one thing today

  Sunday 7/31 I just watched a doc on Bill Cunningham. He took photos of street fashion and fancy Manhattan night life and Paris shows for four decades - always on his bicycle and in his blue Italian street sweeper jacket.   He never partied with his subjects and thought money was the greatest of all evils.   He lived in the Carnegie Hall building in a minuscule studio filled with file cabinets full of his negatives, a desk and a small bed.   He claims he never had a romantic relationship, “not even in my mind” and went to church every Sunday. Once   at a fashion show - security was giving him a hard time and a designer grabbed his elbow and yelled at them “what are you doing - he’s the most important person on the planet.”  

  Saturday 7/30 Frank and his dad Steve are lifeguards.   The son digs a hole for our umbrella and we tell him we can handle it. He says “we’re not allowed to leave our shovel with anyone” and continues to dig like he was born to it. Frank, 40 years at the job, years ago had trouble with a supervisor of his in Islip and was then “banned to paradise” here on Fire Island.   He tells us his biggest claim to fame was saving Ann Bancroft   from drowning when she and Mel Brooks summered in Lonelyville. He tells us about volunteer guards in various communities    … and about the Pink Speedos squad in the Pines. I asked them if I could bring them back sodas from the house  … "no thanks" … and I thank them now for making this day more dazzling fun on this beautiful barrier beach. 

  I hear this sound all day behind my bathroom wall.   Like ball bearings churning. Chuga chuga chuga. I call my super and ask him to check it out and I email Lexi above me to ask if there’s anything weird going on in their place.   She replies there’s nothing unusual.   I text super David and tell him to let himself in over the weekend if he wants - I’m going out to the beach.   A short time later he shows up and looks perplexed and he’s never perplexed.   He can diagnosis and fix anything.   Finally he grabs my battery operated toothbrush thats on my shower thing holder.   It’s running.   He turns it off.   The mysterious sound stops.   I am embarrassed and he leaves saying - “at least we didn’t have to bulldoze the wall.”  

  A man who was imprisoned for 18 years - for killing his unborn child while assaulting the mother - became a track champion and recently ran the Boston Marathon.   There was a moment in the story where his longtime volunteer coach in Sing Sing was asked how it felt to see him finally thrive and become an important role model for so many people. Her face suddenly changed like the sky after a sun shower and thru joyful tears she said “it makes me very happy.”

  I would love to meet the person who made this graphic.   New York Pizza is on 14th and 7th.   It’s a nothing kind of place and I can’t say how their slice is cause I go to the place on my corner.   It’s been there  forever - I’ve been here for 30 years - and its tasty and the guys who run it are very cool and worthy of my loyalty.   But I gotta give props to the artist who thought up making a Y out of a guy twirling a pie.   Very nice semiotic work.  

  Tuesday 7/26 I went to see Nope this afternoon.   Jordon Peele is the new Tarantino. Hollywood now gives the 3 for 3 director as much moolah as he wants to turn his visions into blockbusters.   His latest movie is Close Encounters of the Third Kind 2022.   A woman with a lavender fro was one of the other four people in the theater.   When we were leaving I asked her what she thought   - “I fell asleep for fifteen minutes and then felt lost and kind of stayed that way from then on.   I thought it would be more psychological.”   

  Mon 7/25  It’s difficult to write anything about Joni Mitchell.   She has been a weekly presence in my life ever since I came upon her Song to a Seagull album in the record bin at A&S that teenage summer.   This past weekend, she sang Both Sides Now at the Newport folk festival. A You tuber commented …   In the waning, autumn years of my life, like a believer on the altar, I confess   to Joni's continuing influence on my aesthetic, my coda for being   in and perceiving the world.  

Sunday 7/24 Tonight a tv show played Ricky Nelsons “Lonesome Town” over the opening credits.   I was struck by how beautiful his voice was - feeling and sensuous.   He was the music guest on Saturday Nite Live when I worked there.   He didn’t seem very smart and spent most of his time on the phone trying to find the right place to bring his torn fur coat.   He died early in a plane crash and there was talk about it happened because they were freebasing.    And a nother heat wave lonesome day bites the dust here in Dodge.  

  Saturday 7/23 I went to the Whitney this afternoon to see if they had any John Sloan paintings on view.   Not today.   I just finished reading his biography.   He was an Ashcan painter with Socialist receipts who married a  4’9” alcoholic prostitute named Dolly who loved him dearly.    He never made a lot of money but ultimately died prominent.   I did see a lot of Marsden Hartleys and like his rich, dark colors and how versatile he became.   After he turned sixty, he didn’t give a shit if people knew he was homosexual and from then on - all hell broke lose regarding what he painted.   Better lesson learned late than never.  

