough, but hay, the music is truly beautiful.
So, the day continues. The rain seems to be letting up. So many interesting things to check out on you tube, etc. but what do i really want to see? Will continue, tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
some ups and some....
downs---a strange day, fairly uneventful. I received some good news this morning. My first stimulus bonus on unemployment came through. I now have more money in the bank then I have had for a long time, and should have more. But so what..? What is there to spend it on? The city is still a dead zone. Nevertheless, it is nice that it came in. Also, returned two e mails from friends whom I was very happy to hear from. But the day went slow, and my energy was not especially high. Probably because I did not sleep well last night. Tonight...? We will see.
Less people are being admitted to the hospitals at this point, but some politicians continue to paint a brutal picture---and I don't like it. I hope at least part of this lockdown can be lifted soon.
Try a memory, city boy---try to escape into the world of the past. Does not quite work. Remember the first spring you spent in Baltimore---your freshman year at Hopkins. What do you remember. A garbage role in the spring production of Mr. Roberts (after playing a lead role in the winter play). The heat---warmer and softer than in NYC. Space---Baltimore had so much more space, so much more sky then NYC. That is what I really liked--the "softness" of the city, or the area where Hopkins was. Going out with girls from the Baltimore high schools. Sometimes I think you remember too much.
The trip to DC to see Carnival before it came to Broadway---coudn't even get a standing room. Instead my friend and I went to Arena's production of Tiger at the Gates--not very good. One of those days that were sad. The reason why we went (or at least the reason why I went) was because Saturday was a major dance, and I had no date. I remember coming home feeling very defeated.
Would like to return to DC this summer--maybe my new found money will enable me to take a longer trip then last summer (2 or 3 days instead of just one sleepover) Well, we will see...
Less people are being admitted to the hospitals at this point, but some politicians continue to paint a brutal picture---and I don't like it. I hope at least part of this lockdown can be lifted soon.
Try a memory, city boy---try to escape into the world of the past. Does not quite work. Remember the first spring you spent in Baltimore---your freshman year at Hopkins. What do you remember. A garbage role in the spring production of Mr. Roberts (after playing a lead role in the winter play). The heat---warmer and softer than in NYC. Space---Baltimore had so much more space, so much more sky then NYC. That is what I really liked--the "softness" of the city, or the area where Hopkins was. Going out with girls from the Baltimore high schools. Sometimes I think you remember too much.
The trip to DC to see Carnival before it came to Broadway---coudn't even get a standing room. Instead my friend and I went to Arena's production of Tiger at the Gates--not very good. One of those days that were sad. The reason why we went (or at least the reason why I went) was because Saturday was a major dance, and I had no date. I remember coming home feeling very defeated.
Would like to return to DC this summer--maybe my new found money will enable me to take a longer trip then last summer (2 or 3 days instead of just one sleepover) Well, we will see...
Monday, April 6, 2020
time is delivered so differently...
during the shut down. No longer do I have to be somewhere at a deliberate time, now as I look at my watch in the afternoon, it seems the more time anything takes, the better. The slower I have to move, the longer I stay out which means I come home later. Time flattens out. I have no rush to be anywhere because nothing is happening. So the more a trip or walk expands, the better.
This afternoon, I arrived at the 125th street 1 train station just as a local was pulling out. The next one: 14 minutes. Oh well, I thought, why not? Get some reading done, there is no rush. As it was I was in the middle of a really skillful short story by Somerset Maugham. Its called "The Outstation".
After a really strong passage---I stopped--looked east from the elevated tracks. And for a moment I thought: yes, I am glad the city is dead. I love the quietness--nothing frenetic--no people running up and down the streets as would be if this was a normal day. Yes, for that moment the silence, the emptiness seemed totally appropriate.
