Five days later...

the library remained closed through the weekend. This left me completely free for three more days---I did not expect this. Again, the irony of my "freedom" has not escaped me. I seem to have gone from one vision of my life to another. Two weeks ago,, I felt trapped by my tutoring schedule---as if it was depriving me of " a real life" But now, with the schedule "decimated", I find "real life" may have brought up two many feelings and choices that I was not ready to make. It does not help that money is tight---I challenge myself to keep all financial choices controlled. But there is something more then that. 

Thursday evening I marshalled all my energy and went off to Bushwick (actually the deeper part of Bushwick) to attend a play at the Bushwick Starr, a theater that I have been visiting and interacting with since about, 2010. Arrived early (the L train moves quickly through Brooklyn) and got a ticket--the play Rheology, was a mixture of real and imagined. A playwright, super attached to his mother, imagines her death, and what he feels will be the devastating effects of her death on his life.All the while his real mother is on stage--she is a physicist and still very vital. For the playwright, however, there is simply obsessive fear. After some dialogue back and forth, her "death" and her messages to him from wherever are simply played out. Some stunning visual effects as well as this content. A play but not a play---the audience really bought into it; I could see during the curtain call that they were extremely moved.But I felt outside of it--as deep as his feelings were, I was not taken in by the way it was presented. Maybe, in part, because it did not represent my final feelings as my own mother was dying. But that is another story. The trip to the theater and back was taxing--had to get off the L at Graham for a pizza slice because I was dying from hunger. Would have liked to hang around and explore Graham further--this would have been easy for me pre pandemic---but simply returned to the L and went home. Not sure if I was more exhausted physically or mentally--the next day I could hardly move--a day of recovery.

Assuming the library re-opens tomorrow, today is the last day of my "freedom". Pretty tired from yesterday's events--a nice party given by one of the teachers at Friends. Will simply "let it happen". Maybe a trip to the Drama Book Store, or even Center for Fiction. Not sure what energy I have. Oh well, will report soon.

Last night at FIlm Forum...

 saw Pavements, a film by Alex Ross Perry--why did I choose to see it?  One of the actors in it, I had  met several yetars ago, and it turns out another was actually a student at Friends until 8th grade---so that was a nice surprise. Tuesday evening at 8:15, did not expect much of a crowd, but space was filled, mostly, or almost completely with 20 or 30 somethings. I felt isolated--like this was definitely not my group.Had I made the wrong choice? But I had to deal with it---I set it up---chose to go----bought my ticket---so what could I do?  The movie was an exclecticl but not real exploration of a nineties group called the Pavements. Young actors, like the two that I knew, acted their older counterparts, but there were interviews with the older band members as well. A real crazy quilt--in spite of my alienation I mostly was stimulated by it--but I left before it was over--the final half hour seemed to simply run in place---repeat what was done before. Walked to the subway on Houston---headed home---"adventure" over.

Yesterday was a strange day---the library where I tutor was closed for two days, and the students that I usually schedule for that day were not able to go to the next closest library. So I was free--just what I was wishing for--but intstead of a feeling of freedom and liberation--felt confused by the lack of structure. It did not help that the infusion that I got last Thursday pulled me down---made me feel tired at certain points. Oh well, it usually takes about a week to let the infusion come down to earth..Today, even as the 145 street library remains closed, at least one student and her mother are meeting me at the library at 161 street--where Saint Nicholas merges and crosses Amsterdam. Was there on Sunday---walking on Amsterdam around there, as opposed to the upper west side where I live was like being in another country. Obviously far more diverse, frenetic dynamic---whatever.

where do we go from here? Body has changed so much in the past five years, but still fantasize the pre pandemic world I inhabited---only to have my body "remind" me that much of it can't happen. Summer is coming, so I will have more free time--lots of reading---continuing going deeper into Shakespeare and his contemporaries among other things. And then there is the government---well we will see.

So where are "we" in this?

