everything was beautiful at the ballet...

Mikhail Baryshnikov...Misha...is 77 today...in my mind, the greatest male dancer in my lifetime...in my teens I became interested in ballet...not to become a ballerina...although I did dance in local theater productions...and stretched at the barre in dance studios my freshman year of college...but to watch productions in all their glory...my Aunt Harriet and Uncle Godfrey took me to my first ballet...1975...Rudolf Nureyev...I was hooked...thank goodness for PBS...and their ballet broadcasts in the 70s...in 1977, like many others, I saw "The Turning Point"...11 Oscar noms...no wins...despite the glory of Shirley MacLaine and Anne Bancroft...but the dancing...and Misha...to say I was a fan...understatement...I wrote a poem about his dancing...back when my poems rhymed...and sent it to him care of American Ballet Theater...and one day, as I dug my hand into our mailbox...face swollen after getting two wisdom teeth pulled...there it was...a letter thanking me for the poem...signed by him...I thought I was dreaming...that is was the painkillers...oh, it was real...and sadly, lost over the years of moving and packing and life...as well as the only copy of the poem!...(I do remember a lot of it, just don't ask what I had for dinner yesterday)...my college years...I tried to see one performance of every ballet company...Martha Graham...Joffrey...Twyla Tharp...and then for my twenty-first birthday...American Ballet Theater...a gift from my mom and dad...featured dancer - Misha...pure magic...a few years later I was meeting a friend in Times Square...we were going to see "Flashdance"...as I stood waiting, I saw Misha walk by me...I followed to see where he was going...ran back...found my friend...a dance fanatic as well...we raced into the restaurant where he had gone...we sat at the bar trying to figure out how to say hello...I came up with the idea to send a glass of wine to his table...the waiter screwed up and did it while my friend had gone to the restroom...I'm not sure she forgave me...but when the waiter put that glass down...and pointed to me...my knees turned to Jello...he stood up and raised the glass to toast me...the bartender whispered..."go over there"...but I couldn't...I just smiled...all eyes now on me...that was a lifetime ago...and what a career he has had...and continues to have...artists...and art...they save us...illuminate our life when it is dark...teach us the possibilities...so, thank you Misha...for what your art has given this, at times, broken world...what it's given me...and maybe tonight I'll pour a White Russian at dinner...

Defying brevity...

I wanted to love Wicked...the Broadway musical...and I liked it...but it was uneven...and suffered to a degree with the same problem of Les Miserables...what to do with Act II when the "11 o'clock number"...in this case, "Defying Gravity" (now, on repeat ad nauseum at a Target near you)...ends Act I???...which in the movie version comes after almost 2 hours and 40 minutes...the movie which is Part I...why?...what happened to less is more...is this what happens when the almighty dollar rules?...now, I will admit I was hesitant to see this Wicked...and by the way...this is not a kids movie...the musical never claimed to be for kids either...it left that to the Disney side of Times Square...but this movie is being marketed that way...for fuck's sake...this Wizard is like the Joseph Mengele of Oz...and this is unfair to the revelation of the darker side and sadness of Elphaba...and the evolving friendship of Elphaba and Galinda...which is the essence of the movie  and is quiet moving...kudos to Cynthia...and I will, begrudgingly admit, Ariana who is quite "grande" in this role...but director Jon Chu couldn't leave that subtlety alone...he had to insert over the top numbers and kitschiness..."One Short Day'' which introduces us to the Emerald City looks like it was lifted from Crazy Rich Asians...but I digress...I could not help but think about The Wizard of Oz...made in 1939...it was not the first color movie...but rather the first movie where color...and the use of black and white and sepia for contrast...carried the vision of the director...all that served to support Dorothy's search for more than she realized...it was the emotions this elicited that allowed its audience to feel...to cry ...which immortalized it...I wanted to cry during Wicked...it almost had me...but all that glitters is not always golden...(and everyone over the age of 5 who saw The Wizard of Oz knew that Glinda was the bitch)...

"the women gather"...

Nikki Giovanni died last week...one of my favorite poets...I happened to catch the last half hour of the 2023 documentary "Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project" the other night on HBO...it left me smiling for a while...there are words that dance on the page...but hearing them read aloud is other worldly...being a writer...a poet...reading other works...loving other poets...that's a tricky thing...there's always that fine line between admiration and subconscious regurgitation...because isn't all creativity new interpretation of basic tenets?...2024 is winding down...slipping, not so quietly, in early sunsets and winter winds...and there isn't just a weather-related drought here in New York...I have been feeling it acutely in my writing...or lack thereof...this year, the world and life stole my creative thunder...many times...we seem to feel those empty chairs at the table more acutely as the candles mount on our birthday cakes...makes me think of another favorite poet...Mary Oliver...who seamlessly wove the innate fear of mortality into exquisite thoughts on nature and earthly delights...and that is the real beauty in poetry...reading, and thinking - yes, I feel that too!...here's hoping that there are more poems inside me...that life gives me the grace to voice them...and for the end of this year I leave you with the closing line of my favorite Nikki poem, The Women Gather..."it is not unusual to sift through the ashes and find an unburnt picture"...

