Reading Paul Auster....

 his memoir about the death (and then the life) of his father. Called, the Invention of Solitude it is a portrait of a rigid man---a man who should really never have been a parent---and its effect on his son. Of course, Auster, at that moment has incredible insight as he draws his father's l, ife---and the boundaries that his father set up to others. My own father was incredibly different, and yet the portrait resonated with me in a unique way. Why? Well I was born 4 years before Auster, so we were raised in a certain era with certain rules that were similar. Yet my father was "present"---took me on Sunday trips when I was 6 or 7; instilled in me a great love of performace---allowed me to absorb myself in it---was very comfortable with that---up to a point. Ah, but that "point". Is this where the personalities of these two incredibly different men of the era become similar. How can that be? Auster's father gave him no support as a child---could never give him praise---almost machine like in his day by day existence---an existence his wife, Auster's mother, had to endure for about 14 years. Well, it was the time. My father was thrilled when I did well--followed me closely--gave me praise when he felt I deserved it---but, on the other side of that--was quick to let me know if I had failed his vision.Even early on--when I was eleven and in the sixth grade, and did poorly on a geography test, he had no trouble letting me know his disappointment. Of course, it never occurred to him, that this imagination he had instilled in me, and was excited every time I went to the theater, would have found geography boring. Somehow, he could not make that distinction, for he was a teacher, and a test was a test ---I was "bright" so I had to do well on it. 

So one is left with more contradictions---unlike Auster's father my father was not afraid to get involved--yet like his father, he had blind spots, and if, in the course of the proceedings one "hit" those blind spots, a rigid pattern would replace all the giving. Well, they were of the same generation and the same religion--also were members of large famiilies, so maybe the undercurrents of that generation bonded them. Of course, socially they would have had no use for each other---the teacher who loved the arts and the businessman who saw money as survival. 

Now to real life--had a 'tiring" day yesterday, perhaps still dealing with the effects of the last infusion which was the past Thursday. Still, when I went out for coffee this early morning, felt good--my body telling me it wanted to move. Have a busy day today---have to thread my way through all my choices before I see my first student. Will report soon.

Return to Park Slope!

 Oh my God! Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn. I promised myself that I would leave the upper west side at any cost! So I did---started off near BAM, had a coffee and desert---then headed to Grand Army Plaza and the Central Library. Like the Niarchos Center on 5th and 40th, this library is enormous---means enormous choices for me to consider. Both these libraries overwhelm me---all my interests seem to shove threw my brain, and any real choice seems impossible. But wondered around for at least an hour---maybe more---through fiction, theater (both American and English); then upstairs to art and history--many, many choices--last room the history room---gravitated towards books about the south Bronx---same old story--disinvestment and then remarkable commitment from the community to improve. But I have heard that so many times. Still trapped in "lost" vision of the Bronx that I grew up in---the mostly Jewish, mostly white Bronx that changed around the late sixties or early seventies. Left the library---did not take anything out, then gravitated to Prospect Park West, a few blocks over. Just sat.  Observed the neighborhood---now, as everyone knows, very high priced. Remembered my adventures there in the late sixties and early to mid seventies--friends in inexpensive apartments---one or two bars---that world attracted nurses, social workers, some young actors, of course writers---an easy place to live---very laid back--people could be "cool" with one another. Saw Al of that while watching the present. And now what is this neighborhood? A warm and beautiful shrine to wealth! At least that was my perception of it. Remember the boundaries changing---nobody living west of 6th; then fifth; then------still would be lying if I did not say I enjoyed---felt safe in that calm environment. Stayed on the bench in awe for what must have been a half hour--then walked to 7th ave---turned right towards Flatbush and eventual Subway ride back to the upper west side. But needed an ice coffee---found myself near the coffee and desert shop called (I believe) Cousin John. Went in---wow! Overwhelmed by the pastry choices---never have seen so many--over consumption...? Seemed a perfect complement to the wealth of the neighborhood. Staff very pleasant---finished and walked to Flatbush and north to Bergen---took the subway home.

What to make of all this? Sitting on the bench on Prospect Park West---looking at the luxury building across the street---where was I in all this? As repulsed as I was by how homogenius the world of Park Slope had become, wasn't it also true that I could imagine myself living there comfortably? Hating the neighborhood for what it had become, yet anxious to return. A longing to integrate myself into that world. Stuck with this basic contradiction---how does it end?

Monday morning---body tired from yesterday's trip--one session in the library later in the day---return to normalcy. But can't give up that image.....

