all alone

 as the snow closes in.  Has it begun? Yes  it has---I can see it outside my window. That means I am just here for a while. With the computer and books, lots of choices--an all day Beethoven chamber music festival, or some Met old broadcasts or---actually I think I would really like to get back to The Wars of the Roses---Dan Jones' history is clearest of all the ones I have read on the subject. Also I have Emma Smith's Shakespeare book. I have only read one of her critiques---on Much Ado About Nothing. She centers her vision on the male bonding in the play, and how that basically eliminates the women. Reads well, good points. In this book she critiques about twenty of Shakespeare's plays---should check out one or more, soon.

I have just watched the first act of Lohengrin, as it was performed at the Met in 1986. I am amazed at the grandeur and energy of Wagner's music. I have not thought about this opera for a long time. Still, watching it brought back two memories, one from 66 and the other from May of 67. The first was being at the opening night of the Met's new production of then opera in December of 66. It was directed by Wieland Wagner, the composer's grand son, who at that time was artistic director of the Bayreuth festival and was known for his spare, light driven stagings---stripped down so that the contact between the individual characters was pushed forward on the stage. Line readings were really important. The production had a center where all the action took place, surrounded by what looked like stadium seating where the chorus sang from. The chorus never moved. I liked the production---other then placing the chorus the way he did, it was pretty straightforward. Ironically enough, Wieland had died in October of that year---the opera was staged by one of his assistants--it was, to my knowledge, the only production of his that was staged in America. He was only in his late forties when he died--a really sad loss for the world of opera and for someone like me, who was fascinated by  his directing choices.

Late 1966 was not a great time for me. I had left my job with the Department of Welfare, and was trying to figure out my next move. I left because I thought I was ready to audition full time as an actor---but by December I realized that this life style did not work for me. Too many empty days---not enough structure---some part time jobs that were silly or demeaning. It was a great idea---but it just did not work. A few weeks later I became a part time worker at the Post Office--yes, believe it or not, a "great scholar" like myself reduced to sorting mail for a living. But I did not want to be supported by my parents while I looked for acting work (they would have done it---up to a point) so there it was. And it remained so for the rest of the winter and spring. I worked usually from 6 to 10, Monday through Friday--Saturdays I usually saw one or two operas at the Met or City Opera---Sunday morning I stood on line at the Met to get my standing room tickets to whatever opera I wanted to see five weeks from the time. That was how tickets were sold that year; the first at the new house; Standing Room tickets were in great demand, so it was necessary to line up hours before they went on sale at 12 P.M. Sunday. It was quite an experience---the standees who came back week after week were divided into several cliques that never talked to each other. Oh, and there was a roll call at 5A.M., Sunday morning. More on that some other time.

The other time was early May of 67. I was listening to Lohengrin at the Donell Library---very moved by the plight of the heroine of the opera Elsa. In Wagner's creation she is incredibly vulnerable---it is all in the music. I was thinking of J---a senior at Goucher college, who I had become close with my senior year at Hopkins (her freshman). Our relationship should have ended when I left---but it dragged on---or shouldI say I dragged it on. She had a boyfriend but our conversations that year (63-64) were so intense---she seemed so into my talent as a theater artist--well, I could not let go. I had written her a letter asking to visit her at Goucher  one last time---I waited for the answer, It came---a really vicious rebuke---the rage in the letter seemed almost unworldly. Of course, I did the right thing and did not go down. That was the end of our relationship---our paths crossed once as adults---nothing happened. Lohengrin brought back the memory of sitting in the library, thinking of her, linking her to Elsa's sensitivity and waiting.

53 years later (actually 53 years and six months) I am still stunned when I remember the vitriol in that letter--then remember some of the closeness we experienced three years earlier. One tries to put the memories together. Tenderness and vitriol. But since then I have experienced so much, it is fairly easy to put even memories like that in perspective. When this writing is over, I return to my private self--figure out what to read---work on just getting through this snowy night. J, like so many others, simply becomes a figure in a carpet, Who is she now? Does it matter..?  I need to return to my immediate life---finished!

Saturday afternoon....right after listenting to Fidelio...

 a broadcast from 2017 (Oh happy time!); a Saturday matinee--I actually attended the performance before that, a few days earlier. A terrific performance---what an opera! There is so much heart and passion in it, that I almost feel we are lucky that Beethoven never wrote another opera. Fidelio is enough to consider and think about.

