I was one of the many thousands of girls, in the early-mid 60’s who couldn’t stand being a “good girl.” As I was about thirteen, too young and scared to do anything about my status, this song stood in for me.

It wasn’t one of those annoying sweet songs. And I will take it over present day pop any day.

It broke boundaries. It didn’t sound like any other song. It told a story. The Shangri-Las’ were one of a kind. More like the “angry young men” in British films than the Beatles. I always was a Stones girl

It made me daydream. It made me want a bad boy so badly. That it was by girls from Long Island, not Brooklyn or some place girls were known to be bad only made it that much better.

Mary Weiss is restarting her career.

I have a CD of early 60’s death songs that has a bonus track; Leader of the Laundromat. I think that’s supposed to make a statement but I have never figured it out.

On Monday I’m having my hair dyed and highlit. For the first time in over 30 years my hair is being touched by somebody who isn’t a good friend. I think that means I’m settling in.

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And deleted the whole post by accident or not. Here’s a tribute to Dan Fogelberg. He doesn’t know this but I had him one Constant Comment, Cointreau, pot filled year. Dan Fogelberg had a voice that could sooth a weary soul and a way of playing that was sheer beauty. Guitar and piano mostly, and I think some other instruments. He died on 12/16–forgot to put that in as i’m truly crazed from paint fumes, floor fumes and construction dust.

I am the least crazy for comments blogger alive. if your blog is selling something, written in “English isn’t my fourth language but I will tell bloggers how to blog,” your comments will be deleted. It’s week eight of my apartment renovation and I had some friends, big in contracting but don’t live here, confirm some mistakes. I have to be super nice in real life. In my blog….

I haven’t been great at commenting or reading new blogs or new to me this year. I could say it’s because of the turmoil in my life and that’s true but I’m moving as I want to seriously write. New York is too pricey and has too many distractions. Honestly, and I don’t mean this in a bad way so does blogging. Maybe when I move I will find the time for everything.

I probably began listening to him as I thought he was beautiful but I stayed for the music. I did begin to find him boring, earnest–uh, I can relate. There were times I couldn’t stand to listen to him and wondered why I ever did. I went to punk clubs when I listened to him the most. I guess he was the perfect antecedent. I was also very into Noel Coward and Cole Porter. Today’s been the first time in years I have listened to him. Yes he was “soft” rock but he wasn’t Hall & Oates, two people I could never work up any nostalgia for. (See the advert for their concert or one of them at The Beacon everyday, and wonder “why, why would anybody pay? Yet I know people who would…They’re not friends of mine.)

I don’t associate him with any particular male in my life. He was somebody to listen to between the relationships. I just spent several tears of joy and sorrow hours listening and watching his vids. I put in two but really couldn’t decide. Here’s the page.+

I never put in tribute vids but this fits. “Old Tennessee” is one of my favorite songs. His voice was never purer.

auld lang syne, Dan. This is a Dan Fogelberg type of New Years Eve song. It fits my leaving New York mindframe.

I wish you all hope, happiness, good times, prosperity and most of all health in 2008.

I hope the Democratic party stops being a party of wimps and gets its act together for I know some very jaded teenagers who have stopped believing in anything. To not believe in a great future, I can’t imagine that. I was one hell of a melodramatic teenager but in my heart I believed in this country. In their hearts they don’t and ain’t nothing I can say can change that. I feel the same fears but am too old not to believe in a better tomorrow

Wow. I haven’t put my apartment on the market yet and am half suffering from seller’s remorse. At Nancy’s Wine shop, I told the owner, I assume Nancy, that I was leaving. She didn’t leave, when her company moved, as she’s single, childless and doesn’t drive. Duh. Can I make this work? And I went to the fair at Intermediate School and bought rather famous jams made from honeycombs in the Bronx for friends who will be in tomorrow. I didn’t go into look for a secondhand coat or talk to Sarita who makes incredible glasses as I have too much to do. I don’t even like fairs, but I love this one. It’s at West 77th and Columbus and open every Sunday-

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Why is Frank Rich so brilliant? I’m not for Hillary precisely because I think she could have galvinized the Democrats to lead the fight against the war. She had so much power, and she chose not to use it to pander to people….oh she makes me crazy.
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I know I’m doing the right thing in selling. The New York I love lives on in memory. Here’s a link to a performance at The Kitchen, a place I didn’t think was unique in 1979.

