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.
•••••••••••••••••

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.

First however, this the first article I have read on the economy that makes real sense. Scary, very scary. And I do, or did understand money. The stock market afforded me a nice life. When I sell my apartment, I’m going to go for safety. Maybe a bit risk, but just a bit…
Blogger is totally undermining the concept of the blogosphere as one large community. I’m Google obsessed but might rethink that. I’m the top Google search for too many things. I don’t say that proudly. I’m not an expert on Klonopin and cigarettes.

I’m not an expert on many things I can be found at the top of Google searches for. Or The Times or CNN. My friend got tickets for an all day seminar on how to make money off the Internet and be the top search. That costs $25.

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.

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.

Robert Chambers is going back to jail for a long tim. He should have been serving life for the very brutal horrible death of Jennifer Levin in 1986. The trail became about her morals. Her life. Yes barely eighteen year old recent High School grad was put on trial. She was a loose Jewish woman. Chambers had the Church on his side. In New York there’s only one Church, and almost all my friends are Catholic, Roman, practicing or not. This in no way puts down the people but the leadership…Chambers mother had Cardinal O Connor involved.

This insulted Jennifer Levin and all women especially Jewish New York woman. They said we were loose, and tried to excuse Chambers behavior. He’s an animal, a brute one and that has been proven over and over again in the past 21 years. The case was personal and very easy for any woman with any past to relate to.

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. Read more…

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. Read more…

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.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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….

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yd60nI4sa9A]

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.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsdkGHX9Vqo]

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
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnJBlqoW1z0]

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. Read more...

Summers that end in Seven always signify new beginnings to me–67, well I won’t talk about that here. 77, Summer of Sam, summer of six weeks in Europe, come to home to a six week temp job that began in October and ended…10 years later October, 87, interviewed for new jobs. Shearson Lehman opened a job for me on Black Tuesday, October, of course. 97–circled many coop ads, 20something on my birthday. Seven brokers got back to me.

“Please if there is a god, let this be the apartment,” I remember thinking as I entered my building’s lobby. The apartment was even better. Closed on 10/1, coincidentally the first night of the Jewish New Year. Would take a sleeping bag and sleep in the closet until I actually moved in two months later.

Summers with Seven make me feel anticipation. Seven should be my lucky number. It’s not.

Summers with Seven have a definite edge. They live on way past the end.

Summers with Seven have a sweet forlorn beauty. They make me yearn for somethings new, as I hang onto the wonder of the present.

People get New York in the summer of 77 all wrong. It was the cusp of new beginnings. So was I. Made myself remember the events and the nuances. I began looking back to it before it ever ended. Geneva was a different world than New York. Geneva made me into a girl who could throw the best parties. They had them there.

77 will always be a watershed wonderful summer for those of us not affected by the affects of the black out. Yes there was Sam but really what were the odds? We did live in quasi fear probably brought on by our parents who most likely wished they could order us somewhere else.

Mine paid for a six week trip. True I stayed with friends, and a few bed & breakfast type places, but air fare was much more. As I was working for my parents I could take the time.

Spike Lee got 77 right. The only one to do so. It wasn’t my New York then. Mine was the New York of privilege. It embarrassed me, an emotion I know people today can’t relate to.

In the fall I was to take a job where for the first time since I was a kid I was going to come into en masse contact with children of the boroughs. Somehow I felt a part of me had come home.

I have always wondered if that was a deficit. If I was hiding from my identity. Scared of potential, I didn’t want to know I had. Or if I was searching for other worlds in the city of my birth.

real real gone…
I can’t stand up by myself
Some people say you can
make it on your own
You can make it if you try
I know better now
•••••••••••••
in the youth of a thousand summers
like a sweet bird of youth
in my soul
••••••••••••••••••••••••
memories of summer days
so long ago, people and places
that we used to go
oh, those memories
all I have now is memories

Van Morrison should be winter. But he’s all seasons. In the summer of 77 I went to Max’s,
CBGB’s, Upper East Side fern bars otherwise known as restaurants where you drank too much, picked up strangers and sometimes took them home. Sometimes you got to see cable in the morning. Reuter’s news flashing, ‘NEW playing in the background. All these years and I never realized what the call letters meant. Began in the summer of 67 I believe. All album sides.

