I Can't Go Home After Work, Dude. Am I Right, Lara?

This dude seemed happy to pose for me.

Last Tuesday, the streets here in downtown Manhattan were too icy to bike to work, so walked about two miles from the river to the East Village. Only 30 degrees around 9 pm. Not cold for this winter. Warm! Warm enough to have a conversation while walking with my hand out, holding my phone.

I'd been out all day, since before the sun, and I wasn't heading home. Heading home, would make me feel like work had won the day.

I wasn't going to let it.

Heading uptown, I ended up in the basement of Three of Cups, where a one-off Keith Richards appreciation night, called Keef and Shit: a night to celebrate the undisputed kind of cool was kicking off around 10 pm. The thing was going until 4:00 am. This was a Tuesday night. The fact that NYC, way past Guiliani time, planned to stay up way late on a school night made me very happy.

This Keef thing was also being hosted by Cynthia Ross, a cool girl rock musician who used to date another cool kid, Stiv Bators of the Dead Boys.

Because I'm super dorky and I'm at this thing alone, I sit at a bar and take notes, just like I used to do in NYC when I'd go out alone in 1989.

Here's what I wrote by votive:

Notes by low weak candle

My transcription:

Bowie's "Waiting for the Man." Long-haired dude in an oversized pimp hat. Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower." Small boisterous group sings along to this. I want someone to take my order for pizza. Stones' "Star Star"--"Way back to New York City / Where I do belong" Now those dudes are singing exuberantly to "Star Star." Rod Stewart now. I just asked the gravelly voiced girl bartender for a pizza. She told me to order upstairs. Alice Cooper's "Hey Stoopid." Omg, Faster Pussycat. Now finally, the Stones. There are cheers. "When the Whip Comes Down." "Just My Imagination"--Keith's great backing vocals here. This song is so good.
____________________________________

So now you know if you ever see me sitting and writing in a notebook, what I'm writing is pretty stupid. But it was really stupidly fun to sit there and I wasn't tired AT ALL. AND (see above) I got a photo of the dude in the pimp hat, channeling Keith on my way out. Plus, Keith on the wall below:

I'll be doing a stay-out-late post every week, if this one wasn't too dull. Let me know!

Ephemeral Fall Inertia

The view from my computer

 I had a big beautiful perfect fall day in which to work, and got not that much done.

One thing I realized is that my fiction--now all in Google docs--is a mess. Completely disorganized. I can't find anything. I was supposed to send some stuff out today, but did not.

But I did randomly pull up a story--my life feels rather random these days--and began to work on it again, and tried to pull it away from its original inspiration--an old friend, no longer living. He died around now--in 2001--a couple of weeks after September 11th of drug-related causes. And I've never gotten over it.

So maybe pulling up that story wasn't so random after all.

Inspired by Lara, several hours after this, I went out to read more in Stuart Dybek's recent collection of flash fictions.

The view from a tippy chair.

Monday: Pantera Shirt in Cafe Ost

I had no idea that hours from this moment, random Pantera fans would  throw me the devil horns
from their car waiting for a light on the Bowery. Very rejuvenating!

I don't why I have this expression.

Me, breaking, in Cafe Ost.

Writing is slippery. I can't think about what I'm doing too much. I can barely blog about it.

I ingested an Americano AND an iced coffee. Super decadent writing day.

Also, I recorded in my notebook the names of lit mags that had been encouraging in the past.

I ended this session by reading a few of Frank O'Hara's Lunch Poems, some of them written in the neighborhood where I wrote today, where I always write.

I'm not writing about New York, though. I never write about New York.

Pen and Paper

Short work day meant I could get some writing done. I was floored, however, to discover that Think Coffee on the Bowery has no wifi. I just needed a little to open Gmail do I could get on a Google doc, with which one can work offline. But no.

Luckily, I had a pen and notebook in my bag. Hurrah for pens and notebooks.

I worked on new fiction--a new short story. Not inspired by the Kate Atkinson novel I'm reading.

Later, I worked on old fiction--the novella. If it's any good, I don't know about it.

Where I wrote--indecipherably

Dirty hair alley selfie on the way to some sad novella writing

Friday Night: Wordswork

One of my fave things to do is stand on the sidewalk and peer into the East Village Radio booth,  much to the horror of my offspring.  I really ask for so little out of life.

Another Friday night finds me at home.

Save for a quick writing trip earlier out to a tiny coffee shop where everything is served in robin's egg blue cups and saucers, I spent most of the day and night in my grungy tenement working.  Writing and working for free, which is what adjuncts often do.

