Tuesday morning....

 have just returned to Jhumpa Lahiri's book of novella's called Ubnaccustomed Earth. The writing is beautiful, so effortless, the earth is America, actually Cambridge Mass and its environs, and those unaccustomed to it are the newly arrived Indian families. The husbands are college educated and have settled in Cambridge because there are jobs in engineering and such there. The mothers, who have met their husbands through arranged marriages in India, stay home. The children are caught in the middle. They go to Ivy league colleges or thereabouts, and have good professional jobs, but....It is the final novella called Henna and Kaushik that I have been reading this morning; I have read it several times before, but it calls to me, envelopes me---really takes me in. Her sensitivity, her sense of place, her sense of a person's isolation and the opposite of it---the bonding of two people either for practical purposes or sSometimes for totally romantic purposes---this is what draws me in. 

Yesterday I took two books out of the library, one a novel, one a tell all, both of them seem negligible to me at this point, I don't even want to name them in this post. Their writing is so ordinary compared to Ms. Lahiri's 

Saturday took my first trip to Brooklyn since the pandemic and the onset of my illness. To the Navy Yard on Flushing Avenue---wow! even in the short time (17 months) that I have not been to Brooklyn I saw so many changes---mostly new luxury buildings, of course, what did I expect, but I could not believe that they could have been built this far north. No subways near the Navy Yard, where friends of mine were putting on a pop up theater afternoon. Nice to be there and see and interact with some people who were part of my community before the pandemic. But the walks in the heat! First from BAM to Flushing and Carleton--how many blocks..six or seven long ones. But then the return: in the past, I had approached the Navy Yard from the F, so I thought it would be a fairly easy walk to go back that way---but I was wrong. A long walk in the blazing heat from Carleton to downtown Brooklyn, sweating all the way, fearful of taking off my long sleeved shirt lest my ostomy bag reveal itself. Would not opt for a cab;  even as I saw one as I got near the bridge, instead, continued walking until I found the High Street station on the A line, which would bring me back to Manhattan.  All during the intense walk---with all the frustration of not being able to see a subway entrance, I thought to myself: "you are sick, and you can still do this?" Yet I pushed on, my body obeying my need to move.  Finally I returned to the apartment, amazed at the story of this trip.

So it is Tuesday morning---a day of unstructured time. Will find out how events evolve....

Thursday morning...

 Interesting day yesterday. In the early evening, I participated in an online trivia game created by the Kaslynn, who is the Assistant Head of Equality for Flatbush. She expected a bigger online comittment from the members, but in the end, it was only myself and "Miss Elias", a Jamaican grandmother and member of E4f who played. Had a great time, the liveliness that Kaslynn projected and the idea that I was really keeping all of this going, made me feel very strong. Very focused in a world that I really like. Nothng "romantic", nothing moody or reflective--just living in the moment. Very different from earlier in the day. I was in the library on 82nd and Amsterdam. There is a book that I have reading there---I don't take it out, It is called The Power Notebooks and it is by Katie Roiphe. The book is a diary-meditation, on her life, but it really focuses on her relationships with men--both permanent and fleeting. I get lost in it---why? The loneliness, the search for contact, the search for immediate contact--that gets to me. Sometimes she admits that she chooses men to sleep with whom she does not have much feeling for, ;yet she does it. Where am I in this? Somehow I see myself--the way I present myself to women---"non manipulative--forthright" as exactly the kind of man she would NOT choose to have a brief affair with. But I read on--perhaps I am attracted to the excitement I identify with her choices, or feelings. 

When I have read about fifty pages, and kept myself cool---for that is what I have really come to the library for---I replace the book on the shelf. I know that the next time I go to this library i will go right to it, but I don't want to take it home with me. On these hot days, the libraries are my only destination---I build the vision of my day around them. Today the plan (in my mind) is to go south, and spend most of my time at the Lincoln Center library---lots of books or plays or essays on Shakespeare to browse, but also I will bring the book that I am currently reading---a biography of Ethel Rosenberg---to the library and make that my essential reading focus. Quite a contrast: the musings of Katie Roiphe, played against the totally realistic life that Ethel Rosenberg lived, before she was jailed. Ethel had no time for reflection---a husband who was living pay check to pay check; two young sons that she was very comitted to taking care of--no, this was a very practical life, built around the attempt of a young couple to rise above the poverty that they were born into. 

The "poor Jews" of the twenties, thirties and forties---why does that life resonate with me--born and raised in a comfortable middle class environment---far away from the horrors of poverty. And yet I know them. What does that mean...?  Will return to this at another time.