1979 was the year my ex bought the club I never mention by name. When I was clearing out the storage cage I found the book he wrote about the club and The Village. I’m taking that book. It contains some of my best lines, given to other people as we weren’t speaking that year. Still I’m fond of the book and find the line thing endearing.

1979 was the year I met Zachary who wasn’t named Zachary, at the club, one perfect Sunday when I went to see his friend, Lucinda, in one of her New York debuts. I wish he hadn’t done the gun to the head thing as his CD’s–a term not yet in existence in 79–live on in the Folkways collection at The Smithsonian. I know I sound cavalier when I talk about his suicide. I wish he were alive. I think he could have been a combination Steve Earle and I’m not sure–I have read him described as a “radical” and I laugh. The Zachary I knew was into making bumper stickers against the oil embargo. They’re probably still on the wall in The Grass Roots, a bar on St Marks that was a copy of The Maple Leaf in New Orleans. The Zachary I knew was manipulative, abusive and very much wanted to be loving and great.

I chose to remember the songs he would sing to me. I chose to remember the good times and there were many. I was young and even less mature. I moved in with him two days after we met. I didn’t move in with him because he was good looking but for the most primal and real of all reasons. He was that good. I knew then I was making a mistake but my body took over my mind, and so I bear some responsibility for everything that happened. I have never pretended to be a good role model.

People are wrong when they equate New York in the 70’s with despair. It had a vitality so lacking now. I could have been one of the princesses insulated against the grime and effervescence. I chose to be an uptown girl on a downtown train. I chose to work with people who hadn’t grown up with everything that I had. I chose to know people who had nowhere to go but up. I was the center of Zachary’s life but he wasn’t of mine. I had many friends and chose to spend much time with them.

Life wasn’t all about making money. People didn’t have to live in buildings filled with amenities. Yes New York was less expensive, but we didn’t have expectations of wealth, roof decks, Sub Zeros. Lucia had the tiniest most adorable studio and took in somebody we worked with who had fallen on hard times. Oh she ended up as a puta, but we didn’t know that she would go that route. The point was people looked out for each other.

I have learned from blogging that I can’t expect people to understand the life I led then. That I could be happy living with a man in a really not converted store front just off The Bowery. My friends and I were talking the other night about how the happiest we ever were was when we were making five dollars an hour. After work we would go to a grungy bar across the street and eat dinner for free. I ate many chicken wings then. Clubs, there were so many with so much incredible music. You could go to The Empire Diner and see Tom Waits play the piano at three in the morning. He was never there when I was but still….I met many people who went on to become famous, others just rich, others just regular people. There’s a bond between us I haven’t seen replicated and really can’t explain.

I can’t expect people to understand that the years after Nam were filled with much hope and promise. Those of us lucky enough to live in Manhattan with a downtown sensibility lived a life rich in people, in art, in theater, in music.

Lucia ended up managing a decorative plaster shop on Lafayette. Every night was a party. People would think it was an opening and beg to be let in. It made us laugh as we just had a couple of bottles of cheap but decent wine, some basic food, a few joints. If they agreed to get more wine sometimes we would let them.

Galleries weren’t just galleries but places where you could drink wine and mingle with many. I did meet Dr Ruth one too many times–Wiki her, I’m not in the mood. And one night was put in charge of Sylvia Miles at the club. I’m pretty sure she’s the person who it was said about “she would go to the opening of an elevator.” Think the line was “…opening of an esclatotor,” which I believe to be funnier but have been corrected so many times over the years. “no it has to be….”

I had no idea what to do with her. Didn’t know her movies. Asked her what her favorite role was and who her favorite leading man was. Figured those questions were good for an hour or three. I was right She was old, to us, burnt out, but damn if she wasn’t everywhere

The 70’s through mid 80’s were amazing years and I wouldn’t have missed a second of it.

I just divided this post into two. The second part is about all about clubs
For the month of December this blog will be a positive blog, and only look at the bright side of thing. Maybe it was cathartic to write about the unpleasant sides, but it was painful, and I’m not sure useful. That is not in anyway negating what I have written. Zachary did abuse me. The fault for that lies solely with him. I saw signs from the beginning that made me uncomfortable and told him. I didn’t go with my instincts but with my hormones and that was wrong. We did have a great first six months.

