Believer Magazine, McSweeney’s - Bryant Park Reading Room

I am here in Bryant Park at the Bryant Park Reading Room for the "Word for Word Author" Series. These writers are from Believer Magazine and McSweeney's. McSweeney's is the lit magazine I submitted to write for. (Sentence ended on preposition! Yipes!) I hear (or not) whether they think I am worthy after August 7th.

If there is one thing I am used to that is waiting, rejection and not knowing.

But back to NOW. I am blogging LIVE since Bryant Park has free wifi. How great and modern is that? Again, add it to my list of why I love New York so much.

Today's program...Here is the blurb:

Popular authors from McSweeney’s literary magazine with keen advice on how to write - and publish - ground-breaking fiction.

Here are the authors:

Jessica Anthony, The Convalescent
Joe Hagan, Writer, The Believer, New York Magazine
James Hannaham, God Says No
Arthur Phillips, The Song is You
Brandon Stosuy, Senior Writer at Stereogum

Here are their books:

I am sitting here at a Parisian park table with matching green chair under an umbrella looking out over Bryant Park and listening to writers talk about writing while writing myself.

I have enjoyed half-listening to these writers while writing.

Hmm. Seems a lot of these people went to grad school. Yay, a hang up of mine. Wonder if I will address it any time?

One guy is a blogger and writes about Norwegian black metal. Something I actually know something about from my documentary days at Sundance Film Festival.

Another guy teaches and writes. Another is a blogger and writes. Hmmm.

I seem to be most drawn to Jessica Anthony. I think I like her. She read from her book and it was the kind of writing that I am drawn to - funny, observational, descriptive. I think second place for me is James Hannaham, but I would not like to hang out with him. Just because he seems long winded. THAT is the pot calling the kettle black. Maybe he is me?! Ah, but Jessica. Dreamy.

Not much interested in serious writer guy on the left.

Dreamy Jessica won $10, 000 for submitting a poem to Poetry.com. She said they have crappy poems and she could write crappy poetry. And she did. In 20 minutes. And she won. And then she put herself through an MFA writers program with the money. Wow. I like that. Crappy poetry leads to MFA.

Oh finally. Q & A time. The public gets to pipe in. I know there will be one! Wait for it. Wait for it. Aha! Perfect. The classic "This is not a question, really, but a statement." That translates to "I am really just here to hear myself talk and declare my own brilliance in front of this captive audience." There is always one. Or two. Stand back, I know. I am a semi-professional moderator. It is trying.

So here is my plug: get Jessica Anthony's The Convalescent

Death. Dinner. Danger. Dolores.

I am housesitting in the West Village. And like all cool downtown denizens I plainly do not like to go above 14th Street. It was scary easy for me to strike this pose so quickly. But today I had mucho to do in the Upper East and West Sides so I had to put down my bongos and shave my goatee and dress in a coat and tie and head north in this sweltering heat.

First stop:

Death.

My friend Peter lost his dad this past week. I went to the funeral parlor on the Upper East Side where there was a memorial for his pop. (If I may be blogger-tacky: posh Campbell's where Judy Garland was laid to rest.) If I know anything it is to send sympathy cards and show up at memorials/funerals whenever possible. Just like getting married (so I am told) it is all a blur to the family (this I know), but it means so much to show up nonetheless. The support is huge and needed. It was good to see him and meet his mom and brother. What a great guy Peter is. I know it will be rough. It is so odd to enter the "One Parent Club." I was in it for just under 10 years and then I joined the "Adult Orphan Society." Today I was also thinking of my friend Teresa in California as she just lost her mom.

Dinner.

My friend Ellie had me over for scallops. Not just dinner, scallops. We seemed to have gotten on the topic when I wrote about my ventures in cooking. It was a wonderful meal. Dill. Who knew?! As always we had a great chat about life past, present and future. I love all the stories. FACT: She was the first ice skater to skate at Rockefeller Center. Over 70 years ago. And I love that I can tell her about anything. It was just a plain fun dinner and then she surprised me with my own personal birthday cake and ice cream. Wonderful. Oh, and with Ellie always something unusual can happen. I mean in the best, most exciting way. (Careful, she reads my blog!) Today's event was her neighbor came over with his lawyer and we both signed his will!

Danger.

I had to head up to 114th and Riverside Drive on the Upper West Side. It seemed to make most sense to shoot up the Upper East Side on the 6 to 110th Street and cross over. And "crossing over" is what I felt I would do when I came out of the subway. I felt like I was on a movie set shot in New York 20 years ago. I think I was in Spanish Harlem. In my coat and tie. I did not feel safe for the first time in New York. This is odd for me. And, forgive me, but I felt so white. And dressed up. And threatened and dorky. I asked someone where I could get the crosstown bus. And all I could hear out of my mouth was Eddie Murphy doing his white man's accent. The guy was nice, of course, and said he never goes across town. Finally I found someone who knew. I had to walk a few blocks. I got on the bus and arrived in the newly regentrified West of bistros and frozen yogurt. I felt at home.