Yesterday afternoon: took the 1 to 59th street, then the A. Debated if I should get off at the first stop in Brooklyn---High Street_--and walk around Brooklyn Heights. It would be interesting to see the Heights during lockdown. But I decided not to. I would stick with the "tried and true" that is getting off at Lafayette, near the now shuttered Gotham Market, and proceeding from there. Got off, had a nice cup of coffee, sitting at one of the open squares, and headed east. Were there people on the street---some, some wearing masks, some not. Managed to walk as far as Franklin Street. There, I thought that I might take a bus that runs from Crown Heights into Flatbush, but decided that it was better simply to walk south. I walked from Fulton to Eastern Parkway, a pretty easy walk. On the way, I passed different streets, some had apartment houses on them, some had beautiful brownstones. Again, i asked myself, what was this neighborhood like while I was growing up? Were the apartment houses mostly populated by Jewish people? And the Brownstones? Who owned them? Were some rooming houses..? Growing up my parents had many friends, and I had many kid friends, but all, but a few who lived in the suburbs, lived in apartments, big and small. At the Parkway, by the Franklin Avenue station, I found a bench, sat and watched people going by. Lots of couples, some families with children--single people, joggers--no one whom I knew, so there was no conversation, but I thought-well my observations have become conversation---that is all there is now.
So it ended and I returned home.
This afternoon, I arrived at the 125th street 1 train station just as a local was pulling out. The next one: 14 minutes. Oh well, I thought, why not? Get some reading done, there is no rush. As it was I was in the middle of a really skillful short story by Somerset Maugham. Its called "The Outstation".
After a really strong passage---I stopped--looked east from the elevated tracks. And for a moment I thought: yes, I am glad the city is dead. I love the quietness--nothing frenetic--no people running up and down the streets as would be if this was a normal day. Yes, for that moment the silence, the emptiness seemed totally appropriate.
Yesterday afternoon: took the 1 to 59th street, then the A. Debated if I should get off at the first stop in Brooklyn---High Street_--and walk around Brooklyn Heights. It would be interesting to see the Heights during lockdown. But I decided not to. I would stick with the "tried and true" that is getting off at Lafayette, near the now shuttered Gotham Market, and proceeding from there. Got off, had a nice cup of coffee, sitting at one of the open squares, and headed east. Were there people on the street---some, some wearing masks, some not. Managed to walk as far as Franklin Street. There, I thought that I might take a bus that runs from Crown Heights into Flatbush, but decided that it was better simply to walk south. I walked from Fulton to Eastern Parkway, a pretty easy walk. On the way, I passed different streets, some had apartment houses on them, some had beautiful brownstones. Again, i asked myself, what was this neighborhood like while I was growing up? Were the apartment houses mostly populated by Jewish people? And the Brownstones? Who owned them? Were some rooming houses..? Growing up my parents had many friends, and I had many kid friends, but all, but a few who lived in the suburbs, lived in apartments, big and small. At the Parkway, by the Franklin Avenue station, I found a bench, sat and watched people going by. Lots of couples, some families with children--single people, joggers--no one whom I knew, so there was no conversation, but I thought-well my observations have become conversation---that is all there is now.
So it ended and I returned home.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Okay, city boy---deliver it....
Sunday early evening----have returned to the apartment after trip to Brooklyn. Interesting how I feel. Like an eight year old child who has lots of treasures in his room---his parents are in another part of the house, so he has permission to turn his room into whatever he wants it to be? Is this right? The virus has---i don't know. Do I really wish the solitude of the evening---call a friend..? Not sure.
Two trips. yesterday, the 79th street crosstown to Lexington, then south on Lexington to Third then by the 50;s far east to Sutton Place,. My friend, the actor Jamie Sanchez has an apartment in that area---I was hoping to run into him---I did not. Still, the trip was interesting---constantly observing the juxtaposition between the older tenement and apartment buildings---brownstones as well, and the new luxury monoliths that are all over the area. Sometimes I look at the remaining tenements and to me they seem like helpless children---its only a matter of time before they are replaced by a high rise. Although with all the money that has been lost because of the virus--one wonders how many of the luxury places will have offers. The rich has lost money too (I guess). At any rate, back to third up to 34th and then a brief stay at the pedestrian walk place that begins on 34th and Park, and continues south on Park to 28th street. I did not go all the way--I was tired so at 34th determined that I should take a crosstown bus to 7th Avenue and then the train home.
This afternoon, somewhat hesitant about taking the subway all the way into Brooklyn. I should not have been--it was no sweat. Began (as usual) at Fulton near BAM, and then walked east to Franklin Avenue---then south on Franklin to Eastern Parkway. A good strong walk, then I found a bench on the parkway and read and observed for about 40 minutes. A nice short story by Elizabeth Parsons called "And the Nightingale Sings". But every few paragraphs I would just stop and watch the couples, joggers, single people walking by. Considering the virus, that spot was great for people watching---lots of people moving north-south or east-west--all observing social distancing.