Last night....

 around 8---not sure how to spend the rest of the evening, but definitely wanted to go out.  Headed for Lincoln Center--figured that if the Geffen was closed, I woulld just walk around the grounds---maybe stop on a bench and read with the little light that was left. But for some reason I headed south---body felt much stronger then I had expected, and at Columbus Circle walked west---now at 59th and Ninth. To the south---all of Ninth avenue---should I explore....? Decided to do it and thus began my walk South on Ninth---what a circus! The only way I could describe it. Every block saturated with eating places---either bars or specialized restaurants---all at high prices---several small pizza shops as well--I guess that is where one gets ones cheap eats in the neighborhood. Streets crowded with people; most restaurants pretty full. Walked up to 51 street---sometimes checked both sides. Looking for a sports bar, that at some point I might be able to watch baseball---found one or two, but of course, did not go in---I was not hungry and no beer at this point. The Avenue is not much different then it was pre pandemic--if anything, it seems that there are more places to go into. Remember this was a Monday ---what must it be like on the weekends---so here it is---high end NYC---flourishing but only available to people with a certain amount of money---a garish playground. As the body got tired, and feeling that I had gotten enough information about the block (or blocks) I walked east to 8th avenue---quieter there and waited for the 104 to take me home---waited, actually about 15 minutes. Remember when  104's came almost every 3 minutes? Not Tany more---the bus was mostly empty, and consisted mostly of elderly people. This was a Monday and only a few shows on Broadway had performances, but even on the rest of the evenings---the 104 still runs slowly.

For the rest---sessions seem to be building---reading a lot---Sejanus, a play by Ben Johnson, Shakespeare's contemporary. Johnson writes very well and his characters are articulate, but mostly the play reads more like a treatise on governing then a drama. Narrative spread out as well. Still, I am getting a lot out of it. Should continue and finish it by today or tomorrow. More news and "adventures" to follow...

The "horror" that is Wooster Street

 Yesterday early evening. I return to the Performing Garage---certainly have not been there since the Pademic---to see a project performed by their high school summer group. From Canal east to Wooster, kind of a mess. Then Wooster and Canal to Wooster and Broome. All new luxery apartments! All of them! Remember when the space was small and barren? Well, that was practically 50 years ago---did you expect things not to change? Yes, I understand that, but somehow, walking along that street was overwhelming. Finally reached my destination---it began to rain and I was early so I stood under an awning near the theater, waiting to be admitted. And I looked South, at the street I had just walked on---I tried to envision the life or world of the street over the past 50 years. It was as if the last 50 years passed through my head. I think the first time I went to the Garage was around 78 or 79 to see one of their plays directed by Richard Schechner. The theater was building their reputation--this project had gotten good reviews---I I Iremember not being too impressed. Yes, that was the late seventies! Soho was just beginning to explode. Have seen several projects there since then---still...

Said hello to my friend Mike, who was one of the few adults in the presentation---touching base with him was the reason I was there. He was happy to see me---we talked a bit---he was surrounded by well wishers, as is usually the case, so I moved on. Just began to feel hungry---a Caeasar salad at a bar with a TV watching baseball would have been fine. So I walked north to find one---stopped at one or two and looked inside---but did not go in. Why? Since the pandemic stopped there are basically only two bar restaurants that I feel comfortable in--my friend Bob's on C and 9th, and the Fulton, in Brooklyn near BAM. Both too far away. If this was 5 years ago, I would have been comfortable checking out a new place, but now---I could feel my hesitation. Why? Is it the cancer...the ostomy bag (which is very manageable) or just some emotional image I have of myself of not being wanted or accepted in any new place. Restless and annoyed and very hungry---finally went to a grocery store near the Film forum and got a roast beef sandwich which I ate immediately on the street, Then, after a long and for some reason circuitous walk, got the 1 at Houston and returned home. Still angry at myself for not taking the risk of getting my salad at a bar--not sure where to go from here.

Now it is Saturday morning---I have a free day today---two students whom I usually tutor are off today---so lots of choices. Currently reading Appropriate---enjoying it will finish it today---maybe a movie or a trip to the Center for Fiction in Brooklyn--this evening there is a practically all Mozart concert at Geffen Hall---you know how I love Mozart--will get the streaming in the lobby--if that is what I choose to do. But not sure....

Returning to WIlliamsburg.....

for amazing desert with my friends Clint and Kim. A really good time talking---full of energy. Then it was time for them to go---and, at around 3, I was left with choices of where to go--how to finish this trip to the neighborhood that, beween 07 and 18, I spent so much time in.

So I walked around this neighborhood, actually walked south from Metropolitan---went to South fourth and then to Berry---a new bar-restaurant now takes South fourth's place---and then south again on Berry to Broadway. Looking at it now, the next morning, I feel a sadness---with more spare time this summer should I return---and come to terms with the memories of the past. So much has changed since the bar closed in late July of 18---I have changed so much physically---not sure how will I feel about another trip back soon. Anyway, afterwards, walked over to the major bus stop, under the Marcy Street J station and took the 46 east on Broadway and then south on Malcolm x boulevard. Interesting trip---although I know that Bed-Stuy has absorbed many white gentrifiers in the last 15 years, the bus was mostly black and hispanic--I don't think anyone taking this trip would imagine Bed-Stuy as a highly gentrified area. Of course, I did not travel on the side streets---that is where most of the change has taken place. I left the bus at Fulton, and took the C to Lafayette, near BAM, and then got my much needed ice coffee from the Center for Fiction cafe, and stayed there for a while, reading Tony Kushner's very interesting play, The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide to Capitalism and Socialism, etc. My plan was to go from there to outside the Public Theater in the East Village to watch the free performace of the musical version of The Comedy of Errors, but by the time I left, my body let me know that the choices were over---it was simply time to return to the upper west side and rest for the rest of the evening.

