Swimming

It seems cooler today. I know I keep saying that but surely this heat wave has to pass sometime. We’ve been roasting here in NYC, melting into the hot street. I take Doe out and rush her back into the air conditioning. I’m glad I don’t have to wear a fur coat as she does. The yoga studios at Pure are overwhelmed by it, the sweat pours off of us in Level 1, and it’s been too hot to run in the park.

Last night, there was a breeze off the river, the moon looked like a prop in a movie set.  Paul walked me to the bus stop and pointed it out. It’s a straight shot across town from my place to his. The 96 Street crosstown is my chariot.

We’re working on a couple of pieces for a DW project. I wrote the first one last Wednesday, and the second on Thursday, then spent the next four days getting piano performances I was happy with. In contrast, Paul sat down with his guitar and played his parts with ease. He is a better and better musician over the years and can play anything, but mostly what I think about when I look at him, is what a great person he is, and how lucky I am to have his friendship. He’s been my best friend for more than 30 years. It makes me happy to see him so happy these days. His life is full of love and work now, and he deserves every minute of it.

Part of the reason it was so hard to get the piano performances (other than the fact that the pieces are hard and I’m not a great piano player), is that the noise factor is a problem in my new place. I was getting the low frequencies of everyone’s air conditioner, even after I’d turned mine off. Also, there’s the sound of traffic on Third Avenue. It rarely gets quiet. I need to get some sort of baffling for my mic, which is very sensitive and picks up absolutely everything.

I hadn’t worked on music in a long time before working on this project, but I feel like a fish swimming. It’s natural and satisfying for me. I’m working on my novel every day now, and that process is much harder. But I’ve been writing songs since I was 11 years old. I’m sure my second novel will be easier. My goal with this one is to, number one: finish it, and number two: make it as great as I’m capable of at this time, (which may not be very great at all.)  It’s the challenge of learning that makes it an adventure, and I’m feeling  good about the story, which is titled, for the time being, “The Original 1982.”

I’ll work on it for an hour this morning before running a couple of errands. Then it’s back on the cross town bus to Paul’s house, where we’ll finish our mixes and get them off to DW’s editor at Chinagraph.

Pure

Quiet Sunday morning. The birds are holding their conversation over the hum of air conditioners and traffic noise on East 94 Street. I’ve got the windows open. It’s a little cooler this morning, or maybe it’s just a little cooler in the mornings. Last weekend when temps were in the 100′s, it was never a [...]

A Father’s Gift

The memory of my father is a puzzle I try to solve nearly every day, but today, of course, he is even more on my mind. Over and over, I lay out the pieces, the conversations and silences, over all the years and phases. I draw my conclusions, as best I can, but always there [...]

Spinning Out

Working on a novel, or story, or whatever it is, and fear I don’t have any extra juice for this blog. In fact, it’s probably better to get away from it and write something else. I’m in a good groove though, working every morning into the afternoon. Sometimes evenings, too. Unheard of. What happens to [...]

Getting There

Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day. I actually sing that song sometimes while fixing the cats breakfast.  The legacy of a mother who loves musicals. I’m such a cat lady. Took Doe to the park this morning. Central Park is a big dog run before 9 am when they’re allowed to [...]

Furniture

Some objects grow dear, and I love this table. It’s got three boards. Purchased at an auction in Cold Spring, New York, 20 years ago, it must be a hundred years old. I’ve dragged it through the doorways of  tens of apartments, the studio, the house in Mattituck. Usually, that required figuring the angles. I [...]

Birds

You go along thinking your life will always be some version of what it’s been. For the most part you’re right. But there are still things that happen that surprise you. Mostly, everything will be like the other things that have happened, even the things that surprise you will be colored with the same crayon. [...]

Museum of Memories

Feels like spring today in NYC. The kids are playing basket ball in the alley. I’ve got all the windows open and once again the afternoon is full of the sounds of birds, basket ball, people gathered on Michael’s stoop. The change of seasons is always a time when memories are awakened. I’m reading Orhan [...]

Puddles and Snow and Fathers and Music

Walking on Saint Nicolas towards the bank on 125th Street this morning. I hear a man say, under his breath, “I’m sick of this gentrification shit!” This is obviously directed at me, and it makes me feel terrible. I want to stop him and say “Hey, I can’t afford to buy a new condo in [...]

The Part Memory Plays

Sitting here with the Taylor in my lap. Just played Whole Heart and Snow Come Down. Was thinking also about the song Through the Cracks, but can’t remember it well enough to play. My songs are so tied to the circumstances of their inspiration. Also, to the memories that surround performing them. Whole Heart: Vin [...]