I'm only happy when it rains...

well...I actually don't love the rain...but after weeks of nothing more than a drizzle...and living less than two miles from Eisenhower Park...all 930 flammable acres of it...I find myself looking a few times a day at the long-range forecast...nada...blue skies and sun...good hair days...but if this keeps up will there be water to wash it?...no rain...I promised when I started this that I would talk about the drought...but really the only thing falling from the sky is the shitstorm from Mar-a-Lago...grab 'em young Gaetz for attorney general...Madam Defarge...oops Wiles for chief of staff...RFK Jr...worm for brain for health and human services...Hegseth...is it Hegseth and the Angry inch?...doesn't want women in the military...will he sit across from Tulsi in meetings...she, national intelligence...an oxymoron...she who did serve...how will that play...and Stefanik...she can get off her knees now...she apparently has another job to do...JD Vance wrote the forward for Kevin Roberts' new book...Roberts...Heritage Foundation president...you know that little Project 2025 which no one says they know anything about...I just can't anymore...I am not surprised...i knew Trump would win for a long time...the Democrats are due for a major overhaul...Biden's deal with us was one term...not quite...2024 election...he said he was running...uh, shuffling...until the debate debacle...but without a proper primary it all stank to the heavens...and to the public...the Democrats didn't get it in 2020 when Harris was elevated to the ticket over Klobuchar...they need to get their heads out of the sand...actually out of the coasts...and realize the vast space between and run a candidate accordingly...fixing things is not running a vice presidential candidate like Walz...who looks like he stepped out of an Alexander Payne movie...as an afterthought...because running the more qualified Jewish candidate would offend...omg please have the party grow a pair...after this clown car implodes...Kinzinger and Cheney might be waiting in the wings to mop up...who will be there to meet them...shake hands and debate...with substance and not faux fear...

OMG

OMG...the hit song from Mets Jose Iglesias became the rallying battle cry from that other team from New York...the NY Mets...the team that should have been golfing in October...and almost gave us another miracle during these sweet days of Indian summer...it got me thinking and remembering...1969...P.S. 115 in Canarsie...boys sneaking transistor radios into school...playing them in the deep recesses of those old public school desks...1986...the doors opening at Queensboro Plaza...the old R and 7 exchange...people yelling..."what's the score???"...and other years but no prize at the end of some spectacular seasons...these last few weeks, we could taste it...Eric Adams was praising the Lord...a subway series would mean his shambles of an administration would move several pegs down the news cycle...he's crying this morning...and so are Mets fans...tears of disappointment...but joy...in the scrappy team from Queens that gave us a welcome respite from the world which is harsh and bitter these days...a break from relentless political ads which assault my brain cells...in the lies...and also, the bad writing...it made me realize that when you are in the stands cheering for your team...in any sport...that person next to you jumping and yelling is your best friend for a few hours...there are no political lines or gender lines or color lines or all in between...you are kindred spirits...and all is right with the world...until you sit for hours trying to get on the Grand Central...but seriously...there is no greater escape and happiness than in being a fan...and if you are a true fan...you wait with silent anticipation for February...for pitchers and catchers reporting to spring training...to start that fire within...a new season...a new chance...cheering on your team...high fiving new friends on that stroll into Citi Field...you're a Mets fan...patience is your middle name...

free falling

most people my age who are still blessed to have parents in their lives, repeat one mantra to them at all times...don't fall, don't fall, don't fall...repercussions can be life altering...so there I was...Friday the 13th....enjoying lunch at a nice restaurant with my friend...we were laughing, having a "ladies who lunch moment"...as opposed to the daily "ladies who work, worry and schlep moment"...we got up to leave...and I, remembering my mantra...tucked in the 3,000 pound fairly ugly modern chair as I made my way around the table...at least that was the plan...apparently one leg of said chair was not tucked...challenged my right foot and sent me free falling forward to the ground...and most of me landed on my left knee...the same poor knee that has survived four, count 'em, arthroscopies...cortisone shots...and many rounds of PT over the last twenty years...the knee pronounced not replacement material...I felt panic and my lunch in my throat...thankfully, an employee gingerly got me into a chair, ice appeared from the kitchen...I was able to walk...made it to my car...my friend at my side...made it home...Advil and ice...later orthopedic urgent care...no breaks...a contusion...and I hope that is it...most of you know...you hold your breath after a fall like that...because the real damage is not always obvious...but I am hoping...bargaining with the man upstairs...it's been a shit year in many ways for this family...let this just be a bruised knee and ego...as the knee gives me the middle finger every morning...reminding me I am alive...reminding me to go through life...one step at a time...and watch the chairs...

Unconventional thinking...

as summer slipped into its last month...we had our country's second convention...now, we know each side has lambasted the other's candidates...speakers...delegates...slogans...intent...ad nauseum...but one thing is certain for both sides...there is fatigue behind all those smiles...not the kind that comes from too much after hours partying in Milwaukee or Chicago...no, it is a weariness from years of distrust...distaste...dishonesty...most Americans politically align one way or the other...but these days...the political construct leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth...allowing for left and right extremism...in this respect, the United States is not alone...we can see it in election cycles worldwide...and with this eerie shift...if we are now in this century's "roaring twenties"...are we headed to the authoritarian thirties, part 2?...as for the conventions...when watching them...and I did...well, one more than the other...I often found myself most immersed in the everyday citizens who were asked to speak...their stories were genuine...sincere...a rare political commodity...but this election cycle I find my enthusiasm has been curbed...sidelined by this nation's growing pains...hopefully a "midlife crisis" not a death knell...so, I wait for these last August sunsets...and strangely think of Jimmy Carter...his upcoming 100th birthday this October...and his determination to vote this November...to plant that seed like the good farmer he was...and me...I'm hoping for some inspiration...hope