If we want “real knowledge” we will have to pay $2,770. In their dreams. But I wouldn’t mind being great at search engine optimizum for something that actually brings in money. Maybe I can take what I learn on Monday and….Sure. I wish I wasn’t so damn jaded.

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30 Rock rocked tonight. Carrie Fisher played a 50something former TV writer role model, and now the reason women like me sell perfectly luxe Manhattan apartments, save money, regularly get our hair, nails and toes done.
Alec Baldwin was the funniest he’s ever been. Too funny. This a bit embarrassing but I have the tiniest of crushes on him. As I said, a tiny crush.

It was called The Preppy Murder Case and class played a large part. Jennifer Levin’s parents were portrayed as a spoiled rich divorced “couple.” Chambers mother the working class nurse was the saint who sacrificed so her son could go to prep school. That was absurd. Everybody was a product of the times, including Chamber’s mother.

Levon Helm is one of my new life idols. To teach himself to sing again after throat cancer is pretty amazing. To sing as well as he does–tighter than ever—is both a miracle and a product of much practice. Continue Reading »

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Steven Colbert wrote Maureen Dowd’s column and he claims Frank Rich’s too.
This is the anniversary of my mom’s death and I turn back into a person tomorrow. A person who has to focus on selling an apartment and other realities of life. Will be at blogs during the week.
Can America begin to right a grievous wrong and elect a great president? Draft Gore,

Blogfriday
I have romanticized very few celebrities in my life. That’s not to say I haven’t been caught up in celebritymania, or taken men in my life and made them into celebrities in my own mind. But true celebrities: Alan Bates, Eric Clapton and James Spader. Continue Reading »

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The really rich move into 6 million dollars apartments that then require further renovation. Or buy their kids almost 7 million dollar apartments. My apartment won’t bring near a million. The journey of___steps requires three real estate appraisals. People are already giving me conflicting advice. Actually they’re all telling me to do nothing. I’m the one who thinks I have to paint and much more. My many personas are deeply conflicted. We’re into this move as we know it’s time, but we even loved Broadway on a crowded Saturday afternoon. Not enough to stay….

I can’t imagine being so desperate as to be hysterical in an airport even if I’m late for a connecting plane. On the other hand I can imagine living in a rental and feeling that my world is going to be torn from under me because the house is for sale. It’s hard for any couple with three kids to find something to buy unless they’re in the category above. I can imagined feeling unhinged because I’m from a more civilized society than the one that walks on Broadway and frequents Fairway. it’s hard to stay sane in this city even if your roots run deep here. (Ms. Gotbaum was from a more civilized society. I’m deeply rooted here.)

Here is what having a rental budget of $8,000-$10,000 a month can get you in Manhattan.

Somebody is trying to convince me that if I had just bought in the real West Village I would have been ecstatic. But almost every single straight women I know, around my age, who lived there moved already. And were the people to tell us we didn’t suffer enough on 9/11. I would have paid less for a larger apartment that would be worth a ton now. I didn’t buy there so it’s moot and I don’t need to hear it. But nobody can be quiet on the subject of Manhattan real estate.

I might begin to seriously lose my mind, just from living, breathing, and dreaming real estate. It took me a year to find this apartment. It’s perfect for somebody who loves bathrooms–two windowed ones, one large marble one with double shower stall and separate bath; one white subway tile. Oh wait, this isn’t a real estate ad…..

This blog has vowed never to be trendy, bloggy, nichey, or in anyway blog politically correct. It is the journey of a solo blogger with a few imaginary friends. Well my laptop and desktop are interactive and always named Savannah. I’m one of the few people in the building without a dog so I got me an imaginary one, Toto. Cleaner and easier.

Before this blogger journeys to a new life in a new state, she’s going to sell the furniture, but not the glass collection and Mexican pottery, so she can make a new start. Many townhouses are sold already furnished. She will ask for a credit and have the wall to wall taken out even if it’s Berber.

She wants this journey to be a total change. But she couldn’t live with another person’s furniture. Her taste is too quirky and developed. It is hard giving up the wall unit Lucia designed, but she finally can look at it and say “I will always have pictures on my screen saver.”

When she misses the hood she can always watch Law & Order–any one. She can rent some Nora Ephron movies and Music & Lyrics and just look at the scenery. Panic in Needle Park Taxi Driver and many other movies like that.