As I sat there, the novel in my mind takes place. When I was growing up, the area was mostly Jewish middle class, a mirror image of my neighborhood in the Bronx. Then they were replaced
by the black community, and for the last 15 years, the young professionals, mostly white have returned. I tried to understand the whole thing---but how do you put it into words? Who would the characters be. Why would a 70 something man be returning to the neighborhood. What would he want? Lots of feelings as I sat there---can the imagination be corralled into something concrete.
Do I want to?
Lets leave it there---and see what happens tomorrow...
Two trips. yesterday, the 79th street crosstown to Lexington, then south on Lexington to Third then by the 50;s far east to Sutton Place,. My friend, the actor Jamie Sanchez has an apartment in that area---I was hoping to run into him---I did not. Still, the trip was interesting---constantly observing the juxtaposition between the older tenement and apartment buildings---brownstones as well, and the new luxury monoliths that are all over the area. Sometimes I look at the remaining tenements and to me they seem like helpless children---its only a matter of time before they are replaced by a high rise. Although with all the money that has been lost because of the virus--one wonders how many of the luxury places will have offers. The rich has lost money too (I guess). At any rate, back to third up to 34th and then a brief stay at the pedestrian walk place that begins on 34th and Park, and continues south on Park to 28th street. I did not go all the way--I was tired so at 34th determined that I should take a crosstown bus to 7th Avenue and then the train home.
This afternoon, somewhat hesitant about taking the subway all the way into Brooklyn. I should not have been--it was no sweat. Began (as usual) at Fulton near BAM, and then walked east to Franklin Avenue---then south on Franklin to Eastern Parkway. A good strong walk, then I found a bench on the parkway and read and observed for about 40 minutes. A nice short story by Elizabeth Parsons called "And the Nightingale Sings". But every few paragraphs I would just stop and watch the couples, joggers, single people walking by. Considering the virus, that spot was great for people watching---lots of people moving north-south or east-west--all observing social distancing.
As I sat there, the novel in my mind takes place. When I was growing up, the area was mostly Jewish middle class, a mirror image of my neighborhood in the Bronx. Then they were replaced
by the black community, and for the last 15 years, the young professionals, mostly white have returned. I tried to understand the whole thing---but how do you put it into words? Who would the characters be. Why would a 70 something man be returning to the neighborhood. What would he want? Lots of feelings as I sat there---can the imagination be corralled into something concrete.
Do I want to?
Lets leave it there---and see what happens tomorrow...
Saturday, April 4, 2020
Saturday morning...
the beginning of a long day. Already have heard on you tube the final scene from Yeoman of the Guard and Opening Doors. Sondheim and Sullivan---quite a group! Now what? All the music in the world...all the classical music that I have wanted to check out for a while, but could not because my dvd player was broken, is at my fingertips. But so what? I am still here in one place. Something artificial about that. In the hospitals, dedicated people risking their lives---in the apartments, trying to cope.
So what is the plan? I would like to hear at least the beginning of the broadcast of Orfeo this afternoon on the Metropolitan Opera playbacks. The music has always interested me, but I have never really had chance to listen carefully to it. After that---have to get out---to where---is it too risky to try to get to Brooklyn? Not sure. Can go to the open space that the city has provided on Park Avenue between 34th and 28th street. I wonder if it will be more populated then last Friday. But must go, or be, somewhere.
Last night read all of Auster's short novel The Locked Room. Really a compelling and remarkable work. A writer leading a "normal" if somewhat isolated life in NYC (that is how all of Auster's heroes seem to begin) is asked by the wife of his former best friend to catalogue the best friend's writing. This guy, named Fanshawe, has simply disappeared, leaving his wife and infant behind.
Thus begins the narrator's adventure, as he slowly takes over, or becomes obsessed with the writing and identity of Fanshawe. Lots of ideas about doubling, or one personalty being absorbed into another. Could not put it down, even if I was getting tired towards the end. It was intense.
Is that all? Well, for now, yes--maybe some memories tomorrow---since yesterday's post I have started a post on the Facebook page for growing up in the Bronx, 40's, 50's, 60's. The post, which was about the difference between a trip to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yankees and a trip to the Polo Grounds to watch the Giants got about 8 replies. Very good. I added a postscript this morning, so we will see how that goes. Anyway, should report tomorrow.