Summers with Seven always bring something wonderful. I’m a sucker for summers with Seven. The unimaginable becomes reality. This damn well better stick to the pattern. I believe in the power of a summer with a Seven.

a href="http://fridayflashback.blogspot.com">
The explosion happened on the East Side near Grand Central. I live on the Upper West Side

I have been getting many spam birthday cards. Least I think they are as they all say “a friend….” No name. Weird, very weird

The first letter was written by my Dad. I was a sulky, despondent teenager without a good word to say about anybody or anything. On the other hand, I cared passionately about causes and was cute

Though not as cute as I was in my father’s famous to some letter upon adopting me. As you can see he was a bit more enthused in the second letter.

Though later I would proudly call my parents my friends.

I never called him “Pa” in my life. Loved to call my mother “Ma.” It made her crazy. And at least 40 women would turn when I called her that in a store.

I tried to write a letter to my Dad to tell him about the world now. So much has happened. He thought he would become hooked on computers. Instead….He knew the economy was moving from a service to a communication one. That excited him, but he felt too old to learn it.

Then, everything else…Felt too gimmicky for my blog. No I won’t write a personal one here. There are many parts of my life my parents never knew about, and truthfully, after they died I sometimes wondered if dead people could see certain things. The thought was repugnant.

The third thing is the song that was number one on 7/19/60. Think it’s way appropriate for my birthday. I was in Oaxaca Mexico the summer this letter was written. My father never sent it to me. Or I don’t remember. He kept copies of everything. No he never gave it to me. I would have remembered “perhaps college.” College was a given, never an option.

Oh I love it.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
July 16

Happy Birthday dear Pia

Wishing you a happy 16th year—not only on July 19th but for the whole year—and always.

Tradition has it that the 16th birthday is a sort of milestone in a young girl’s road of live. I suppose it is so. We are both very happy for you–and for us because you are a lovely girl.

The past 16 years have been very good for our family. We had good health, enjoyed many things and had good times together. Of course there were disagreements between us–but looking back, they were minor and unimportant–part of all of us growing up.

Mom and I love you very much and are very proud to be your parents. You have brought us much happiness–and are looking forward to the next 16 years. W have tried to direct and give you the experiences which we thought would better prepare you for this kind of world

We know that you are kind, gentle and have a good heart–and we love you for it

Fortified with this kind of character we are expecting a beautiful future for you.

You were a pretty baby, a good baby and a happy baby. You gave us so much pleasure watching you grow to a beautiful lady…..graduating from high school, then perhaps college, than along the way–marriage then children. Of course there will be pebbles, rocks and holes along the road—but we hope that you are prepared for them—and Sweetie pie, lots and lots of love and kisses.

Mom and Pop Read more…

a href="http://fridayflashback.blogspot.com">

The summer of 85. Last summer before mass deaths in the third world country called America.

Summer of Madonna

Summer of Live AID–which I did have confused with AIDS at first as I had so many sick friends.

Two thirds of all my friends were to die between 10/09/85 and I don’t remember the exact date in 91.

Days before the protease inhibiters, days before common courtesy was extended to men sick simply because of sexual preference.

I didn’t have any junkie friends. I didn’t know any sick women.

I can only speak about the Gay community. One I was very fond of.

1985: year I was in one jet with a bomb in it–Heathrow, June, and one jet with the body of a man killed by terrrorists, Rome, October

1985: year Mick danced with Tina as if there would be no tomorrow. For years I had a poster of Tina on a wall, and I’m not that type of poster person. Tina Turner was inspirational.

1985: Year I would run into Diana Ross every damn night. Her office was on my block. I would come home from work, she was just leaving her office and she would stop as if a statue and wave at me. I think she wanted me to courtesy.

1985: a good summer for the beach, a place I could be found at frequently. In between my trips to Europe

1985: my parents last road trip in Europe. They asked me to come along to navigate. I thought it was because my closest friend was dying.

It turned out that they really needed a navigator.

My father was the only known male to stop every two miles to ask directions. He drove my mother and I crazy.