This journey is a big one. It’s going from the known and loved though complained about to the unknown, she thinks she can love. She also pictures herself in a cabin on a lake in the Sierra Nevada’s and about 20 other places. She hopes to restrain from buying for awhile. She lives in a city that was filled with renters and is now filled with owners. She has that mentality.

This blogger only knew the Northeast Corridor, much of California, and South Florida, and thought it was America. She wants to make up for that lack. Having only lived in three boroughs–mostly Manhattan, all over the North Shore of Long Island and Cambridge, her perspective is a bit off.

This journey will change that. Sometimes complete change is the only answer. To be able to reinvent herself while being her, that’s what this journey is about.
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I guess the most amazing thing about New York is that you never know who you know who knows…. He named Talking Heads, is a great artist and much more. Know his son well, though I’m way closer in age to Jamie Daiglish. We do know some people in common through my ex.

This is a new feature that my friend Jonathan began. If you’re interested in participating check out the link
The journey is the reward is a Chinese proverb I don’t believe in. Then again I’m told that patience is a virtue and someday my ship will come in. That last one makes anything sound horrid.

I’m at a crossroads and realized today that all crossroads require a deal with the devil.

I have always felt selfish for wanting. Karma was schooled into me though not in that word.

Most weeks I’m filled with the wonder of life and the wonder of the journey but this crossroad has me wanting to meet the devil and offer something of myself for the one reward I truly want.

If the journey is the reward, how come it’s taking so long?

The journey through life is amazing. I’m not denying the wonders and the beauty. I’m not denying that some of the bumps bring much excitement and some of the forks bring adventure.

But the crossroads, the true crossroads…that’s a place I have feared standing still at.

I still dare dream and maybe when I linger at the crossroads longer….

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Many of you know I think 1985 was an amazing year. Much of my life can be summed up as love, traveling, music, friends, and the beach. All my friends were still alive though the scourge was going to make its mark on one of my best friends on 10/9 when I was in Venice with my parents celebrating my mother’s birthday the next day. It was one of the last years before she became blind, and I remember the trip as perfect as I remember my trip to Britain in June despite the thirteen hour bomb scare.

I am so glad I had the opportunity to know my parents as real people not just parents. We took the trip together because we got along so well as we took other trips.

For some reason I have been thinking of Joe Cocker singing “you are so beautiful.” I’m not sure why except for the obvious–nothing about Joe Cocker is traditionally beautiful.

I never heard this version. It took place at the Apollo in 1985. Billy Preston played the piano. It was a duet with Patti Labelle who was all over the place that year with her incredible wig collection.

This made me think of two other people who were very out there that summer at Live Aid, the best concert I have ever seen on a movie screen at the Ritz. Don’t think Tina and Mick need last names or this song needs an introduction

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Closing comments. Will be home in two weeks. This is a working on book retreat.
Will return in several weeks. It will be my only post of the week except for public service announcements like the following post. Will try to make my 3WW’s light and fun like buggers in his nose

Here’s a link to my interview with Jancee Dunn
We have so much in common. She’s from Jersey. I’m from Long Island. Both home to big hair in the 80’s. Both home to rock persona’s and great bar bands.
She writes for Rolling Stone I read it. The person I call Noah used to write poetry in Rolling Stone Unlike me he’s a good poet, but and I will say this to his face I might be as good a writer. Gave writing up because when I was about nineteen he told me that I was a better writer than he was Doubt he remembers. Would never want to make him feel guilty as he’s a truly good person. He claims to read this blog. Sure. Do know he’s proud.
We were kids. Cooper has Melanie videos. He loved Melanie and Donovan, me not so much. We had a life size cut-up of Donovan. I wasn’t sure if we had an apartment or a record store.
But enough about…

Jancee was from the land of shag carpets. So was I. Now I’m in the Shag Capital, North Myrtle Beach and this is Shag week. People come from all over to listen to music and dance. They begin early in the morning and go to late at night.

Jancee was a VJ for MTV1. I watched MTV. My dad starred in a commercial for MTV that I will get out of video and onto DVD and in here. It was a pretty famous commercial at the time–regular people who watch MTV. I knew every person in the series and there wasn’t anything regular about any of them. Continue Reading »

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