Saturday night, between

 Schubert's Trout quintet and the end of the Met game, here I am. (Maybe also the end of the Mets). Spent the day, an extremely hot one, at two libraries: the one by Lincoln Center and the one closest to me, on Amsterdam and 82nd. Both good places to go into, just to get away from the heat, but I was able to read some of tomorrow'sTimes at the second library. Did not choose any book from either library; just could not make up my mind and did not want to commit to any one book or vision. Still have Lopate's collection of Essays and a play called Take a Giant Step, from the fifties, out. But neither interests me very much. Three books that I wanted are at different libraries,and with the heat, and my "tiredness" which I think is caused by the zeloda (chemo) pills, I did not feel like going to any of them.

Here comes the "Trout" theme from Schubert's work. How long ago did I become interested in chamber music? Probably early twenties, about the same time I was listening to as much Mozart as I could get my hands on. That would be summer of 67. A bridge from seven months sorting mail at the Post Office on 33rd street to my second social work job. Only three years from my "triumphant" last year at Hopkins. But this was so different. Confused, working nights at the Post Office so that i could audition for stage work during the day, but found myself unable to deal with that system---very few friends---most days spent reading---read Roth's When She Was Good, Malamud's The Fixer, and Kohl's non fiction book about teaching in Spanish Harlem---36 Children. Had to change my life style; wanted to be alive in the evenings---to date, interact, etc. So I made the transition, and got a job at Riverdale Children's Agency--an agency that worked with black foster children and their placements.  I liked the work--i remember two brothers, Turan and Maurice--knew them well; I wonder where they are now? Can't believe that they are adults--they are stuck in my mind as teen agers. The change worked---I was free enough to have my first serious "affair" that winter and spring. But my vision of myself as an actor had ended. 

Schubert's music is ending soon. Back to the baseball game, if it is not finished? Must get out, walk again---far too much time in the apartment and looking at this "screen".  Will report soon.

sunday evening....

not much happening---did have a nice talk with an old friend, Alvin A, today. I should have called him sooner, but the occasion of my calling him was the news of the death of Arthur French---a terrific actor---also somone who I knew a bit, but who I loved watching create roles. He instinctively could create any type of person---first saw him doing the opening monologue in Van Peebles' Aint Supposed to Die a Natural Death---a play that gets stronger in my memory as the years go by. It is a virulently anti-racist work--never received the acclimation it deserved, probably because it is much more confrontative then say, the work of August Wilson. But Arthur, there was something so pure about his acting---he was 89, but I feel such sadness at his death. 

Yesterday voyaged to the new re-done library on 5th avenue between 40th and 39th street. An amazing place---even has a snack bar on the top floor. Saw many books that I was tempted to borrow, but ended up taking out none. Why? Committed to finishing the one I am reading now---1066, about the Norman Conquest of England. Almost finished---really enjoying it--I love English history---I see so many books in the library about England's history that I could take out and absorb myself in, but is that the  direction that I want to go?  Also in that library--the five autobiographical novels of Henry Roth---I have re read two in the past couple of months; very tempted to take out one of the others---but ofcourse, I stopped myself. It did not help that I had a vicious stomach ache---I did not want to carry anything back with me to the apartment because of that. I returned to the apartment---took a nap, and the pain went away---almost washed itself away, and my body felt limitless.

Rest of the night---chill and follow the one remaining baseball game being played this evening.  Tomorrow dentist---possibly a hair cut (I need one) and the rest---all up to me. Some traveling to a different neighborhood or borough---possibly, must play it by ear, will report soon.

Strange dreams...

Yes, last night, three of them---stunned by their content. Dream one:  somethinug about a women's prison---some woman in jail for "murder"? Something violent, called to my attention. Dream 2: I am subbing in an all boys class with two floors. One of the students, around 12, seems very brusque and agitated. I separate him from another student and bring him upstairs to a smaller room. I calm him down and observe that he is okay. Then one of the students from the first floor tells me that something is happening there. I get anxious for I have left that part of the class unsupervised. I rush down, looking for trouble as the dream ends. Final dream (3) One of the younger female teachers in the school tells me she has just found an aparment in Park Slope. I know the street; there is a store, or arts venue that I know has just moved to that street---I see the street in my mind--Park Slope with its low lying brownstones. That is it! Why would I have a dream about a woman's prison. Only association that I can make is "anger"---these women in jail have rage inside them; they are trapped---and maybe that is how I feel about my current physical and emotional state. Medical limbo while I take the chemo pills for the next two months, and emotional limbo as I struggle to structure my day and wonder if I can take the risk to be away from the apartment for too long. 

