Monthly Archives: May 2017

SOUNDS OF WRITING

You once knew writers were at work by the sound of their typewriters. Daytime in spring or summer, whole streets of the West Side and the Village were filled with the music of clacking and bells. . Now there is silence – windows closed for air-conditioning, computers too quiet to be heard below. It may […]

BUNNY MULLINS

Bunny’s Modest Proposal One problem is there are people everywhere you look on the street who I bet could use a good meal, and another is all of these rats all over the parks, that scurry where you used to see squirrels, so why don’t we ask some of the chefs in our multi-starred restaurants […]

I WORRY, THEREFORE I AM

It’s well known that a major part of child-rearing is giving your offspring things to worry about. I always warned: Eating ice cream and drinking something hot can crack your tooth enamel, which I read somewhere. A friend was warned as he left for college: Don’t sit on cement, you’ll get hemorrhoids. . Did memory […]

KURIOUS KATHY BLAKE

Jim was drying out pretty good and he kept saying “Kathy, let’s get together again” but I heard that before – all the times we made a fresh start over and then we’d lose everything again . so I said, “No Jim, you get yourself organized, by yourself – I’m keeping the kids in a […]

LOST IN AMERICA

You enter a diner far from home, in a state or neighborhood you’ve never visited before – and you know the place: it comes straight from the catalog of diners so you’re sure you’ve been here – the brass chandeliers and the Early American formica; the railings and tables; you know where the restrooms are […]

JESSICA, the Visionary

I am Jessica, the visionary, and this is what I am here to tell you: there are people who look everywhere – like homeless collectors of bottles and useful trash, we look everywhere – . in garbage, in libraries, on mountains, in watercress, in soda fountains, sometimes at church, and in the eyes of animals […]

GOODBYE TO CHELSEA SQUARE

23rd Street. On My 40th Birthday 6:30 a.m. . . . a mug of bitter coffee in a diner named Chelsea Square. This morning, the middle of winter, is dark as night. I’m surrounded by fellow survivors, bloodshot-eyed, unshaven, some at late suppers of corned beef, some with eggs and bacon. The coffee’s to keep […]