Friday 7/22 I just watched Kubricks 1953 second   movie “Killers Kiss.” I love seeing photos and film of 50s/60s Times Square.   In the movie there i s a blinking sign of the Hotel Astor where I had dinner and heard live music with my parents and younger sister and brother during a Christmas holiday when I was about twelve.   In a letter I read years ago - my mom wrote my older sister that “dad was on his feet all night because the boys wouldn’t dance with Jessie.”    One earlier time in Times Square my sister Eileens friend Denise said “hold my hand tight, kid. There   are a lot of weirdos around here.” And I remember thinking - I can’t wait to grow up so I can move here and live with all these weirdos.   And I did.  

Thursday 7/21 During the heat wave, I’m watching more crap tv on Bravo - which brings up the subject of crocodile tears , a false, display of emotion. Crocodiles have tear ducts and they shed tears while consuming their prey. They cry to lubricate their eyes, typically when they have been on dry land for too long. Evidence suggests this could also be triggered by feeding.  So don’t feel sorry for Ramona and gang. It just might be the caviar.

  Wednesday 7/20 I’m always amazed at what strangers on the street say and tell me.   A woman just said to her friend - its so busy out here in the world being human.   And a Caribbean nanny pushes a beautiful baby in a stroller.   I say hello to them and ask whats the kids name.   Henry she says. I tell her I’m Paul.   And she says - “thats my name too. My mother had ten daughters and she wanted some boys so she started to give us boys names.”   She says this with no sorry tone - just a straightforward matter of fact face and way.   It made me wonder how I would feel if my mother did that.   This is one of   many things I love about city life - discovering stuff about others and myself on the street.

 Tuesday 7/19 I made a big mistake.   I sent a book to a very old, good friend. The memoir is titled “How to Stop Time - Heroin from A to Z.”   If I ever knew - I forgot she had a close relative who died from the drug.   I regret I did such a foolish thing - even if it wasn’t deliberate.   It’s changed my insides. I feel a darkness and wonder how long it will take for the feeling to go away.  May my friend be free from such a thing. 

Sunday 7/17

  Saturday 7/16   I go to visit Amanda and Nancy in my hometown.   We go to the beach and walk and talk about what we talk about and then go back to Nancys. We’ve known each other since we were ten. The house was originally built in around 1870 - no typo there.   We swim and hot tub and eat tasty chicken, grilled vegetables, banana bread and wine - and end the night in her comfy living room talking about our mutual fear of nursing homes and the end. I tell them about the former hemlock society - which I tell them is now exit.com - which I find out is wrong - its called "compassion and choices."   We talk about various ways of ending it and then find ourselves in deep, sudden silence. And then we laugh. 

  Friday 7/15 I get a crush on a female about every fifteen years. They are always brunette and placid.   One of them lived for a long time in an African jungle and one really loved Stevie Wonders “My Cherie Amor.” My current one is due to give birth to her first child in a couple of weeks on my birthday. Calling her even an acquaintance would be a stretch. She has crinkly eyes like Rene Z that always seem to be amused and knowing. All of my crushes sometimes hold their heads in a certain lovely way that boosts their alluring beauty. I have to think about what I can give her new baby that’s an appropriate gift from a I-hardly-know-ya new mom admirer.

  Thursday 7/14 The exciting news today is after being closed for a ten million dollar restoration two and a half years ago … my crazy beautiful Jefferson Market Library reopened today.   Built in 1877 … its described as ”a mock Neuschwansteinian  assemblage of leaded glass, steeply sloping roofs, gables, pinnacles,  Venetian Gothic embellishments and an intricate tower and clock." It’s a looker. The Mamas and Papas sang about the clock that "always read twelve thirty."  Today I sat near a huge oak table I sat at for decades writing journal entries, short stories, work copy and plays. It seems a life time ago and now the place is back and ready for more life. How strange. Happy news. Hooray I say .  

  Wednesday 7/13 Postcript re: yesterdays entry - I’ve learned that Saint Patrick is the patron saint of pest management of the animal kind … even though the legend of him running snakes out of Ireland is probably bull.   And Saint Gertrude, the unofficial “cat lady” of the Catholic Church, didn’t feel all that saintly when it came to rodents. Her veneration as protector against rats and mice dates from the early 15th century during the Black Plague and spread from Southwestern Germany to the Netherlands and finally … to Catalonia.

  Tuesday 7/12   Six months ago I had a mouse invasion - I tried everything - old school traps - pro life traps, cloves, essential oils , glue pads that mostly got stuck to my socks … one day, I turned on a stove burner and a mouse flew out of it with the greatest of ease ... kitchen wackamoe ...on and on and then Amazon sonic contraptions … 90 dollars for 3 and pooof !!! ... they vacated their not too shabby crib and went somewhere new in search of more welcoming accommodations. After one day of scrambling round like freaked out felons - gone with the wind. I recall thinking - well, at least they weren’t rats. Now this morning a neighbor in the building sent out an email blast … she spotted a rat. And not of the snitch breed.   Be careful what you fear.  And please pray for me if you pray.

