Elinor Nauen

Slept late (till 6), took a nice soaky bath in which I finished a book called Riding with Strangers, about hitchhiking, Johnny brought breakfast from B&H (challah french toast), I got out of the tub & fell asleep for a few more hours (very unusual), Johnny & I giggled, finally got dressed & went  Read More 

Wow, I used to think about cars so much & now they have dropped out of my daily life the way the Yankees dropped out of the pennant race. I loved cars & now I barely can tell one square silver car from another. I used to go fast because I knew the car could do it—I just had to let myself trust it. The last time I drove, in the mountains of western North Carolina, I couldn't do it. My days of flooring every car I get behind the wheel of are over.

When the last car I owned got stolen (in 1998), I walked around saying, I'm a pedestrian, I'm a pedestrian. It was like trying to get used to suddenly being six feet tall. I'm a pedestrian. I didn't believe it, & now I'm not a driver at all. I loved driving, I used to drive cross-country at the drop of a hat, & now I get around on a bicycle.

I'm a pedestrian. I'm a pedestrian.  Read More 

Ollie's father was well-regarded artist Roy C. Nuse (1885–1975); his daughter, Judy Belasco, is a painter and his son, Ronald, is a photographer. Did I ever ask him about his marriage? his family? All I knew was that he had kids older than me. I didn't quite understand that people even had pasts. Stories, adventures, but not pasts. I do remember him telling me he finally figured out that work wasn't nearly as important as family. He never said things as advice, just musings. Did Ollie display his art or his father's in his place in Maine that I visited so often? If he did,  Read More 

I was a callow 20-something living in Maine when I met Ollie Nuse. He lived in a real house & made me real dinners. We were hippies who lived in an unheated shack (owned in part by Ollie) without hot water, an indoor toilet or interior walls. It's how we wanted to live, but I did love visiting Ollie over in Stockton Springs.

I'm the same age now as he was when we knew each other. That 38-year age difference now seems—what?— Read More 

Someone mentioned a blog where people post the most beautiful sentence they read each week. I couldn't find it but here's my candidate for today:

This cursed ground, which no one would have had as a gift to sow with a pinch of turnip-seed, is an earthly paradise for the Bees and Wasps. —Jean-Henri Fabre (1823-1915)

 

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My cat Buster loves to sleep on me. So I'm thinking it would be great to get one of those wraps that people use to wear a baby. Would he like it? Is he too heavy for it? I'd better give him a peticure first, in case he's inclined to fight while he's getting used to it. I want to bring him to work & around the neighborhood. Johnny & Karen think this makes me "a crazy cat lady."

If so, blame Toxoplasma gondii, says a Czech scientist named Jaroslav Flegr, a microbe in cat poop that "rewires circuits in parts of the brain that deal with such primal emotions as fear, anxiety, and sexual arousal," according to an article in The Atlantic. Flegr "believes that the organism contributes to car crashes, suicides, and mental disorders such as schizophrenia." In fact, his epidemiological research found that people who tested positive for the parasite were about 2.5 times as likely to be in a traffic accident as their uninfected peers. "When you add up all the different ways it can harm us, says Flegr, 'Toxoplasma might even kill as many people as malaria, or at least a million people a year.'” [click on photo caption to read the whole piece] Read More 

This goes back close to 20 years: I met a guy from India & asked where he was from. "Mumbai," he told me. I politely said I had never heard of it. "It's the most populous city in India." Really? Wow, what a hick I am! He finally relented & mumbled that they had just changed its name from Bombay. Oh, Bombay!

For some reason, I was adding cities to my weather app the other day & found out that Mumbai is on a different clock. If it's 3:30 p.m. right now in New York, it's 1 a.m. tomorrow in Mumbai. Why?  Read More 

No blog till Sunday, October 12, & I'll be off again October 16 & 17.