Around lunchtime, my friend who works in midtown decided to come down from his office and bring lunch in.  And then he had to travel all the way back.  

Tonight, plans were thwarted right and left.  

Twenty-nine degrees outside.  The coldest it's been all winter.

I put some words together.  I heard Barbara Streisand sing Bowie's "Life on Mars."  It's been a strange evening.

Words:  21,819

CamusGinsbergBurroughsSimonKrupaMoon: A Better Day

Tights: Butternut cable, the kind five year olds wore in the 70s.

Word Count: 20,740

I think I got some better words today.

I have to spend time with this novel every day.  It's like going to the gym.  If I don't, well that will be bad.

I'm reading this book:

 Lara, you won't believe me, but it's as riveting as a Ken Burns' documentary.  Did you know Paul Simon is only five four?

Today the counter boy was welcoming when I showed up in his cafe to write.  I was the only person there.  The boy was reading Camus, and had a Moleskin notebook face down on the counter.  He told me he's a poet and a philosopher and reads "What all people of my age read:  Ginsberg, Burroughs."

Isn't it strange how perennial those writers are?  Young people have all generations have read those dudes since they were first publishing.  I know I did.

Later, while making split pea soup with the not quite full cup of split peas I found in the bottom of a drawer, I watched this: .
Did you know that Keith Moon was influenced by Gene Krupa?  At least that's what Alice Cooper was speculating here.

I know I haven't talked about any female artists in this post.  Except for me. :-)

I learned a lot today Lara.

Week One Funk

We met this congenial fellow last night.  I'm trying to channel his seemingly perpetual good mood today.

Rough start to a new year, but I'm trying not to see it as a bad thing.

I'm trying to sit with and feel out my funk.

In spite of it, I've been writing.  Here's the lastest regarding my book project:

Pages:  76
Word count:  18,229

I'm a pretty slow and careful writer, so I'm hoping the book doesn't need much revising and that I can get this in by the end of Feb deadline.

Day Three: Muddling

I also want to take and post a photo per day.  Here's today's.  But why so much darker here than on my phone?

Another slow start complicated by a kid who unexpectedly needed me and before that, I woke to news that threw me.

Today I decided that I had to put all of my efforts in one basket.  Consolidate my energy--have I ever said that in my life?  I have to submit a completed book by the end of February.  Right now, I have about 70 pages of that book.  And I don't know if those pages are any good.

How do you deal with self doubt?

Tomorrow:  more pages, which will be trickier, as I return to work.  Still, I must write.  I absolutely have to.  Okay?  OKAY??

Day Two

S gave me my new Xmas Moleskin.   Can't stop thinking "foreskin."  Sorry.

Slow, soft start to '13's projects.   Like Lara, I'm hoping that being daily honest on the blog will be motivating.

1.  Reworked a story I want to send out this week.  But I don't know if I've made it better or worse.
2.  Good vibes on the other thing I'm working on--the thing with the end-of-Feb deadline--although did not allow enough time.
3.  Sent out nothing; made no queries.
4.  Worked on a student's incomplete from Fall '12.

Nice day, though, for my soft start.  A good clear light and brisk.  Sending better skies to Lara.

Mother Christmas

Not much to say.

My day was filled with my last day at work for the semester, and then, immediately, child care.

Not that I'm not grateful to be able to do those things, especially the child care.  Especially in light of Newtown.

But I was pulled from a warm coffee shop where I was about to order a cafe latte and then sit down with it and write with it, only to then stand alone in a cold park, shivering and waiting, for 45 minutes.
Going out to dinner and holiday window watching was also canceled.  Which is JUST FINE!  See how mature I am?

So I had to cobble together an eat-at-home dinner.  I diced one onion and two sad looking sweet potatoes and made home fries, threw in some kale.  Fried some eggs.  That was dinner.

Then I took everything off the cluttered table and scrubbed the table, and only put about half of the stuff back on.  Threw out some cards from Xmas '10 and '11.  Maybe even '09.

During this, the child who had needed care earlier fell asleep--a rare spontaneous nap.  When she woke, she thought it was the next day, 7:00 am.  "I need breakfast," she said.  She got it.

Working It: Monday through Tuesday

I loved this Monday morning commuter, headed off to work? The fact that she wore two layered bags--
one gold, one orange, AND glitter hot pants--delighted me endlessly.  Plus, she had fluffy robin's egg blue gloves.

The best thing that happened today is that I put some cool stuff in a story and took some kind of lame stuff out, considered sending the story to Prairie Schooner, but then thought I'd look at it again.