Fidelio---memories. The first performance of Fidelio that I attended was in January of 66; the last year at the old house. I sat in the first row of the side of the Family Circle, and I had a date: Irene, a scene partner from my acting class. It was a nice afternoon for us---later we went back to my apartment to rehearse and-----but that was only part of it. The other part was discovering the opera. Experiencing for the first time the power of the first scene of the second act. Then to top off the triumph of Leanore and Florestan as they leave the prison cell, where she has just saved him, the curtain fell and the orchestra played the Leonore Overture Number 3---an affirmation of the triumph that the audience has just been witness to. The Overture is no longer played in productions---it ended at the Met when Rudolph Bing retired---playing the Overture was obviously part of his vision. But someone seeing Fidelio for the first time---well it was breathtaking! Birgit Nillsson was Leonore, James King the Florestan, and Karl Bohm, (I think) conducted. I have seen the opera at least 4 or 5 times since--but thiat afternoon in 66--it was like watching a cannon shot!

Well, Florestan is freed from prison, what about me? Am I "in prison", because of my situation. Today I felt really strong in the morning---and I did not sleep that much last night. But there is only one place in the neighborhood where one can go in, sit and read, and have coffee, and even that place, the nearby hotel, will be eliminated on Monday. Three really interesting books to read that I can't get enough of, still, I would love to be able to read them somewhere outside my apartment. I have friends with no illnesses who remain locked in their apartments---they won't take the risk---I wonder if my illness had never happened, would I be going out to Brooklyn to hang out on the open streets there? Is it possible that i could risk doing it now? I don't feel like risking anything with the bag. I suppose I just have to follow my instinct on a day by day basis.

Tonight the Met is Streaming the Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny, the Brecht-Weill opera that they presented in the late 70's I love that music---will try to hear it---and, at the same time, wqxr is presenting probably an all Beethoven concert, as they celebrate his 250th birthday. So some confict, yet the Beethoven will continue for the next few days. Finally a kind of immersion---I think that is great! Will report soon...

Wednesday early evening,,,,,

a nice sense of relaxation has come over me. It has been an interesting day. The highlight: picking up three of the books I requested that the library hold for me. There are seven books that are directly to the right of my bed, but somehow, I could not motivate myself to read any of them. So they sat there. Now these three books; already I have dove into them. Yes, I am excited that they are in my presence! Emma Smith's essays on about twenty of Shakespeare's plays;  The Purpose of Power, a dialogue with black writer Alicia Garza, and last but not least, The Wars of the Roses, by English historian, Dan Jones. Yes, I am familiar with those "wars", but reading about the twists and turns of the English crown from 1420 to 1485, always excites me. So there it is. I have already read two of Ms. Smith's essays: one on Richard II, and one on The Comedy of Errors. She makes some good points about the two plays---interesting that there are so many ways of looking at each individual Shakespeare play.  This afternoon I felt a little down after reading a little of each book---must I always be passive, instead of active, I thought, but this evening I am simply happy that they have and will add a little to my life---a life that---because of the pandemic and my illness---needs some adding to.

I had come to the library early---I thought they opened at 11, but today they opened at 12, so with a half hour to kill, I walked east past the Lincoln Center complex ( a ghost town now) and visited Target and Best Buy, a few blocks away. I had never been to a Target before---I did not realize how many things they had to sell---maybe I will return there for some inexpensive clothing. I visited Best Buy in search of an inexpensive television. Do I really want or need one? Especially with all the reading I have given myself. Still, if the city is going to shut down even more--which might mean no coffee at an indoor hotel lobby, which has become something that I enjoy---a tv might be good---at least I can watch some pro football and basketball on the free tv channels over the holiday. It's tempting and fairly reasonable for my careful budget. Well, we will take it day by day.

My brother  David, passed away last Friday--I have lots of thoughts and memories about him over the years. As time goes on, I will share them---right now let me just say that I am really happy that his memorial on facebook has received so many strong statements about just how wonderful a person and performer (let's not forget that) he was. We had great times together during my college and his high school years---going to plays and baseball games, waiting for any chorus or featured actor who had been in the original cast of West Side Story to leave the stage door of whatever musical he or she was in now, so we could talk to them. Exciting and meaningful times--I will always remember them. More as we go on---I will report soon.

