the cane mutiny

the title of this blog was originally going to be 248499...that number would be belted out in full Les Miz style by Jean Valjean...Hugh Jackman for my movie people, Colm Wilkinson for my Broadway babies...the number was assigned to me two weeks ago when I checked into the Hospital for Special Surgery for routine left knee arthroscopy...the poor left knee that has seen this before and decided to act up with zest the last few months...when told of a new treatment where your own stem cells are injected during surgery I thought...well, maybe this will help...I pulled the trigger and scheduled quickly figuring with Lauren's September wedding fast approaching I would have time to be back and ready to party...now how does that expression go...people make plans and G-d laughs!...a few days after the surgery I noticed increasing pain in the left calf...I was already in PT and they worked on it...but for good measure they told me to watch it...and I knew what they were thinking...two days later my calf was bruising and swelling...and I was promptly sent for an ultrasound...and thankfully there was no DVT...but a substantial hematoma...by the end of the week by calf looked like it had gone for a few rounds with Rocky and Paulie in a meat locker...you know that pain chart scale...1-10...I was off the chart...that cane that I came home with was my best friend...I was in constant contact with my surgeon's physican's assistant...to this day I have not heard directly from the surgeon...anyone surprised?...this week there was another sonogram...a ruptured cyst at the back of the left knee drained...and then being told that the fluid in my calf was dispersed throughout the tissue...no pocket to drain...and so I am wearing a leg sleeve designed by Josef Mengele...compressing to get the swelling and bruising to dissipate...elevating the leg...watching May fade away and hoping for relief...glad that the dress I bought for the shower is nice and long!...time to get the ice bags out...again...and hope this is only one day more!

plagues and prose

it's National Poetry month...yea!...a whole month to read the beautiful works of poets long gone and some just cresting the literary surface...and to be reminded that I am not writing much these days...and not too pleased about it...and tonight Passover begins...and so, as I observe commuting, and life in general, these April days, there are new plagues upon us...and so I bring you the new 10 plagues...10) construction...in the subway stations...one day a staircase is there...one day you're walking into a wall...not metaphorically...alternating almost daily...just to keep you on your toes...9) rolling luggage...tourist season...I'm home from college season...the wheels never roll on a fucking piece of Samsonite season...all zig zagging in front of you while attempting to make the train season...8) pasty leg season...that first and only 70+ day of sunshine and your legs look like two loaves of moldy Wonder bread...you roast in jeans...7) Citi Bikes...and the people who use them...riding against traffic...through red lights...without helmets...in flip flops...what could go wrong? 6) going to that play or musical with anticipation...smile on your face...then...Times Square...ten million people...all looking up...not moving...and four thousand fondle-me Elmo's...after which you watch "The Deuce" and become wistfully nostalgic for the old scuzzy Times Square of days gone by...5) walking on Fifth and no longer seeing Lord & Taylor...dreaming of Christmas windows...then seeing so many empty store fronts in Manhattan...a shiver runs through you in the spring breeze...4) this one, specific to LIRR riders...third rail construction...parking lots closing...months of crap coming...oh, and some fare hikes...3) Lori Loughlin's smirk 2) urinetown...aka NYC...an endless stream of consciously ignoring quality of life by the powers that be...and 1) true story...#1 train uptown to Penn this week...holding onto a center pole...two men sitting and chatting in front of me...and then I hear it...not once...not twice...but at least three times with full butt lift...farts to end all farts...everyone sits motionless...but you look at each other...oh yeah...gotta love NY...it's a gas, gas, gas...

Schticks and stones...

I was watching a movie the other day...from the eighties...comedy...I probably knew more than half the dialogue...certainly all the punch lines...and as I watched I realized...quite sadly...that the same movie could never get past go these days...it would never be financed...never open in movies theaters nationwide...ah, political correctness...which when it crept into the corners of our society years ago was actually quite necessary...but now it has rendered us mute and frozen...we stop writing, afraid to offend...we become shrill...defensive...and humorless...were we always so insensitive...did our laughs come at the expense of others...uh, yes...if you did laugh did that make you a bigot...you probably would say of course not...but isn't everybody...even just a bit...laughing when we shouldn't because of unease of what we don't know or understand...can you laugh at yourself...at "your own people" as easily...I remember the old line that sometimes it is best if the joke you tell is only about yourself, or "your own people"...but are we only safe if we stay in our own lanes...where does that leave us in this rich melting pot that is our country...there is a scene in Spike Lee's insightful and incendiary "Do The Right Thing" where the characters...each a different racial or ethnic group...face the camera and hurl every slur they can at each other...kind of harsh and cathartic in bizarre fashion...I wonder sometimes...next time there is a national debate...let them all yell at each other...all that bile and distaste...get it out...pause...laugh at the absurdity...shake hands with meaning...and get the hell on with it...just thinking...

