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NauenThen

In the neighborhood

On Broadway.

How did I never hear such an obvious joke before? Corny but cute. 

 

I saw this on my way to see a movie at 9:30 in the morning! And it was free! And it was great! And they gave everyone a t-shirt! It was the latest Wes Anderson, Asteroid City, very stylized & beautiful &, well, corny but compelling. Riveting. He's moving way up in my pantheon that mostly contains Preston Sturges, John Ford & a couple of Archers films. Reminds me of Tristram Shandy, in that way Sterne had of joy at his own powers of creation. 

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Bloomsday!

A sentence from Joyce's Uluysses, chosen randomly from the book always at hand: 

 

And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for that purpose and thither come all herds and fatlings and first fruits of that land for O'Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them, a chieftain descnded from chieftans. 

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In the neighborhood

Our cozy home, where we are always happy together, even when we aren't. Even fighting or mad, we like each other. And thus 40 years passes & I'm still entranced.

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What I'm watching

Screenshot from my show. The Norwegian countryside is way more beautiful & dramatic than this makes it seem.

Fra bølle til bestevenn (From Bully to Best Friend) is a Norwegian dog training show. I only started watching it to listen to the language & improve my comprehension but I've come to really dig the trainer Maren, who's kind, no-nonsense & very pretty. Each season follows a handful of problematic dogs whose owners learn techniques to improve everyone's lives. They spend a few days at training camp, & part of the fun is see homes and nature around the country. 

 

Previously I watched a couple of sitcoms and Ikke spør om det (Don't ask about that), where members of various groups (politicians, Muslims, Downs, clairvoyants) are asking embarrassing/probing questions. That was a fun one. 

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Lovebirds

Me 'n' Johnny, dressed for a night on the town. Hey, it's June, why aren't we going to weddings? I only have one outfit is the only problem, & the moths got to Johnny's pants. 

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What I'm reading

The Word-Hord: Daily Life in Old English, by Hana Videen, is one of my favorite books of the decade. The words she gives us, drawn from food and drink, learning, working, relationships, health, and more, "tell a story about the English language, how the language of Beowulf morphed into the words and phrases we use today. They also reveal piece by piece the history of the people who inhabited early medieval England, how they worked and played, imagined and prayed—the history of their thoughts."

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At the Century Club

In the elevator, Century Club, 7 West 43rd Street.

They warned us against cellphones so I only took this one furtive picture when we were alone in the elevator. We'd gone there to watch the tireless & generous young writer George Salis receive the first Tom LaFarge Award, enough money that he'll be able to go to Greece for three months to research his next book. He's the one who tracked me down so he could interview Johnny about Mangled Hands, which led to its being republished a year or two ago.

 

It was fun to get dolled up & leave the neighborhood. We like taking a bus together. We hold hands & lean in close. 

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Blankness on Friday

A pain in the leg drives out thoughts.

Fear of collapse distracts. 

It's Friday. 

 

But I have plans! Stay tuned! Sunday I'll have lots to say!

 

Oh wait, there's this: Catch up with MOI!

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In the neighborhood: another airless day

Wow, that air was BAD. I feel like the frog in the pan on the stove. Getting used to worse & worse. I've had my fun & I'm not complaining. Mostly shocked & appalled. What world is this for young people, who would, I assume, like the option I had to be careless & carefree. Almost literally harrowing, the air raking my throat like iron forks. 

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In the neighborhood

This sky is the result of hundreds of wildfires in Canada. The air is acrid & the sky is dark. Last night it was almost green, like a midwestern tornado was nigh. I have a headache & we canceled our outdoor workout. It seemed crazy to go work out when they're telling us how dangerous it is but it seemed crazy that it could be as dangerous as it is.

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In the neighborhood

I was buying shelf brackets in a store on my block. Were you affected by the Spectrum outage today, the clerk asked cheerfully. I had no internet, I said, but I checked email on my phone. Now there's nothing to do so I'm going home to get high. He laughed, said he appreciated my honesty & gave me a small discount on my purchase. It was almost like flirting! 

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Monday Quote

Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson

 

In karate we say Control the body, control the breath, control the mind. Same idea. 

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In the neighborhood

Another sign of summer is that the flower sellers are back at the Tompkins Square Sunday greenmarket. Or maybe they've been here all along & I haven't gone by. Anyway, here are today's. One of the FM radio guys used to say it was one of the 10 best days of the year. Today would be on his list. Sunny, cool, beaming. 

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Poem of the Week

Part of the way I am learning Norwegian is translating poems into and out of the language. Entirely for my own immersion & improvement. Here's an old poem of mine that I translated into Norwegian. Noe av måten jeg lærer meg norsk på er å oversette dikt inn og ut av språket. Her er et gammelt dikt av meg som jeg har oversatt til norsk.