So what is the plan? I would like to hear at least the beginning of the broadcast of Orfeo this afternoon on the Metropolitan Opera playbacks. The music has always interested me, but I have never really had chance to listen carefully to it. After that---have to get out---to where---is it too risky to try to get to Brooklyn? Not sure. Can go to the open space that the city has provided on Park Avenue between 34th and 28th street. I wonder if it will be more populated then last Friday. But must go, or be, somewhere.
Last night read all of Auster's short novel The Locked Room. Really a compelling and remarkable work. A writer leading a "normal" if somewhat isolated life in NYC (that is how all of Auster's heroes seem to begin) is asked by the wife of his former best friend to catalogue the best friend's writing. This guy, named Fanshawe, has simply disappeared, leaving his wife and infant behind.
Thus begins the narrator's adventure, as he slowly takes over, or becomes obsessed with the writing and identity of Fanshawe. Lots of ideas about doubling, or one personalty being absorbed into another. Could not put it down, even if I was getting tired towards the end. It was intense.
Is that all? Well, for now, yes--maybe some memories tomorrow---since yesterday's post I have started a post on the Facebook page for growing up in the Bronx, 40's, 50's, 60's. The post, which was about the difference between a trip to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yankees and a trip to the Polo Grounds to watch the Giants got about 8 replies. Very good. I added a postscript this morning, so we will see how that goes. Anyway, should report tomorrow.
Friday, April 3, 2020
to begin again...
Am I ready to begin again. Now the computer is in my home---truly part of my life. A totally different reality, in that I can go to it any time---find any web site that I wish, ad infinitum. Up to Tuesday, being stuck mostly in the apartment meant I had two choices: to read or to call or text friends. Very simple. In between that was simply contemplation---a silence--almost a voyage between the two choices. Now comes the computer--the third choice. Well, it is mine now, and I better deal with it. So what does that mean about putting things down here.
Just finished the first Paul Auster novel, City of Glass--kind of fascinating if a bit opaque, but that is probably what he wants. As is usual in Auster, there are shifting points of view, realities that lead to other realities and also a lot of "doubles" ,that is people who morph at times into other people.
So where to begin? Should I create memories on this blog, or talk about the present. Last night I was able to find an hour film about the making of West Side Story---it covered a lot of ground that I already knew, but I always get a kick out of listening to the interviews of some in the original cast, or hearing the endless anecdotes about Bernstein, Robbins etc. Also have played "opening doors" my favorite Sondheim, from Merrily We Roll Along, several times---it brings me much happiness. Merrily in some ways for me echoes West Side Story---don't ask me to explain the links, but in some ways it does. Even Merrily's overture---a truly brilliant piece by itself--seems to echo the West Side Story overture.
Also yesterday, I took a walk---from 76th and West End to 119th and Broadway. A long walk, but my body really loves doing it. During this lockdown, it is important to me to leave the apartment, unless the weather is really bad. Not sure about today---the weather is "grimy', but definitely tomorrow and Sunday---possibly I will end up in Brooklyn again.
But that remains to be seen. Will stop now---and try to keep going most days.
Just finished the first Paul Auster novel, City of Glass--kind of fascinating if a bit opaque, but that is probably what he wants. As is usual in Auster, there are shifting points of view, realities that lead to other realities and also a lot of "doubles" ,that is people who morph at times into other people.
So where to begin? Should I create memories on this blog, or talk about the present. Last night I was able to find an hour film about the making of West Side Story---it covered a lot of ground that I already knew, but I always get a kick out of listening to the interviews of some in the original cast, or hearing the endless anecdotes about Bernstein, Robbins etc. Also have played "opening doors" my favorite Sondheim, from Merrily We Roll Along, several times---it brings me much happiness. Merrily in some ways for me echoes West Side Story---don't ask me to explain the links, but in some ways it does. Even Merrily's overture---a truly brilliant piece by itself--seems to echo the West Side Story overture.
Also yesterday, I took a walk---from 76th and West End to 119th and Broadway. A long walk, but my body really loves doing it. During this lockdown, it is important to me to leave the apartment, unless the weather is really bad. Not sure about today---the weather is "grimy', but definitely tomorrow and Sunday---possibly I will end up in Brooklyn again.
But that remains to be seen. Will stop now---and try to keep going most days.
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