I feel like the guy who fed his horse a little less every day, & just when he got him down to nothing at all, the horse died. I gradually cut down on caffeine for a month before the holidays, mixing in more & more decaf, until I—well, I didn't die, & even better, I didn't have that coffee headache on Yom Kippur. I merely woke up every day as awake as I was gonna be.

Yom Kippur was Saturday. Sunday I overslept & was able to launch myself right out the door in 10 minutes, since I didn't have to make coffee. Then I went home &  Read More 

Do Less Do Little

Do grasp this:
those big bellies
roll & flow
thanks to a 1998 steak

those waves
white & roll
thanks to
fingernail moon
white & curled
not yet in the sky

owls shark for mice
“waste, waste! dominates the world”

I love my building, I really do. I even kind of love the half-assed repairs that the horrible, terrible George does. That is, I love that I don't live in an anonymous fancy place with, well, nothing to complain about. Nonetheless, I wish we had an intercom system that worked. This lame system has to have been his idea—maybe he was a Cub Scout in 1950. When we weren't around, he drilled a random hole into my wall from my neighbor's apartment.

Most people's intercoms don't work, buzz in a neighbor's house, or go off so  Read More 

Asked the worst thing that's ever happened to me, & I can't think of any serious candidates. Or nothing that still lingers. It's all just scars now, not pain. Never even had bedbugs.

Going to an antiwar (Vietnam) demonstration in Washington D.C. in 1971 changed my life—I met people who are still friends, it opened my mind to different lives (you're not in school? you work?!), & it was the start of my education: I realized that saying "war is bad because children get killed" to someone who thought the war a geopolitical necessity wasn't all that effective (hey, I was 19 & it was pre–oh, you know, pre–the days when kids know everything).

These days I'm less hopeful (& more claustrophobic about big crowds). Less hopeful that my presence is being counted, my shouts are being heard. Is showing up with a sign enough? "A thousand people in the street / Singing songs and carrying signs / Mostly saying, "hooray for our side."

I think of the unintended consequences of so many of our actions: good out of bad, bad out of good. How we all have different emphases for what should be done and Read More 

The Jews are a peculiar people: Things permitted to other nations are forbidden to the Jews. Other nations drive out thousands, even millions of people, and there is no refugee problem. Russia did it. Poland and Czechoslovakia did it. Turkey threw out a million Greeks and Algeria a million Frenchmen. Indonesia threw out heaven knows how many Chinese—and no one says a word about refugees. But in the case of Israel, the displaced Arabs have become eternal refugees. Everyone insists that Israel must take back every single Arab. Arnold Toynbee calls the displacement of the Arabs an atrocity greater than any committed by the Nazis. Other nations when victorious on the battlefield dictate peace terms. But when Israel is victorious it must sue for peace. Everyone expects the Jews to be the only real Christians in this world. —Eric Hoffer

I've been listening to an extended bout of Miss Kitty Wells for the first time in ages—possibly since the early, turbulent days when there was a lot of fussin' & fightin' between Johnny & me. "I can't stop loving you" & "The lonely side of town" & "I gave my wedding dress away" & a zillion more set the tears raging. Her twang (the way someone sounds flat—in tone not pitch—when singing with headphones on) bites right into the heart and you feel like she knows what's killing you. Even though she was widowed 33 days before her 74th wedding anniversary, she's the queen of heartbreak. Listening today is making me cry all over again—I suppose in relief of what no longer is. Or is possible.

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It was so bright in Central Park yesterday, and my cousin Julia & her husband Patrick had real cameras, so I didn't take the time to find a good place to stand where you could even see the statue, & anyway, you can't get the dog & the caption into one picture, but why is there even this memorial to a sled dog in NYC?

Patrick, from London on his first visit to New York, had a lot of questions I couldn't answer. Where's that steam coming from? When was the best era in NY's history? Where did the land come from to make Central Park?