We had fun on that trip. I got my parents tipsy at Octoberfest on Spaten, the only beer that I have ever really loved and been able to drink.

We talked and laughed a lot. I would leave my parents during the day and meet them for dinner. I never like to be on other peoples schedules when traveling. I like to walk everywhere.

1985: Year the Blenderbusters got our name when the bartender said we were going to bust her blender. Jim Thorpe PA was just beginning to become a touristy town. We were searching for the perfect strawberry margarita from Jim Thorpe to Montauk.

One of us, not me, has a house in Sag Harbor. We thought the Hamptons were built up and crazy then. We had no idea….

1985: Too many men, gay and straight wanted to become Blenderbusters. We were four girls so we made an auxiliary and had initiation.

They had to drive around in the rain for hours listening to Rod Stewart.* Any man who could survive that…

As Blenderbusters we had an energy, a force, that none of us had singularly. We can do a Motown medley like nobody. We spent Saturday afternoons discussing women’s issues and at five out would come the beer, joints and cookies. We were thin anyway

We had so many options it would take us hours to decide what to do. That is why when we went to the movies, we sat in the front row, pre-stadium seating.

I was into vintage clothes, tiered skirts, halter tops, lace socks, lace in my hair–the Madonna look before I ever consciously saw her, dresses with jackets, jackets without blouses, much marcasite, red hair, sometimes too much make up. Oh yeah, I liked going out.

I managed large scale litigation projects. It was 24/7 before the term was invented. I had worked 20 straight months between 83 and mid 85.
It was exhausting. My father offered to pay me to quit. I didn’t but took time off.

1985: I had a rare breakdown in musical taste and had a thing for Rod Stewart*. Hence the auxiliary initiation. It was his old songs that got to me: “Maggie May,” “Every Picture tells a story”

My fiancee and I broke up early in 85, and I turned away from all music that had a personal association with one of my relationships. That precluded almost everything. Rod was available.

But I couldn’t turn away from Eric and Tom. So when Waits did “Downtown Train” by Rod, I was in YUPPIE/Something else/Something better/Heaven.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OLA6AiZlVw]

Rabbit, Rabbit!!! I was scared to put this in yesterday in case it cursed it by doing it early.

I was shamed into doing the beginning of this post. Shameless self promotion, what a quaint blogging term.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You really can’t buy this kind of publicity:

Courting Destiny This writer is absolutely amazing. She may be too busy, but I hope not.

Thanks Riley!

I used to have a page of good things bloggers said about me. I gave equal time to the ones who didn’t like me. I had the quote in The Christian Science Monitor out. Tried linking to the group interview in Newsday but, uh, they wanted me to buy it, and I have never bought a newspaper article that has my name in it. I do keep out the paper that loves me’s cover because I just find it so darn adorable.

I suppose that I should be more publicity-oriented but staying under the radar suits me right now as I am focusing on my book when not obsessing about throwing away money each month.

One person thought the four figures I give my building was rent. No it’s money I pay on top of having bought the apartment outright.

i did that because I sensed that real estate was going to go to the sky. My bank kept offering me a mortgage and I never even inquired. Now real estate in most of the rest of the country is going down and in New York it might go up a bit. I’m not selling yet.

The condo in North Myrtle was so organized that cleaning four and a half rooms took at most half hour a day and was fun.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When I came home I thought I was depressed and had one of many revelations.

I wasn’t depressed. I was sad.

That was before I saw a book in B&N about people buying into thinking they’re depressed when they’re sad, which is a natural thing and can be easily helped without medication.

So I acted which is, I think, the only thing that can solve sadness.

i spent the week organizing my apartment. I have done everything but one dresser in my one closet that is 6′ by 12′ so I really can’t complain, get rid of clothes, and uh, the storage cage in the basement. But those things can wait or be done when in between other things.

Any more time spent organizing and I will be procrastinating. It was sad to leave a duplex for six hundred square feet, or two and a half rooms with a granite kitchenette and a marble Doris Day/Rock Hudson bathroom.

When I finally sell, I will come back to New York often.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I have been having a perfect New York weekend. Yesterday afternoon I took a nap because all this organizing uses parts of my brain that haven’t been used in years. Lucia called while I was still sleeping but before I would have overslept and been too tired to go out.