Made my first move on the

 NYPL's  Grab and Go web site. It wasn't very difficult. Let's see how it plays out---maybe it will turn out more productive for me then I first T thought. And it should not be hard walking down to the library on 65th and Amsterdam, where hopefully, they will send the books. This happens at a time when financially I am a little stronger, because my state unemployment benefits for August finally kicked in. So I can buy a "greater than $1.00 book at the used book store, or, actually a fresh book at Barnes and Noble or Strand, a few blocks away. Still, getting the two books I ordered from the library is intriguing.  I wonder how long it will take until Iam notified that I can pick up one or both books.

The two books that I reserved actually have a lot in common--they both cover English history from about 1430 to 1620. The first is about a part of English history that I have read about before. It is called The Wars of the Roses---and it details the York-Lancaster feud  dominated English history between around 1420 until 1485, when Henry Tudor became king and unified the country. I have read at least one other non-fiction book about it, plus, the conflict was covered by Shakespeare in one his earliest trilogies---the Henry VI plays. These three plays, and their one play sequel---Richard III, have always fascinated me. I would love to read them now, but I actually feel that if I did, my mind would explode with possible productions in my head. Of course such productions, even on the most rudimentary level, are impossible now, but should the world of the theater return to its "pre pandemic normal", I still would be very conflicted about doing it. First of all, I "don't do theater anymore", that is, I only exist in the world of downtown and other theater as an observer. Would I be able to change that? And where would I do it?  Any open space would do---as far as getting actors, if the pre pandemic actor population still exists, it would not be difficult to find about twenty young actors who would want to take part in this. Something to think about, if nothing else. 

Oh yes, the second book on my reserve list is by a Shakespeare scbolar named Emma Smith, and in it she examines what must be about twenty of his plays. I am always interested in what Shakespeare scholars have to say about his various plays, known and not so well known---my favorite compilation of critiques of all the plays was written by a scholar named Tony Tanner---a really well thought out and sharp look at each of the 37 plays Shakespeare wrote. I would hope and expect Ms Smith's critiques to be just as interesting. Will they? We will see when the book arrives.

So my day continues, without much direction. I read yesterday on the web site of wqxr that for five days the station is immersing itself in the music of Beethoven, in honor of the 250th anniversary of his birth. Hopefully the programs will not shy away from the depth and profundity of much of his music, especially his chamber music work. I am still not sure how much I want to commit to following the programs, but it will be interesting to see what choices the station make. If they are strong ones, it should be a chance to hear some really profound music.

Where do we go from here.....

 Tuesday afternoon. Not much happening.  Completed all my tasks in the morning. Paying the month's rent; changing the ostomy bag---finished all that early, Then what? The week spreads out in front of me. Very few tasks---next doctor's appointment on Monday. It's all open. But in this environment what does that mean? Oh, how I would give anything to go to a public library and spend twenty or thirty minutes browsing or figuring out what book I wanted to borrow. But that offwon't happen any time soon. Still, there are six books sitting adjacent to my bed that interest me. But I have read none of them. Why? For some reason it is getting harder and harder to read in the apartment. I spend much more time at this computer.  The place 

where I can read, and read easily is in the coffee shop-lobby of the hotel on 77th and Broadway. But today they kept their window open and it was cold. Are there any other reading spaces that I shoud know about? Barnes and Noble has a few tables open in their nearby bookstore, but I find reading in that little coffee shop confining and depressing. So as of now---the hotel is the only one.

This afternoon---bookstore browsing. There are 4 bookstores within walking distance of my apartment, thank goodness, and even if I refuse to buy any book that excites me (staying on a tight budget) I can imagine what must be in those pages. Then I ask myself this question: "Can't I afford just one book that interests me and spend  between $13.00 and 30.00?"  The answer is always "no" Thank heaven for the used bookstore between 81st and 80st on Broadway. I have bought several books there for $1.00 that have really worked for me. This is a store that I avoided scrupulously when the library a block and a half was opened, but in a way, of course, this has become my library. "Grab and Go" does not work for me now, so every day I check out the used books selling for one dollar in the front of the store---and sometimes I find some very interesting stuff.

