one thing today

  Yesterday - my final full day here. My rich next door neighbor, the guy who allegedly cranks bone with the never spotted mandingo (slang for …  a man of African descent with a big one ) just walked down to the beach. He’s buff and has a tattoo on his bicep I can't discern. I pick up the binoculars and lens him. He walks down the beach then comes back and does planks and pushups. The Sad Guy with the Little Sad Dog Who Hates the Beach  tries again to switch things up. No go. If I were a bird I’d live here. Perfect morning light. Bright warm deep. Winsome dragonflies fly. There’s a sailboat far out. Two actually. They look exactly the same. I wonder if they know each other. White tall skinny. We read the other night that we can see about three miles out on the horizon line. 3.2 to be exact.   Great afternoon. Watched a Warhol doc … bought vino for John’s farewell drink with me. 6PM here shows off in an understated way. Bill Broker Man emails that he can’t believe I’ve been here for

  Oh what a good night last night    … lamb and grilled peppers and carrots. I prepped and sung full out and Phillip complimented me from the ball and chain porch.    Molly cooled out fine. We toured the more established part of the hamlet … watched Beatles vids - Ringo shaking his shiny mop top - yeah, yeah, yeah. Watching them on Ed Sullivan gave/gives me a Pavlovian response more than some - new sound, new days, surprise and mystery is straight ahead. Was a time. I read there are about 10K waves crashing on the shoreline everyday here. Seems like more. They crash white blast and have a second act today with a finer firework spray crescendoing.   The water rushes underneath my chair with a beautiful arrogance. I walk back to the house past singing, shimmering dune grass. Sheer smooth nature grace. Its easy being poetic here.  Everthing's dimensional.

  \ Yesterday.   Its almost nine and my guests are still zzzzz. It’s raining but bright white out there. Maybe yes, maybe no. For the past four hours I’ve had coffee and wrote, went down to the water, took pictures, read an interview between Chaka and Joni, watched a little news, finished a book and read some old magazines about George Floyd. It’s one of my last mornings and gotta stick with the plan of sucking all the juice out of it that I can.   I am reading Art Spiegelman’s MAUS, the subject of M&Ps doc in progress - Jules Feiffer says a remarkable work, awesome in its conception and execution … at one and the same time a novel, a documentary, a memoir and a comic book.   brilliant 7:27 pm damn. I forgot what I wanted to write in here.   Maybe it will come to me. I thought it was important … oh, yay, I remember … seeing a cardinal … I quote ... the   sight of a cardinal holds special meaning. T hey say the vibrant red bird is an uplifting, happy sign that those we have lost wil

  5:20 am on  Tuesday the 27th  … the colors are so dramatic outside - not light, not dark … like elegant, expensive paint. It makes me glad I didn’t go back to bed and tempts me to wake my guests … but no.    Let them be. It really doesn’t look like rain as they predict.   Molly and Phillip here.    With good news. Their latest doc is gonna be an  American Masters.  We had pasta and peas and went swimming in a hurly swirly ocean green, warm and rough and ready to gobble us up like gumdrops. It made me feel both young and old. I told M floating and only seeing sky makes me feel not sure of what form/container I have lived within all these years. Molly and I being so happy in the roiling ocean hit my pounding heart. After dinner, we talked about this and that and fathers and somehow it came down to Jessie.   P asked  where is she now.  I tell him she died and then broke down crying.  I thought of Paul Simons lyric - the powerful of pulsing of love in the vein . I missed her so much in

Beginning of the last week here. Yesterday, oh what a fine day. Sil takes the 8 am ferry after we talk for a couple of hours. Watched a good new piece about Paul Simon. He’s losing his hearing. I do laundry and a nap.    “Paul, Paul” Asa and Ry wake me up. We drink wine and snack. We listen to Joan Armatrading and Joni. Ry collages in my guest book. Asa doesn’t watch many movies - I get jealous, he says. I tell him but you gotta learn how they do it.  Ry agrees with me.  I go swimming naked for the first time this trip.   The only other people anywhere are the Guy who Makes his Wife Laugh.   They seem vividly happy.  Under  Vermeer light   big bursts of wave force and sounds toss  me round. I go to karoke at Cherrys at 7 but the big thick blond drag queen is dragging things down with not much uplift or end in sight. No karaoke. They set up tables and announce Assasins at 9.   I’ve heard about them for weeks and stay. While I wait for the show … I text with Lynda bout things and bask

Saturday the 24th … moms birthday … she would be 106. Rainy … sun slowly deciding if it’s gonna give us a break today.   But Sil is a kind of gray day girl … no SPF for her … so we’ll be OK .    Good day. Went to the little Tiny Tears Doll pride parade and then a dance in the community theater on the rooftop. Gave old age a good name. Healthy, happy people in a scrumptious setting.   Dancin’ talkin’ livin. Hope I emulate them a decade from now.  The Barbie Boys won best pride house decoration. They were so proud of themselves. They should also win the best next door neighbors award.  I love this charmed place.