 

 

On the Bus

 


As much sky tonight in NYC as buildings

along First Ave

on the bus

I'm overcome

Becky's birthday and I am on my way

8 white wagons and 3 radios

summer at work and some

are going to work

A surveyor strolls the UN grounds, expansive and proud

everyone is beautiful

and relieved, it's only a dollar

only a dollar and we can ride

into the night that bears your name

There's Queens down 34th St, wide open

the Nebraska of New York

I'm not a 14th-century serf and I am no tycoon

white dress, bare legs, 93˚

Comfort me, come to me

"I love you my heart is innocent"

Where are you going

July New York?

 

 


På Bussen

 


Like mye himmel i kveld i NYC som bygninger

langs First Avenue

på bussen

Jeg er overveldet

Bursdag til Becky og jeg er på vei

åtte hvite vogner og tre radioer

sommer på arbeid og noen

skal på jobb

en landmåler rusler på FNs område, vidstrakt og stolt

alle er vakre

og lettet, det er bare en dollar

bare en dollar så kan vi ri

inn i natten som bærer ditt navn

Det er Queens ned 34th Street, vidåpen

Det Nebraska i New York

Jeg er ikke en tjener fra 1400-tallet og jeg er ingen tycoon

hvit kjole, nakne bein, 34°

Trøst meg, kom til meg

"Jeg elsker deg, mitt hjerte er uskyldig"

Hvor skal du, 

Juli New York?

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(Poem of the Week)

And what is so rare as a day in June?

Then, if ever, come perfect days. 

 

Anyone from Sioux Falls who attended Lowell School knows these lines, I would wager, from James Russell Lowell's poem "The Vision of Sir Launfal." My hometown was founded in the Centennial year of 1876, so it's not surprising that many schools were named after notable 19th-century Americans: Longfellow, Hawthorne, Garfield, Eugene Field, Cleveland, Horace Mann, Whittier, Edison (my junior high). 

 

I've written about this before, but when I was little, I assumed that my school was named after our milkman, Jim Lowell, who would let us ride in his truck: Of course they should name a school after him. When I discovered who James Russell Lowell really was, I dug that just as much. 

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In the neighborhood

A day of nothing memorable but many small & large joys. Most of all, a heartfelt conversation with an old friend who is wise, insightful, funny, kind, & who knows me, so what she says is always valuable. Didn't recognize one of my child students, who I hadn't seen in a few years & who is now 17 years old; now I remember the baby face behind the almost adult face. Karate practice: polish polish polish. Time to read & think. A pasta dish full of fresh vegetables to go home to, unless Johnny ate it all, but I'm betting he didn't. The sun is out. A different bike route to the west side, with different pleasures. Nothing special & all of it's special. 

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The end of summer

Hey sailor, new in town?

Yesterday was Memorial Day, next weekend is Independence Day & the weekend after that Labor Day. Summer is almost over. 

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Monday Quote

Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.
~ Mary Shelley

 

I was looking for something for Memorial Day but this spoke to me. I've been feeling unsteady. Like I've lost the thread. But I was given an assignment that I hope will serve as a purpose that will steady me in the weeks ahead. 

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In the neighborhood: 9th precinct

And here ya got yer typical inconsiderate police car parked square in the middle of the sidewalk. I could barely get around it, & what if you were using a wheelchair or walker. As usual, the cops have no interest in anyone but themselves. 

 

Last week it was a bike sting, stopping people who rolled through a light a second before it changed at a corner with no turning traffic or pedestrians, & handing out $190 tickets. If they had been doing it at a dangerous intersection, I would have cheered, but this was set up to shoot fish in a barrel. Legal, maybe; fair, no.

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Translation

I've been translating up a storm, mostly from Norwegian into English but also the other way round, in an attempt to improve my grasp of the nuance of words (as well as the straight meaning, a lot of the time). It certainly makes me aware of my limitations: is the best translation for "disappear" in this context (a Chekhovian poem by Maureen Owen called "Whenever I snow") forsvinner or blir borte? I have to understand the poem for a clue to the better choice. I have to understand every word & its etymology & every use it's been put to. You must know everything! 

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In the neighborhood

Walked around with Steve this afternoon ~ watched the orientation film at the Tenement Museum & managed not to buy more postcards: not till I send some of the hundreds I already have. Took him to Economy Candy for old-timey New York, and the new Essex Market to see the gentrification of Delancey Street. Later we'll have Greek dinner & pie. A nice leisurely warm summer day. 

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Tuesday, as ever

Why is every day Tuesday? 

 

There's a lot I don't understand. 