Dolores.

My friend Dolores is moving to Rock Island, Illinois after more years in New York than I have been alive. And she has never been to Rock Island! Some friends had a going away for her at their flat that overlooks the Hudson River. It was fun. She is a really nice lady and I am glad I met her here in NYC. She is kind. That is the word. We don't use it often, but that describes her. She is kind. I like that. I wish her well and I am so glad she invited me to her party.

Now to get out of this office drag and head back to the Village to my shorts, tank top, sandals and faithful dog!

Thank you for this day.

New York Stories

Tonight my plans got cancelled so I stayed in and watched "Jeffrey" and "Annie Hall" The point was not to watch proper named films, but I guess it was to see New York films I had already seen to see if now that I live here the locations mean anything more to me.

Well, I think a lot of the places have changed, but at the end of "Annie Hall" Woody Allen is standing right at w. 63rd across from Lincoln Center. I walk RIGHT where he is standing most days to go to the 63rd St. YMCA. What a thrill it was to see that.

But it turned out that it wasn't the time periods (1970's "Annie Hall," 1990's AIDS, "Jeffrey") that struck me, but the shared themes of fear and relationships in Manhattan. Wow. Fear of commitment, fear of death (Woody and Jeffrey!) and fear of AIDS ("Jeffrey") and fear of loss in general and risk.


Both films I have to say were moving to me in their own ways. "Annie Hall" is indeed brilliant. It has layers that I had not perhaps been mature enough to see before. It was a really well done film and captures New York (and Los Angeles) of the time very well. And "Jeffrey" though not nearly as great a film it has an Oscar-worthy performance by Patrick Stewart that is beyond mincing and bitchery and he really makes you cry. He did me. And Steven Weber is note perfect. I was very moved by him and his fear.

Moved or related to?

So tomorrow I shall swing a tennis racket, boil a lobster, meet a man and fall in love.

The Battery Park City Passeggiata

Modern times and modern dance caused me to text my Tribeca-dwelling pal, Hilary to come and join me to watch the Merce Cunningham troupe at Battery Park City. I was late in getting word so she missed it, but we did meet and took the most wonderful walk.

Spontaneity seems very difficult in New York for some reason. People just aren't or don't have the time or facility to be "Sure, right now? No problem!" Myself included, I know even though I want to deny it.


But the moment was right and we walked along the Hudson River down to the Battery on a beautiful summer evening. There in the background was the Statue of Liberty holding her lit torch and keeping an eye on wee Ellis Island. And people were out in droves walking, running, cycling and dining. It was magnificent.



After passing by the al fresco diners, we happened upon the Irish Hunger Memorial. No joke. There is one. I had no idea that there was a memorial to my people and our potato famine. It is quite striking complete with real famine-era cottage and Irish limestone. I half expected it to be a ride. I did notice that there was no concession stand which I guess would have been a bit much.
And no speakers blaring "Four Green Fields." Now that would have brought on the tears.

Merce Cunningham RIP It Up!

Merce Cunningham died July 26th at age 90. He is one of the most famous and accomplished choreographers and modern dance gurus in the world. Not a bad gig, not a bad run.

I went down the Battery Park City to see his dance troupe perform at the RivertoRiverNYC festival in his memory. It was a beautiful evening and here I was on the open space lying on the grass watching these incredible dancers with the Statue of Liberty in view just over their contorted shoulders.

Oh Youth and Beauty, I thought. Or is it Oy Youth and Beauty, I wonder.

The Highline Chanteuse - The Renegade Cabaret

Sue and I took a stroll on the Highline this evening - this amazingly repurposed stretch of out of use elevated railway converted into parkland and promenade. I love this place and it was an amazing evening. We ended (where the highline presently ends until extended) at 20th Street in front of the apartment building where the laundry hangs. This time the laundry looked staged to me like Caffe Venezia in Berkeley, CA where the laundry hangs with a New Orleans Square, Disneyland flair.

Sue explained to me that there is a singer who appears from this fire escape and sings to the strollers on the High Line. I imaged her appearance timed on the quarter hour and popping out on the fire escape and moving to the music like a figurine inside a German clock.


We saw a woman inside the apartment and coaxed her out to get her to sing for us. (Sue's idea) and it turns out she is the manager and the "lady in the green dress will be performing at 9pm." By this time a crowd had gathered at Sue's creation - a host of us were informed when to come back and what restaurant to eat at meanwhile. (La Lunchonette)

Turns out the New York Times has covered this. And there is a Facebook page. And, silly me, its own website. It is called The Renegade Cabaret.

With my interests in digital and social media I am very impressed by the use of new technology to promote this grassroots art project. For me it possesses a "why didn't think of that?" ring to the whole thing, but then I don't have a fire escape overlooking a converted elevated railway or a voice for that matter, but I am reminded that I live in New York City where stuff like this is born and I can have my own renegade moment once I come up with it OR is comes up to me.

Now that I have joined their Facebook page I will be notified when to come back to see her show.

Beautiful Morning. Madison Square Park