  Friday 6/23 Lions and tigers and Tahitian kite flyer, oh my. In a jockstrap no less. On the midday empty beach, surf surgin’, wind ablowin’, rain a goin'.  Right out of a 70s porn mag. Where is a film unit when you need ‘em?  Sil about to arrive. I trust in the nature gods to make her arrival rainless. That would be very hospitable.   OMG Silvia and I go to the dock for the sunset … no big whoop tonight and then onto Cherrys. We run into the comely boys she talked with on the other side while she waited more than a minute for the ferry. And we take in an Amish girl trio who looked they were dropped down from somewhere far off over the rainbow. The drag queen who was lacking ample snappy repartee had two cha cha dancer amigos flanking her who were sadly malformed, short and wore flesh colored mesh shirts that looked like grade B- gynecomastia Spanx. They reminded me of Julie Harris’ little Philippino boy sidekick servant who giggled way more than he formed words in Reflections in

I haven’t exactly been a dazzling icon of sartorial splendor out here.  Good news from Patty in Brooklyn. Peter, her son, just got a dream job in Rhode Island. His two boys can go to the Gordon School for free. He will be the Director of Social and Emotional Learning and a sports coach. Bette, his wife, is hired as a learning specialist, they get a no rent house on campus and the boys are gonna have a basketball court. The best news today and for a while. Good on him.   He is a wonderful man.   Sun almost down. The sad guy who owns the Sad Dog that Doesn’t Like the Beach is trying once again to turn things around. But he sits sadly on the steps at the end of the right now sad boardwalk. Still no go. I said a little prayer for them. I don’t believe in prayer.    

Yesterday, we grilled chicken and asparagus and made Lynda’s famous bean dish - which IS very deeeelish. I’m eating it right now and we'll eat it all day. We walked to the Belevedere and ran into my beloved not. Darn. And by the way, Drat that Barbie House Patrick cat. Lynda loaned me her OMG-you-can-read-people’s-lips-on-the beach-with-‘em-from-the-kitchen binoculars. I now have eagle eyes and ha ve to be careful not to become the Nosey Old man with the binoculars in the white cottage.   So what do I see in my nocs a short while ago … Patrick making out with a man who is far too young for him … Patrick holding hands with a man who is far too young for him … Patrick walking the beach all goo goo ga ga love is a many splendored thing with a man who is far too young for him. You get the picture.   I say darn and Lynda asks … oh ,  are you interested in him ...  and I say no, on no . I brush my teeth and come out and say well, I guess that’s not entirely true … and she says he’s no

  I have to improve my voice to text game … Lynda, would you mail email me the beauty shop me the beauty shop I think my back walkover maybe its just a walkway thanks …   Hey, you’re holding out on me all this time. Ken Dedo by I can’t find that lack a text you sent me or accent chair that’s a blog were the nutty pizza language.   She answers back ...  huh? Sorry, friend.  You’re tolerance is appreciated and may be rewarded someday soon somewhere somehow maybe who knows.  

Paul: Where's the ball and chain?                              Jay:   On the ball and chain porch.  My nature is too passionate, my emotions are too fervent.  - Queen Victoria

  Monday the 19th   10:49 pm back from Cherrys and quite an eventful visit.   We made pals with Kelly the bartender who has a one year old son somewhere on Long Island. We talk about this and that and she tells us her baby daddy worked construction at the Belvedere - the wedding cake looking mens only hotel here that resembles Liberace’s wet dream primary crib.   She shows us pictures and says her infant is probably the one and only kid ever conceived there.   I tell her I’m a go od editor and she should write a book - The Belevedere Baby - or maybe The Miracle Birth at The Belevedere - and I’ll give her a sweet deal re: profit share.   Lynda and Jay took a walk around the Grove this afternoon as I took a noteworthy nap. They ran into Candido who built big chunks of the hotel. They talked and talked and said Lynda should come back on the 4th when they loosen up their fucked up wildly un PC policy and allow women to break thru their barrier/restrictions and experience the grandeur that