One more memory: the subway moved very quickly on my first trip, so I decided to get off at Lorimer on the L,instead of Bedford, which was closer to the desert place. Sat down in a semi-park near Union and looked around. Felt very refreshed by the space---everyone was young, which I liked---a sharp contrast to the cold, upper west side where everyone just walks past you with very little interest. Felt like I could just stay on those benches for a long time---but of course, didn't. Moved through the almost completely rebuilt and expensive Williamsburg to my desert destiny. More to follow.

another long stretch without writing

 Why? Hard to say[--so what about now? At a turning point. Summer for you, cityboy, is almost here. That means less tutoring--more free time, and a lot of careful budgeting. So what can be done? 

Interesting weekend---Saturday saw Three Houses, the musical conceived and written completely by Dave Malloy, for the second time. Better this time---I know why I came back--an intense study of "aloneness"; but musically expansive--I am awed by how many amazing ideas are in the music.  Second time seeing it meaans one can focus more on the stage craft--lots of integral work with puppets in the musical which I did not realize before. And an amazing cast of six people. One of them, Henry S, is an actor I have known threw the years---probably since the eighties. We never worked together when I was directing, but there is some comreadeship. I had seen him after my first visit to the musical and told him I would return. After Saturday's performance we said hello--he seemed really happy that I had come back. His appreciation meant a lot to me. It is rare that a theatrical event really absorbs me---this one did. Walked back to my apartment from the theater--on 42nd and 10th, to where I live---76th and West End. Had to do it---needed solitude---a sense of my own identity---separate.

Yesterday---a little more difficult---tired but decided to visit Brooklyn---first stopping off at the Center for Fiction, then a movie at BAM. Got my ice coffee at the Center--(there are three other coffee places within the three blocks that surround BAM---is that all people do in Brooklyn--just drink coffee) but the reading room was closed---took a seat in the main room but felt cramped---tried to continue reading The Rainbow, by Lawrence, but was not happy. Soon it was time to see the movie I had come out to see. It was called Naked Acts, and was made in 96. The lead was played by a woman who at that time was a close friend of mine; she was not at this screening, but i returned to see the movie again as a way of remembering our friendship. Her performance dominated the movie--also in it was the late, great Ron Cephas Jones, just beginning his career as an actor---but the movie itself disappointed me---a little too obvious. Left a little down---stopped off at the Fulton Bar---one of the few bars that I now visit---and had a Ceasar salad--not much conversation and two tv's that were not showing baseball---and for some reason could not be changed to the channels that I wanted. Not great---but needed to do it. Restless subway ride home.

On Wednesday the librarys will be closed---so it seems like less tutoring. Will try to see at least one more play this week---take advantage of the free day. On Tuesday at Queens College, there is a play about Andrew Goodman, one of the three Civil Rights Workers killed in the summer of 64. I want very much to see it--not sure if I can make it out---there is also a foundation in his name that I should be more aware of. His name, along with the other two killed workers---James Chaney and Mickey Schwerner---has been basically forgotten by history--no schools or streets in the city named after them. How much of my imagination and 'life" can I give to this and other issues? Let's move on......

Almost June....

 can it have been that long. Stayed away. Anyway, today was quite a strange day. Woke up feeling weak---no surprise there, since yesterday I was very active. A play at the Public---three flights of stairs climbed, twice---then a walk from the beginning of Saint Marks, to my friend's bar on Avenue C and ninth---all accomplished with pretty much ease---especially since this was \only two days after my last infusion. 

But today a different story. Tired all day---not much energy.  A trip to Lincoln Center in the afternoon---just for a short time---then later in the day, around seven, a walk mostly north on Columbus Avenue. Restaurants full of people---everyone seems out---everyone seems to have plenty of money. Standing on 86 street and Columbus, or on the other blocks before that---I see the last 60 years of the upper west side before me.How many streets were considered dangerous at one point. How cheap was it to live here? Remember Jerry in The Zoo Story, conceived around 58? His rooming house was on 90th and Columbus---all poverty and craziness then. Amazing the way the upper west side ( and the city itself) has evolved. Much safter---but at what cost? 

Tomorrow, I have a ticket to a play that is part of Clubbed Thumb's annual summer season called, UsUs. A friend of mine---Ugo---is in it---have not seen him for about a year---a teriffic actor---also traveled with the Oklahoma road company---the one with the integrated cast and the low key approach. Lots of questions about that tour, more particularly about cast placement. We will see---Clubbed Thumb is a staple of what we call "Indie theater"---hope to see some of the community there as well---share some thoughts with them about Sally and Tom, the play by Susan Lori-Parks that I saw yesterday afternoon at the Public. 

Needed this output---will try to write sooner then before.