Plus, at this mornings yoga the teacher played a lot of Animal Collective.  Not that I'm a huge fan, but she was excited about going to the AC show tonight, and I liked that energy.

Later, I found a pleather dress (which I will wear as a jumper due to my advanced age) on sale at HM.  I'm wearing it now, trying to make it work.

Me, later, trying to inject some fun into Monday

Clean, Well-Lighted Places

I was very happy to see that my bike shop finally got their adjacent coffee shop open.  From the outside, it looks like a spacious, low key place where I can write and grade.  I didn't have time to lock up and go in, but I'll let you know.

I look forward to little openings in my city, new spaces--clean, well-lighted places where a girl can sit among her fellow humans and maybe channel something worth putting on the page.

Something to look forward to and meditate on in the face of a possible bad outcome in the presidential election AND a possible "perfect storm" that may be hitting my city.

Kind Words/Good Soup

I started the day with some good meetings and kind words.  Our family afterward convened along the counter at B&H.  Four adjacent counter seats?  A miracle.  This was the first hot borscht of the season.  Look--cabbage!

This week, I teach two one-shot classes.  Why am I so anxious?

Legwear:  New grey tights

Looking forward to:  Writing in Croissanteria for the very first time.
Looking forward to:  Wearing my new silver tights (if it's cool enough--if I'M cool enough)

Inspiration:  Family members getting work done.
Inspiration:  The music of Bonnie Prince Billy

Still basking in the Tea Party afterglow

What I Was Doing When You Were in Your Leopard-Skin Print Dress

After school, S and I attended the opening day of this new croissant cafe!  Another place to write and grade.  

L, the fact that we have only two computers (one near death) and four people is a real prob.  (Also, no TV, so one of the computers serves as that.)

So, last night--no blogging.  Today, I'll blog twice.

So, I hope you read this, L.

Last night, S and I went to Cocoa Bar for the free Internet so she could watch a show on this computer.    (Our Internet was spotty.)  I wrote in the candlelit dark in a notebook.

As I wrote, I wondered if my friends in Salt Lake City were having a good time at Dennis' art show.

Shelley and I texted back and forth.  NYC to PDX.

I also wondered what it may have been like to attend my high school reunion taking place last night in this place.  I've never been to a single reunion.  Have you?

At home, I crawled into my bed.  It had been a long week, but not the longest week I've had recently.  To rest my aching, typing hands I read:  Michael Chabon's new novel about a record store in Berkeley and Jonathan Lethem's novel about a former child stare living on residuals in NYC while his astronaut girlfriend endlessly orbits the earth.

I was not wearing a leopard-skin print dress.  I was not wearing anything worth writing about at all.

Dressed for Class

My very full week is drawing to a close.  This week, I taught a slew of one-shot classes in four days, which feels weird and kind of overwhelming as a part-timer.   Today class was great, actually--amazing students, and a crazy, almost haphazard energy.  I feel like we all learned something and got inspired.  I haven't had so much fun in a pedagogical setting in a good long time. (Was it because my hot pink tights were making their seasonal debut?)

After work, I biked to my favorite cafe to get in a bit of writing.  I don't know what's going on in the city right now, but the cafe was rife-ish with the kind of young hip new media/fashion types you always see featured in Interview and/or New York magazine.  I was intially visually dazzled by them, but then they opened their mouths and started talking and the dazzle--Lara--it faded.  I don't want to be judge-y, but it did make me feel like my life wasn't so dull in comparison (except for maybe visually).  Half were Brits or pretending to be.

It's why I appreciated this young woman dressed for class in a vintage dress and a pair of basic black tights. 

On the way home, we passed this excellent Halloween window, complete with a fashionable mummy and a heartbreakingly small, lovely vintage casket.

Lara, wishing I were in Southern Utah!

Shards of Day and Night--A List

1.  I'm going into a work place everyday now for the first time since 1998.  It's weird and tiring, but now I'm like most Americans with jobs, and I'm glad I have jobs.

2.  My middle school kid needs me more than ever, so the time I have to myself has narrowed to small shards.  

3.  This afternoon, a woman asked me for money, saying she had diabetes.

4.  It was a beautiful day.  In fact, all of our days have been beautiful.  I've been trying to enjoy what I can.

5.  Next door, a van unloaded case after case of PBR.  A truck pulled up, it's bed piled high with bags of ice.

6.  Tonight, next door, there was a line snaking around the block for an event--the premiere of a snow boarding movie.  Lots of kids bolting down the dark street on skateboards.  Papparazzi, for some reason.