I met her and Little Luce at their apartment. The building only has about 20 apartments. Everybody knows everybody and it’s what people think of when they think of the Upper West Side. As we had friends living there 30 years ago, i know all the older tenants and most of the new ones. It feels a lot like home.

I say “it’s me” and have checked to make sure that I’m “0″ on speed dial, on the landline. “0″ is the really coveted spot because it’s the operator, and was my mother on mine for many years.

We went to a new sorely needed Italian wood burning pizza restaurant, and sat in the tiled and brick covered terrace that faces the street. They were prepping before filming a new thriller On the hook

It used to be that filming a movie was a tortured experience for the pedestrians that passed by. I would be on my own street, and a lowly PA would physically stop me from walking up the block. Never stopped me for more than 30 seconds. i do feel that people come before film shoots.

Now they’re more humane. They only stop people when they’re actually shooting. They only shoot for about a minute, and they try to let you pass even if filming. Yes, the people of New York won that one.

It was interesting to watch from a table because they were doing the light to simulate daylight. I see that often and assume it’s because night light can be used to make the exact lighting they want. There was a time in my life I would have Googled this, called the union, and found out everything I could.

Now I like the magic.

People began screaming from apartments for the noise to end as Elliot Gould was being filmed, and filmed, and filmed. Don’t know how many takes they took.

He wasn’t noisy, but some machines were.

Tomorrow the first overhaul of New York noise laws, in 30 years, will go into affect.

I don’t think that construction noise will be affected, but I’m getting my revenge on the penthouse next door anyway. They have incredible furniture that was obviously custom made. My building is on its second summer of pointing work on my line, and the dust goes into the deck also. Revenge can be sweet. Of course I sit here sneezing from the dust edging its way in as I have the windows open because it’s too beautiful for air conditioning.

After dinner I walked the eight blocks and two avenues home which is only a bit over half mile. A mile is 20 city blocks. Avenues are measured differently, and have differing widths.
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This morning Lucia came over and we walked on the Hudson River Parks to the West 30′s and back up. At one point we were walking in a bike only road, but didn’t see a pedesterian one, nor did it say “bikes only, no peds” anywhere. We were given a friendly warning by a policewoman. I wish I had my camera or a phone with me, and should next time, in case I’m given a ticket. Actually, exactly where she stopped us, it said “yield to peds” so uh…..

Then we went to the 79th Street Boat Basin for brunch. They only have white toast. How weird is that?

This is why I generally don’t write about my day. It’s not exactly fascinating. And I talk about things like toast.

We tried buying tickets for a New York Waterways Fourth of July fireworks cruise but we should have tried months ago. And don’t even ask about this.
Dylan in Bethel.

For all you Wikipedian’s, Bethel was the site of Max Yasgur’s farm where Woodstock, the one and only was.

However Lucia and I are determined to go to every thing we can. New York’s at its best in summer. The new river parks are everything I have dreamed of. They have many activities and we plan…..We’re also into a boat thing.

This morning we toured a tiny wooden boat that came here from Germany. They’re raising money to go to Scandinavia. I had neither camera nor phone nor can be trusted to photograph the right things. Also I have panic attacks when walking down staircases without good bannister’s or ones I’m not familiar with. it is part of my inability to judge space properly.

Now that I know there’s a physical cause, I wish I had let myself believe what I always intuitively knew years ago. It’s amazing the changes a bit of faith in oneself brings.

I’m listening to a Dylan song that sounds an awful lot like Tom Waits. I have to admit Dylan’s voice is uh easier on the ears. Yes I am that weird. I love Tom Waits and will come back to New York the next time he performs at The Beacon. I’m beginning to love Dylan again.

I count the years
and I shed no tears….

The games gotten old…
I’m going to have put you down for awhile

Dylan’s amazing. When I was in Junior High, he lived in the Marlin Hotel on Eighth Street. My great aunt, or my mother’s much older cousin, I was never quite sure of the relationship, managed and lived in apartment in it. My father and I went to visit her, and I won’t tell the rest of the story.
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Cooper get over the yuck crab factor. I have been kind of forced to watch people trap them and then we would cook and eat them.
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