One book that sits innocently on the one dollar rack is Fear of Flying by Erica Jong. This was one of the hottest books of the early seventies---I can't believe that it has sat on the one dollar shelf for so long.  The  adventures of the novel's heroine, one Isadorra Wing, sum up the changes in the way women viewed and  lived sex that had taken place in the years leading up to the time of the novel. Married to a psychotherapist, but unhappily, Isadorra has several affairs during a convention, and lets the reader know about her deepest fantasies. It is actually a very well written novel---very sharp and clever---it was very big and well thought of 46 years ago. Yet there it lies in the $1.00 bin, untouched. Why? Perhaps I will buy it and give it as a present to my friend Sarah, who has been so helpful to me during the pandemic and illness. I think she would find this look into the past very interesting.

That's all for now, my search for meaning in this time continues. Will report soon.

Apartment cleaned...now what...?

Saturday late morning: a strange ennui has taken over my personality. Everything is solved, in place, next chemo session is Monday---tomorrow, follow football, but in spite of all that---can' t quite get excited about anything. I can read with pleasure and concentratrion---if I am outside the apartment. Luckily, one of the nearby hotels has indoor space which is usually pretty empty---this is where I have read Summer of 49 by David Halberstam, while sipping coffee.. Everything works, and my appreciation for baseball and for exciting pennant races---the book tells of a Yankee-Red Sox pennant race that went down to the last day---is fulfilled. Then I return to the apartment---yes, it is cleaned, and cleaned very well,-- and look at the six or so books spread out on my bed---all of which I have chosen myself---and don't want to commit my imagination to any of them.

Is it time for me to attempt to travel? How I would love to go to Brooklyn---to Williamsburg, (with Berry Street closed to traffic)  or to Cobra Club in Bushwick--or to see if the Center for Fiction finally is letting people read and have coffee (I suspect not) or further south--to Church Avenue and beyond---Cortelyou Road in Ditmas Park. But do i have the stamina to do it, under my current physical conditions? Everything starts for me so early---usually up around 5:30---that by lunch time or middle of the day, the body is tired. Should I try anyway? These streets near my apartment have become so familiar to me---even a trip to Columbus Avenue seems exotic. I stand on those streets and think of how great it would be to be in another part of the city---even in the high 140's near the library where I tutored. But then it all stops. Right now my body feels pretty 'non-risk" for want of a better description. The large Barnes and Noble bookstore some six blocks away, or the new Strand, on Columbus, may be the best I can do. We will see.

Yesterday evening, saw the first 30 minutes of The Best Years of Our Lives, a movie made in the late forties, about returning World War II vets. Very well put together; I should return to it soon, at some point. Tonight the scheduled Philharmonic broadcast has a Mozart Violin Concerto (I love those) and Brahms Symphony No 1---pure classics, but possibly just what I need. Will I commit...?

--

TThanksgiving morning on the upper west side...

 the atmosphere dank and drizzly---as if the weather knew that the live parade would be canceled. Streets not empty by any means, but lacking the energy, the sometimes overwhelming energy that one gets when the parade is just four blocks east. 

Yesterday evening, a fitful sleep, probably the best sleep I have had in days. Nothing really on the mind, that's all. The plan for today---follow the two football games that I have made (small) bets on and then see what happens. More and more coming to terms with the fact that i won't be going out to Brooklyn today. I am pretty tired anyway--so under these given medical circumstances, it might be an impossibility anyway. Tomorrow is a "big" day for me. First, early in the morning the women who cleans my apartment is coming---of course that means that I have to do my own "cleaning" first--put everything in order and clean up the mess that sits on the side of the bed that I don't sleep on. I almost feel that I have to do as much work as she does. But she really makes the place look clean and warm, for as long as I can keep it that way.. Sometimes I come back from my time outside the house, enter the apartment, and almost feel like I have come to the wrong apartment; this one is clean and livable---a really nice vibe. Was thisms really the one I left?  Tomorrow afternoon, I am scheduled to "hang out" with a friend of my sister in law Kathy. I have met him once; he seems like a good conversationalist---we are both musical theater enthusiasts, so hopefully there will be much to talk about---good conversation that is not political or about the pandemic---something really needed at this point. 

That is all for now---will report soon.