7.  When we took a night walk, another different woman asked for money, telling me she was three months pregnant AND had diabetes.  She showed me something she said was a diabetes kit, which made me even more skeptical.  I don't know what to believe, but I gave her a dollar.  I just don't want to be lied to.  Kind of an unsatisfying, disconcerting ending to my day.

Ersatz Cafe Review

I actually have no idea what to post right now.

It's been a sweaty day wherein not much got done.

There has been much interacting with screens.

Right now, the offspring are throwing a ball in our small living area.

Earlier, I wrote something in a place I love to go to, so that was good.  This place, Prima (by Prune), has become my favorite writing place during the week--big open tables, hardly anyone there, good drink, decent although limited pastries, good music, a friendly bearded guy running the counter--he brought me water when I didn't even ask for it.

They clear all of this stuff for the morn/afternoon computer users.

Afterwards, S and I walked over to Soho to retrieve my bike.  On the way back we got some groceries and ran into an old friend who invited to dinner!

We really needed to be saved from ourselves.

Big Open Writing Spaces

I don't know why.  I can't write at home.  I've never been able to.  I'm easily distracted by what I'm too familiar, I suppose.  For years, I've written outside of my home, mostly in cafes.  I've spent thousands of dollars, no doubt, since I was an undergrad reading/writing/doing homework in cafes.  And that's probably really dumb, although I can feel proud about supporting my local small businesses.  The story I'm writing today has to do with someone opening a cafe in Provo, and students using it to work in.  Clearly, I'm obsessed.

I also don't like going back to the same cafe, for fear the staff will tire of me?  Not sure.  

This morning, I wrote morning pages on the bench outside of Organic Avenue and drank the above pictured turmeric elixir.  

Later, after doing this YouTube yoga video (good narrative, good lighting, no distracting crashing waves, and not too easy or hard!  I recommend!):

I took my computer to the New Museum lobby pictured below.  After I wrote for awhile, my kid showed up and we took in their new exhibit.  Tonight there's a member's party to which I've been invited.  I'm not going, however, because all guests are required to wear white (it's called White Party)--and "festive white," and I don't own a single thing in white, let alone festive . . . other than my boxed up wedding dress which is hundreds of miles away.  All those white clad guests will look luminous against all the white art and video streams, however.

This quinoa and dark chocolate cookie promised to be better than it was.

Cakeshop's Tight Place

Doughnut benches at the Doughnut Plant

 I started the day at the DP writing morning pages.  You can see I'm wearing a polka dot dress AGAIN!  And I picked up a free copy of Edible Manhattan.

Shopping cart art!

 On the way, home I passed this artfully augmented shopping cart.  It's like Olek revised, or alternate-universe Olek--a yarning of the empty spaces the shopping cart makes instead of yarning the object itself.  Negative space, valued and defined.  Okay, I'll shut up now.

Where else am I going to see ELO covers?

 Later, I ended up at Cakeshop, which is in a super tight place and hopefully they'll be able to get out of it!  (By the way, Lara and I discussed our respective cake fetishes today, which interests me greatly now as it's my birthday month.)  Re, Cakeshop, however, you should watch this:


I do what I can for Cakeshop.   It's still one of my favorite places to write.

I also love Cakeshops broke down furniture.

Post as Inspiration Board

I spotted this gal this morning after work writing with intensity in a bound notebook, similar to my AW notebook.  Do you think she was writing morning pages?  And don't you love her shoes??

Later on in the day, I tried out a cafe called Lost Weekend.  I'd never been before and had always been a little intimidated by the cool kids hanging out outside.  Inside it's one large airy room, one side decorated with stacks of well placed teeshirts and board shorts.  The one community table there features a big coffee table book on the history of surfing (see the page I liked below).  On one wall surfing videos are projected. 

Not tights, but magnificent legwear anyway.

 The barista at Lost Weekend wore a super cute summer pencil skirt, which you can really see here.

 

Lastly, Dana Spiotta's novel about a difficult singer songwriter and the sister who supports and worries about him has a cool new cover on the paperback version.  (I saw it at the bookstore today.)  Last year, I bought and read a (signed!!) copy of the hard cover version for my birthday month.  This reminds me that this morning I put up a review on Goodreads.  Finally!  Was it a result of AW?  I don't know, but reading the work of other librarians recently makes me think I've got to ratchet it up.  I don't know if Goodreads qualifies as a "ratchet."

Lara, this post, I was thinking, is kind of a little visual inspiration board (or bored, perhaps), probably not quite a shrine.  It was a good day for images; at least I think so.