 The city is awash in art! How great! But the administration is destroying lives, and bent on doing more. I feel overwhelmed by all the information that I received about what they want to do. But how does it effect me? 

It is like living in a double image. On Broadway near Columbia---people out and about enjoying the great spring weather. Any fear? Any pain? You can't see it, At a diner near 100th street where I stopped for some ice coffee---packed at 11 AM. And you know their prices have gone up. Are these the people suffering? If one does not know anyone laid off or deprived of work because of the startling budget cuts, does it mean it is not happening? I control my income carefully--still I want to spend money to see plays, movies, some operas, etc, Should I do this, or just enjoy reading--the most inexpensive thing I can do--and save my money for a"drastic" future. It's a line--once you cross into one world--the other becomes forgotten. To be excited about the arts, I reject the pain--I forget it. But then I ask? How could this have happened? Sometimes I think this is just a "bad dream" that ends with funding restored. Oh, if only Kamala had won---I could have my arts wonderland  And yet, plays, movie festivals, etc.want money--they are not giving anything away/ 

It is a line. Once you cross it, you forget---at least for now?

Have I "lost the thread"?

 That quote, from a one act play by Tennessee Wiliams called The Purification. I directed it my senior year at Hopkins---my final statement, you might say. Much of its intense verse comes back to me often---I can still see the whole production in my mind, at the Hopkins Barn. Felt that way this morning---sightly cut off--not sure how I want to deal with my present situation. Have movies replaced people in my life? Is that okay?

Yesterday morning---sightly advantage of no work until 4 to finally head to Brooklyn. First to my bank, which has a branch on Fulton Steeet which is the southern border of Bed-Stuy---walked on the street after my deposit---mostly black people in and out of the different stores---looks like a poverty area, but you know that in my streets in the neighborhood, brownstones are going for almost 3 million. Amazing contrast, isn't it? Stopped off at a nice coffee shop on Franklin Avenue--then took the bus west to the BAM area. A very specific goal there---to check out the new Arts Library across the street from BAM Fisher. Nicely put together with a lot of room---kind of unspecific grouping of different arts---movies, poetry, some fiction--a small shelf for plays---but actually a nice group of plays written by playwrights of color. Made me feel good since I had just completed The Exception to the Rule, a terrific play by Dave Harris, about six black teen agers serving detention. Very well written, missed the production about a year and a half ago at the Roundabout small theater. Should have a life after--but so many plays come in and out; that is New York theater now.

returned to Manhattan and went to the library to do my work. Today maybe only one student---tomorrow---Saturday possibly a few more--things are changeable there. As for my "arts participation" this weekend--a friend, whom I have not seen since the pandemic is in a play---Exiles, by James Joyce---may check it out, depending on my stamina--also this morning must embark on my journey to Spanish Harlem to the drugstore that supplies my Ostomy supplies. Tasks, tasks, they never end--will report soon.

Played out....

 A strange day----my one day off from the work that I do. Yet unable to make a complete plan---tired, yet not tired enough to simply remain in the apartment. Reading several books (Oh, how I love libraries!) all of interest yet none that I really need to keep me going. Do you want to know what they are"

Henry Roth---A Star Shines Over Mount Morris Park---growing up Jewish and poor in what is now Spanish Harlem--living with a mother and father who were married by arrangement in the "old country" and who now live in constant rage with one another yet unable to break the bond. This is the family that Roth's young protagonist grows up in and observes and tries to survive the incredible disharmony between the two. I love Roth's writing---his attempt at functioning under these family circumstances.

George Buchner---Danton's Death-a play written in the early nineteenth century about the downfall f Danton, the "hero" of the French Revolution. Quite a slog--a very sluggish translation but still hope to finish it soon.

Hari Kunzru---Blue Ruin, a novel--about as different from Roth's work as one could imagine. About a lost relationship---the narrator writes in a cold, deliberate style that is sometime arresting---I am moving through it slowly.