Morning---hot! Going to be hot today. Yesterday I continued reading An American Type, Henry Roth's posthumus sixth novel. Great scene where Ira (the hero and protagonist) takes his wasp girl friend to meet his parents in Brownsville for Shabbas dinner. All goes well---his parents are well behaved---but afterwards he reflects on the miserable marriage that his parents are doomed to live through, and again, on the whole Jewish immigrant experience for Jews who arrived in the first part of the twentieth century  iand the ensuring struggle that shaped their lives.  Menial jobs; minimal pay--a sense of being totally defeated by life. His parents: .A man and a woman who can't stand each other, yet are locked into their destructive  relationship. Economics of the time? Definitely---but what else..? Some insight from reading this into my parents' limitations of vision---even as they were definitely one generation removed from the frightened "green horns" that Roth describes and had a comfortable relationship. What fear...what rage did they carry with them from the past, from the uncertainty of their relatives, who just arrived here,   and rage against "who"?

Have to move to the rest of the day. Come to terms with my life in "limbo". Will report soon.

Another Saturday night and....

 you know how the song goes. Yes, here I am on Saturday night, around 7:30---no appetite--a little bit scared of going to a movie--a little bit tired of listening to baseball games or going on the theater site on Facebook---definitely need a change. Have tried to contact a friend for some advice---no luck yet---at some point I will go out at least for a walk---move around---and maybe then the appetite will arrive.

Yesterday evening walked from my apartment north on Amsterdam---teaming with life int the many restaurants that I passed---to 86th street, then  south on Columbus---more restaurants, including two on 84th street, a little east of Columbus---84th street---remember when that was considered the most dangerous block in the city---sixty years ago--now lined with restaurants and middle class-upper class patrons without a care in the world. How do you process time? Many couples in these restaurants---I would say about 35 per cent older and the rest, young couples. Everyone with someone except me---process that cityboy! Actually I can accept that--not a problem---except sometimes I wonder,,,?

Took out a book of essays today from the library. First one read was from Notes of a Native Son by Baldwin. Could not put it down---great, passionate writing. A few others---one by Mary McCarthy---a little slow, and one by Adrienne Rich---revealing but I had to put it down at the park because my eyes were getting strained. May return to it next reading. Still on my "buddy", Henry Roth's last autobiographical novel. A few dull spots, but mostly interesting---a great description of an uncle--once exciting and jovial; now (late thirties) destoyed by the grind of work---a harsh counterman at an all night cafeteria (yes, they used to have them)  Roth's description gets it so right---captures so carefully the plight of the first generation poor Jew, who arrived  from eastern Europe in the early part of the 20th century, and was econmically beaten down into a harsh, ugly world. 

Could go on further but will stop here---medically moving along with my treatment---nothing new---will report soon.

All alone...with 60 minorleague baseball games,,,

 yes, that is right---I think that through the afternoon and evening, I will be able to look at 60 probably more because some are double headers) baseball games being played in "the bushes". Kept me pretty occupied yesterday and Friday---at first I thought that this would not be a productive idea, but the heat and the fact that all those games could be watched for free, clinched the deal. The result: well, some interesting games yesterday, and a sense of continuity when it comes to knowing the players who make up the teams. Will I continue if I am asked to pay. The cost for the full season is around $25.00, not really expensive, yet some part of me tells me to refuse. Too much distraction. How many hours can I go today...since there are games on from 12:00 to the evening? Can't say---but that Bowie-Erie match up sure seems interesting.

Otherwise just hanging in...completed Major Barbara by Shaw---it gets very talky in the end, but the ideas are still very strong. Must read more Shaw--when I return to the library tomorrow, will try to figure out what next play to choose. Thank heavn for the Lincoln Center Library that has re-opened; finally a place to spend a few hours in the afternoon. Still pretty empty---wonder how long that will go on. Miss the snack bar that was on the first floor; now there is a nice reading space behind the library that was not there before---but no food or drink. Have not tried it yet---too warm, but might soon. Still have not gotten to the rebuilt large library on 5th and 40th. Really want to go there---they are supposed to have really upscaled the place---the old library was very functional---I liked it---but oh, those bathrooms--the worst! That is something to look forward to---I bet that the rebuilt library has bathrooms that are truly usable. Important for me, in my current state---hope to check it out soon.

Not much else---checked out the fifth book in the autobiographical sequence of Henry Roth; this one about him as a young adult, falling in love with the woman who would become his life long partner. Taken from his manuscripts by his very talented editor, who used to hang with me in the late nineties at the All State Cafe. Have read it once a few years ago, but I enjoyed Roth's other autobiographical book in that series so much---found it so completely stimulating--that I really want to get into this one as well.

So Sunday baseball and other stuff begins---will report soon.