I thought it wasn't settled but I was wrong: "Creating the park required displacing roughly 1,600 poor residents, including Irish pig farmers and German gardeners, who lived in shanties on the site. At Eighth Avenue and 82nd Street, Seneca Village had been one of the city's most stable African-American settlements, with three churches and a school. Read More 

I teach karate to kids 4 through 15. It's easy to tell the boys from the girls with the little & older ones but for some reason I often guess wrong on the 6- through 8-year-olds. I'm always saying to Kyoshi Greg: "Is that a boy or a girl?" The kids with long hair & toenail polish, dead  Read More 

Happy palindrome year on the Jewish calendar. I hope that the confusion, anger, frustration so many people are feeling will be washed away by the clear light of peace, understanding & Torah. I wish for good health, joy, adventure, art, love, meaningful work, peace. I wish for an end to useless conferences, backbiting, narcissism, pedestrians walking 5 abreast & not moving aside, pedestrians wandering in the bike line, bikers cutting too close, landlords who think 2 tin cans & a wire constitutes an intercom system. I wish for everything to get a little bit better.  Read More 

Best known for The Daughter of Time, a defense of Richard III, Tey's mysteries are a great pleasure. When I come upon a line like "the yelling crowd asparagus-packed into the long Georgian room," I know I'm going to have fun.

Josephine Tey's funeral was held the day I was born.  Read More 

Working drains the brain.

Tuesday a little more nothing.

I can only be smart for a couple hours a day.

By smart I mean "pay attention."

What's for dinner?

I didn't go to the People's Climate March, mostly out of claustrophobia but also because I nonchalanted the morning away. I didn't go to the dojo or the gym or for a bike ride. I didn't have lunch. I didn't write a poem or a letter. I didn't stand on my head, eat lima beans or wet my pants: I wasn't ever  Read More 

Two moments of honesty in the big city:
* When I got to work this morning, a piece of my keychain, with a thumbdrive & some pharmacy discount cards, was hanging on the gate.
* I forgot to lock my locker at the dojo, in fact left it hanging open.  Read More 

I spent all my time & writing energy today on an article. I'm really happy with it but I've got nothing left for the blog. If I hadn't sworn to post every day, I would skip it. This is gonna hafta count.

Worldwide, women between 15 and 44 are more likely to be injured or die from male violence than from traffic accidents, cancer, malaria, and the effects of war combined.

And isn't war an effect of male violence?

Man!

(By the way, that stat is from The New Yorker, which gets fact-checked up the wazoo, so I did not independently verify it.)  Read More 

I wish I had known that he was communicating when he blinked at me. I wish he were alive, this cat who loved me. I wish he hadn't had to go through dying without me & ahead of me. I wish he had had a better personality. I wish you could have seen his regal beauty. I wish I hadn't tormented him. I wish I'd known it was love that made him bite my eyeball. I wish I had known it was OK to be loved that much.  Read More 

Bird Sense

Stay away from hatters
Eagle-eyed for a cockroach
Big as a mouse

July breeze lifts the skirts
Heavy embroidery in a pleat
A bosom like a shelf

No one wants what comes next
Can you make a salad?
Sit up straight Vespa?

A handlebar moustache
A notebook
A door that won’t open

Fly away little one
Say goodbye to
No one to say goodbye
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Soon the East Village will have everything.
No more going above 14th Street.
No more Brooklyn.
Hey, Dr Dave!

Now I can't upload pictures to the blog. Stay tuned.

No post yesterday because my computer was busy dying, & the new one seems to be a lemon. I'm using an old computer that is pretty shaky.

I know what day it is! But it is also the birthdays of several friends & cousins. There is plenty to be grateful for (tho lack of sleep is not among them).  Read More 

Here's what I sent out as an email on September 12, 2001

Dear Everyone --
First of all, I am fine and so is everyone we both know. I decided to write one letter to a lot of you, so I could answer faster to the many e-mails I’ve received. Thank you to everyone who  Read More