Shakespeare-Titus Andronicus---the next of his plays that I am re-evaluating. One of his earliest---could have been written by Marlowe? Possibly---anxious to look for phrases and images and ideas that link up with his later plays.

In addition to these four a play by a playwright of color that had a successful production post pandemic at one of the city's institutional theaters but has not been heard of since---have not begun it, and a novel by a female playwright that I have wanted to read for a long time, but having read the firsts few pages, not to sure that I want to continue. So there we are.

And so it goes---maybe, if I have the strength a movie later---time moves quickly we shall see.

At a stopping point....

 lacking passion, I guess---today the first of 4 free days---just what I wanted, but look, here I am on Friday around 7, all played out. Had planned to go to the Bushwcik Starr for a one man shw--but it looks like I am too tired. So try tomorrow--in spite of the fact that snow or rain is scheduled---feel it is important for me to  show support for that theater. They are also scheduled to have a fair of material pertaining to the black community--some books and zines etc. Might be good to get there early---see if I can have a dialogue with one or two of the people there. Can't imagine myself on the L train, coming back to Manhattan while the rain is pouring down---but---well we shall see.

Spent the morning at the Brooklyn Heights library, returning two books, including Invisible, the novel by Paul Auster that fascinates me. Third time I had read it---each time I seem more absorbed by it. I marvel at Auster;s ability to create---the depth of his imagination--can't possibly conceive of myself doing anything like that. The "absence" of self--the creation of life--how is it done? Interesting non fiction book by him at the library but could not take it out---need to dull my concentration a bit. 

Will probably stay in tonight---cold out there and feeling a little tired. I have to remember that at this point, a morning trip to Brooklyn Heights and about an hour of browsing in the library may take up all my energy for the day. So, far tomorrow---take it easy before the trip out to Bushwick---laundry and maybe a trip to Lincoln Center and the two libraries that are contained there. That should be all.  Some other interesting choices for tomorrow as well--- but ofcourse, they were conceived with the idea that I would go t Bushwick today, Did not happen---stay tuned.

Choices for today....,

must take laundry to neighborhood laundromat--then return a few hours later to pick it up. Sounds exciting doesn't it? It kind of moors me in between---cannot go far under these circumstances. Still my imagination is demanding that I stimulate it a little more.  Also have to make one credit card payment---then just wait to leave for the library and my tutoring schedule, which today could be very heavy. Working hard at that---yesterday had three students--feel that my committment to them is strong, but then when I come home I am really tired---no night life. So there we go. Only excitement is to go to web sites and consider what the President  and his cohorts are doing next, and how to deal with it. A whole other issue. Try to move on to another subject.

Hopkins is having its reunion weekend in early April--much too early in  tn my opinion. This is not my year, but I think it would be fun just to visit the campus---hang  around---on the Saturday of the Reunion. I would just dialogue with different people---students-alumni---faculty---campus workers---no real plans, just go with the flow. But can I do it. The two hotels near the campus are charging brutal prices for the weekend---don't really feel comfortable staying in people's apartments or homes with my illness issues--to find a hotel in downtown Baltimore means traveling to and from the campus--about wenty minute trip, but again, don't know how my stamina will manage it. So I am leaving it up in the air---for now. Probably a "dream deferred". (Thank you Langston Hughes). 

Speaking of Black artists, yesterday on  a theater Facebook page, I described a play by Jean Genet called The Blacks---which was a major off Broadway success in the early sixties. The white colonists of an African country summon a black group of citizens to perform a ritual play for them. The colonists who have all the control sit above and watch the blacks perform this ritual---except the colonists are all played by Black actors wearing white masks. Fantastic production which I saw in summer of 62---with Roscoe Lee Browne, Louis Gossett and Godfrey Cambridge among others. Such was the energy of the time that the play ran for over two years.  One remembers that time, totally different then now.

 

Okay time to carry the laundry to the laundromat---rest of the day to follow.