Monday 7/11 My new painting ... pink pony.  I told a friend it looks like an over produced Rousseau wanna be. more is sometimes less. but it reminds me of a golden place and time big time.  and another ocean view from the living room window at the cottage ... what a great month - sand and waves and food and laughs, music, dancing, reading, walking, talking.  life as it can be should be hardly ever is.  something worth trying to get to more often.  fun and peace and beauty.

  Sunday 7/10 As is too often my wont - I wait until low sugar levels course thru my veins. I buy a Shake Shack burger and fries and wolf it down like a junkyard hound. Three couldn’t-be-having-a-better-time-of-it teenagers are scooping out free ice cream from their cart. They give me a third scoop - one more than they do to the three people in front of me. I wonder why. Age, build, slipshod benevolence?   Hot time summer in the city. My neck is gritty, my walk slow.  

  Saturday 7/9 I pinned some of my favorite photos on a bulletin board today:   Dylan wrapped up in his black and white checked scarf ... Two Helen Levitt photos - city kids jumping around in the back of a truck - and a woman holding a package in a houndstooth suit that’s the same pattern on the side of the cab she’s peering into ...  Jack Piersons plastic and painted metal Christ ...  Picasso in his french sailor shirt with his hands pressed against plate glass ...  Genius Laurie Anderson and I making a flip book portrait of ourselves at the Museum of Moving Image ...  Jack Kerouac on Allen Ginsberg's fire escape ...    Ethel Waters, Carson McCullers and Julie Harris lounging on a brocade sofa backstage on the opening night of Member of the Wedding- my fav photo ever.

  Friday 7/8 Went to the Quad and saw Body Double - ’84 De Palma’s riff on Vertigo featuring Melanie Griffith during her fizziest, friskiest party animal heydays - which coincided with mine. Was a time for all youthful creatures. Both of us who-knows-the fuck-why survivors … still dodging exit … still stoked with some fuel unlike so many of our swirling dervish dance mates from way back then who live in sweet memory everyday always.  especially Carole.

Thursday   7/7 I go to my deli for ice coffee, a bagel and the Post. As always Hugo is at the counter. Whenever I ask him how he is he says fantastic, fantastic. I ask him if he read today’s cover story in the paper - about a bodega guy in Queens whose now in Rikers, unable to make his 250K bail - all because he killed a guy who walked behind the counter and asked for all the money while his sidekick skanky girlfriend tried to shank him. Hugo says he skimmed the article and I tell him to be careful and just give anyone all the Fireball on the counter they can haul off. Hugo talks to his imaginary assailant - yeah, just chill out, man. Step to the side. Let me make you a sandwich. Roast beef on rye sound good? And I add … be sure to go heavy on the mustard. Good idea - he tosses back. I love starting the day with a hit of Hugo.  

  Wednesday 7/6   I go to the post office to pick up my mail that I had held for a month while I was at the beach. A little girl with pinned up braids is making a very loud high pitched screech while her mother fills out a form. I’m impressed by her high soprano early Joni birdsong. The guy at the counter next to me asks me if I have change for a hundred dollar bill - which reminds me of the Tallulah Bankhead joke - she’s in a toilet stall and knocks on the wall and asks the woman next to her .. Daaaaaarling ... can you spare some toilet paper? There isn’t any in here. Her neighbor says she’s all out too and TB says- in that case, do you have two fives for a ten?   The woman comes back with my mail and it’s a very scrawny parcel. 80 % of it is Fios ads. I say to her - wow, I’m really not popular - she answers - looks that way.  

  Tues 7/5   A guy in Union Square wears a t-shirt with a gingerbread man on it and the word "snap."  It makes me  recall seeing a Ginger Snap performance - she's a clever drag queen with a very meager production budget who sang "Defying Gravity" from "Wicked" low atop a step  ladder with a Hefty bag cape around her neck and her arms outstretched like Rose in "Titanic." Props and wardrobe - $17.00.  Bada bing boom!

  Monday 7/4/ I walk home from the movies and see a guy flat out on the street. I stare at him to see if he’s breathing. He doesn’t look like he is, but finally, his stomach moves under his t shirt. I decide to call 911 anyway. A concerned couple join me and wait for help. The big guy says - heroin. I notice marks on zzzzz guys forearm and say to them - he really could use a manicure. She says we should call Right on the Nail and tell them we have an emergency on 18th and 7th. Nine guys pull up in a fire truck and an ambulance.   They shout at him.   He wakes up and seems totally sober - I’m fine, I’m fine. One of the guys says - just hanging out in your crib, huh. He laughs and says yeah and turns back on his side with his prayer hands tucked under his cheek and goes back to sleep.

  Sunday 7/3/22 A big roly poly grandpa yanks his very young grandson down a path in Washington Square Park. The kid is like a small, bright scarf waving in the breeze just behind him. As he continues to be pulled along,the kid keeps trying to lick a dripping ice cream cone. It never reaches his mouth and he never stops smiling and never tells his abuelo to slow down.