February made me shiver...

the sky was brilliantly blue today...sun so bright the sunglasses didn't cut it...it was a sky that made you feel life was ripe with possibilities...of course, I felt like a strapped-in mummy in the driver's seat...mummified in a down coat, scarf, gloves...ah, the trappings of a February chill...tomorrow, we slide into March...I am twitching as a remember what happened last winter...we sailed, save a January storm...and then it hit...the dreaded word on Long Island...four weeks in a row...Nor'easter...I whisper a prayer to the weather gods...please, no repeat...because my sallow complexion and flaking skin are crying for spring...I figure with the wind earlier this week...the one where we felt we were up in the cyclone with Dorothy...yeah, that one...well, that's it, we got all of March in two days...bring on early spring...I want to smell the leaves in bloom...send the coats and wool off to the cleaners...banish the boots...I sink into the couch with a cup of tea...ready for the torment of the news...but I daydream...tulips...and realize...that we will all be wearing green, and trudging through snow and rain in a few weeks...such is the way winter plays it last hand...the countdown starts...ignore Lee Goldberg's forecast...and pray Lonnie doesn't roll up his damned sleeves on Channel 2!!!

Ratatouille...

ok, so I've been slacking off on the blogposts...and the poetry...officially, a writer's slump...except kvetching to newspaper and magazine editors...that garners response...some published...but it's not where I want to be, from a writing standpoint...bleh...we are deep in winter...spring, not so close...and we are sliding towards the Oscars...yawn...after 9 billion awards shows, it's hard to muster enthusiasm...but going to the movies...nestling in as the lights dim...that is still my sweet spot...and so, I generally catch up with movies at the AMC that's literally within walking distance...especially with the weekday morning special of $6 and change...but the theater is rundown...there have been rumors for years that it will close...that if AMC moves forward into the yet to be approved and started entertainment complex at Nassau Coliseum...it will certainly shutter the dumpy multiplex by me...and there we were two weeks ago...on the weekend in theater 10, "On the Basis of Sex"...an earnest, yet strangely forgettable movie that should have been a September release so it wouldn't get trampled in the Oscar stampede...I digress...I was seated on the aisle...the theater smelled...not pleasant...more like eau de penn station mixed with stale popcorn...about 30 minutes before the movie ended, I thought I saw a shadow move in the aisle, towards the screen...nah...and then again...wait, was it Ratso Rizzo...Willard...Ben...omg...my pulse raced...with 5 minutes to go, I whispered to Mike...I think there are rats here...the credits rolled and we ran...ew...ew...ew...I called the AMC the next day and spoke to the 12 year old manager who was stunned...or high...I called the Nassau County Board of Health the next business day...they took all the information...and called me back a week later to inform me there was an abundance of evidence from their little stop at the theater...gross...how this resolves, who knows...but I am sad...I drive by and the movies call me...but not enough to squat in a ripped chair waiting for the carpet to move below...but really, what I want to know...are those little guys running underfoot AMC stubs members?...just asking for a friend!

a day in the life...

I read the news today, oh boy...and had to share it with those I knew from way back when...NYU days...School of the Arts days..before there was Tisch...when classes and studios were in an old shitty building called "South Building"...where we joked that the tv studio equipment looked like it was dropped out of a plane...when film students bowed at the Scorsese shrine...way back before the Village and Soho became high-end shopping grounds...when you knew exactly where the back entrance to Chumley's was...when the bathroom was unisex at McSorley's...and when we were impossibly young...blessed with many talented professors, some not that much older than us...and so when I saw that obituary...Mark Chernichaw...there was a catch in my throat...my advisor...my teacher...my friend...I remember his laugh...his caring...I remember him barely holding back the tears as we sat around the morning after John Lennon was murdered...yes, way back when...before we became numb to murder and loss...and how in that morning I saw him as a peer...and it was awesome...such is the grace of creativity...with the torch passing forward again and again...I think of his family and I am truly sad for their loss...but I cannot picture as he was now only then...and when I think of him...that time in my life...I remember with joy how I was then...art pooling at my feet and the world opening wide and bright...and for that I thank you, Mark, quite deeply...rest in peace...

let's talk turkey

I think turkey may be the only thing left we can talk about...well, that and that latest episode of (fill in the blank)...not NY sports...there ain't enough Zantac for Giants and Jets fans...Mets fans have to bite nails thinking about losing Syndergaard...which according to Mike, unless the trade would involve Hank Aaron, well you get it...we could spend three minutes discussing the weather...and whether we should kill all the weather forecasters...the divide is deep...it could easily rip down the middle of your beautifully set table today...so on this day...this Thanksgiving day...perhaps we need to look inside and what drives the divide...and mostly it is fear...fear of random violence...it is all we see and hear...it moves closer and no longer sits at the proverbial six degrees of separation...it is fear of losing that job...that check...the one thing that might separate you from that guy sprawled at the bottom of the subway stairs in Penn Station...or maybe you are getting older...seeing it all from new perspective...and your deepest fear is that there might be fewer hands to grasp around your bountiful table next year...so let's skip over the intensely politically incorrectness of a holiday rooted in the premise of how happy the Indians were that we took their magnificent land, trashed it, pushed them to near extinction, left them on reservations...ahem...let's just give thanks for what is around our table...and if the conversation gets heated...turn on the tv...turn up the game...pass the stuffing....Happy Thanksgiving!