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Monday Quote

Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.

~ Rudyard Kipling

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To the farm!

I'd wanted to go here for a long time, although I figured out later that it was actually the Wyckoff House in Brooklyn, the city's oldest home, that I'd set as a destination. No matter, the Queens County Farm Museum was fascinating. It's the oldest farm in NY State, established 325 years ago in 1697. It's an hour and a half away by subway & bus, almost to the Queens/Nassau County border. 

 

It's a working farm of 40-odd acres, with cows, pigs, alpacas, chickens, goats, dirt roads, a barn. We took a ride in a hay wagon; so corny it's great, we agreed. Being there took me far from the urban world & half a century (or perhaps 3 centuries) back in time. I didn't grow up on a farm but they were all around & I didn't realize how much agriculture determined the rhythms of my days. And then I wanted to get back to the familiarity of concrete. 

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The exterminator overlap

I was a block away from my office, leaving for the day. Wait! I forgot something & turned around. My phone rang. I ignored it. In front of my door, I see The Man from Advanced. That was who had just called. He came in to do his business. Oh! A lot of books, he said, admiringly. Do you want a book? I said inanely. Sure! What do you like to read? Books with a message, he said. And I found just the thing: something about conversations between Einstein & God, although that's not exactly it. I don't know why I had it, & it was in the giveaway pile, so I was delighted. This made my day, he said.

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At church

See the ship? 

Wonderful program at the Norwegian Seamen's Church last night to celebrate Norwegian Independence Day. A lineup of excellent musicians, especially a string quartet from Norway of high school students, and the woman pictured here, who played the Norwegian pipes. They differ from Scottish in the reed (I think that's what she explained), making the sound similar but mellower. Steve enjoyed the salmon open-face sandwich & the marzipan cake, & I met some of my teacher's newer students, & said hi to a few people I've met at other times. Veldig gøy! 

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17 Mai / Syttende Mai

Gratulerer (congratulations) to Norway on Constitution Day. Their democratic constitution is the second oldest after the United States (1814 vs. 1776). Hipp hipp hurra! I'm headed over to the Norwegian church to watch a barnetog (children's parade, lit. children's train), sing & whatever else is in store. Fireworks? Not that I've heard. 

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And really goodbye for now to Maine

Detail of Yvonne Jacquette's tryptich at the federal building in Bangor.

How much did I really live in Maine? I had jobs but they tended to be under the radar, like tooling leather belts & selling them at crafts fairs, or taking care of the 93-year-old mother of a man I met when I went to Bill Cohen's family's bakery to ask for a job. He said, I've got a job for you, follow me! And we jumped in our cars & drove to his big house in Brewer (twin city to Bangor), presided over by his wife, Sandy, the most generous person I've ever met. She saved us over & over with meals & showers & advice, all thrown out so generously that we never felt burdened.

 

But I didn't know where the Margaret Chase Smith federal building was in Bangor, & I don't know if it was even built when I lived in Bangor. (Yup, 1968.) I don't remember if I ever had a Maine drivers license, although I probably did. I recently found my ID from the U of Maine, so apparently I was a college student. 

 

Nonetheless, I lived lightly there ~ intentionally (I guess I knew I was passing through) & because I was young. I guess I was really year-round "summer people" for the three years I spent in Vacationland. ("Summer people" ~ & some aren't, we used to say.) I do know a slightly racist joke about Lewiston, which always seemed not funny at all but a sign that I knew the joke & therefore the town. For a minute I was from Maine.

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Monday Quote

Sometimes you are aware when your great moments are happening and sometimes they arise from the past. Perhaps it's the same with people.

~ James Salter

 

I have no idea what this means but I dig it.

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New York, New York

Entirely back, having gone to 3 poetry events since Wednesday: a wonderful reading by Maureen Owen & Susie Timmons, a memorial for poet & teacher Bernadette Mayer, & a another memorial for poet & publisher Bob Hershon.

 

The one for Bernadette went on nonstop for 3 and 1/2 hours, but was totally worth it for the very last performer, the formidable 83-year-old Ed Sanders, who sang, heartbreakingly, "How Sweet I Roamed from Field to Field," a Blake poem, and Tuli's beautiful "Morning, Morning," getting stronger as he got through them. No ego, he gave us the songs & stepped off. 

 

The event honoring Bob was briefer, & was more for the new issue of Hanging Loose & his last book, Unveiling, with wonderful art by his daughter, Lizzie. I read a couple of his poems, including his wonderful "Derek Jeter," where he names me to be his baseball executor & telepathically tell him what's going on. I gave a copy of that poem to Jeter & he signed the book, when I was introduced by mutual friends. I don't know if he read it. 

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