Another Sunday morning....

 Where do we go from here? Woke up feeling strange...alone...odd dreams from the night--now having had my coffee, and wandered a bit around the upper west side, am trying to figure out what to do with the day. An interesting theater project in Brookyn at the Brick--but that is at 5; do I want to build my day around that. Bronx Doc has two documentaries that are interesting, but that means going to the Bronx--the space is located in a working class mostly black and Hispanic neighborhood---I have been there before--actually pre pandemic many times, and always had a meaningful time, but do I want to take a deep dive into the Bronx. Maybe just hit my friend's bar at 1 and immerse myself in pro football for a few hours, and figure it out from there. Or what about visiting the Center for Fiction in Brooklyn and just reading---I really like that. Yes---choice after choice---but where am I in all this?

Two play reports: Last Sunday--Our Class at CSC--a really brilliant afternoon of theater-a "holocaust" play---very strong--a great cast and a brilliantly conceived production. Very stimulating. Yesterday night,went to a production of Twelth Night at a small theater in the west village. A very focused and coherent production of the play---excellent ensemble acting---I actually thought this was a musical version of the play---it isn't---but successful nevertheless. Always would like to see a production in which Orsino and Malvolio are played by the same actor---but probably won't, But that is the great thing about Shakesepeare---it can always be explored. The theater was actually an off Broadway theater during the "first era" of off Broadway (about 55 to 67)--I remember seeing a production of Behan's The Hostage there probably during my second year at Hopkins (Christmas vacation) 

That's it for now---will try to figure things out--a very busy week ahead with many students, then infusion, then visits to theaters in Brooklyn already committed for Saturday and Sunday evening. Stay tuned.

Gather your thoughts....

 so many "voyages" in the last few days. Yesterday, a walk on a placid street in Washington Heights, followed by a documentary about summer of 65 at the Film Festival---yes, I finally made it! But am I better for it? Obsessing about getting into a film showing at the Festival sometimes is more interesting then aactually going to it  But there I was-at 7;15 last night--plenty of seats available for the semi-documentary entitled TWSD---named after the Beatles song from the early sixties. Interesting documentary--juxtaposes the Beatlle "mania" of the teen age girls as the band arrives for its August 65 visit to NY and its performances at Shea Stadium with the Watts riots in LA and the sentiment of black citizens living in Harlem at the time. Then back to three young women--all white and privieged---on their way to the Beatle concert at Shea. Interesting---though the final segment--see above---seemed to go on for too long. Still not sure what the creator of the movie--he wrote and directed it---meant by the juxtaposition of the two worlds. No talk afterwards---on the way back to my apartment, longed for someone to have a dialogue with about the movie, but this did not happen. Tomorrow is the Festival's final day---hope to see one or two movies that are showing--also hope to check out at least one George Stevens movie at the Film Forum---also tomorrow--a day off. Can I do it? Will I? Stay tuned.

Today going to see a matinee of a play at CSC. Our Class--a serious play about a group of Jews and non Jews who grew up together before World War II as friends, and how the war changed them. Long and intense--my friend Richard is one of the ensemble. He plays the oldest person in the group---I met him around 89 when he was just out of Brown---he did several readings for me, while I was doing them. Now he plays the elder. Well time moves. Had been promising myself that I would check the play out soon, and finally made the move yesterday morning when I reserved my seat. Afterwards.depending on my energy, may go to my friend's bar on Avenue C and ninth and watch football and maybe the first Met playoff game. Will have to see how I feel.

Two days off in a row---does not happen too often---then back to the "grind" which means probably no night life choices. Would like to change that...can I? 

Why So Few Entries...

 You can do better. Your trip to the Bronx actually two trips, one on a Saturday and the one to BronxScience on the next day. The Saturday trip: A voyage between 170 and 175 street off the Grand Concourse ---I area that, as the few readers of this blog my know, was all Jewish and prosperous when I was growing up. Now, all black and Hispanic ---I did not see one person on my travels who I would consider "white" Well, why was I there? I thought some sneakers at a Foot Locker located on 170 near Jerome Avenue would be cheaper then in Manhattan. Of course I was wrong---they were either as expensive or a little more. I received some "looks", like what was I doing in the neighborhood, but no problems. Subways easy to navigate. 

What am I to make of this? It was Saturday afternoon---lots of people were out. I went because I wanted to get in touch with some memories, (or some ideas of memories) of my childhood. I know it is a different neighborhood now--still trying to "bridge the gap" in my own head between my childhood and now. The next day I went to Bronx Science to play the role of "college interviewer" for six seniors. My third year of doing it-- lots of energy and good conversations. Bronx Science is located further north then where I was the day before, but still had to travel on the 4 train to its destination. Same thing--on the 4 train, I never sit--stand and look out of the door windows at that world that I once knew.

So we move on---yesterday a day all around Brooklyn---today, a body needing to recover from all the "action" of the day before. That trip---a story in itself, may be next, but not quite now. Stay tuned.

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....