4/23/23
Manhattan in the Spring. April 2023
The Park and Upper Manhattan. Where I resided in 1986. So wonderful to visit.
4/17/23
43 McPherson
My former home, the love of my life, is being rehabbed. It sold in 1992 and I landed on Don't Cry for Me, Juniata!
I drove down the wide street yesterday and met the contractors working on the house who offered a tour. It made me so happy to be back inside the mansion that I had loved so much. A rent free house for 13 years allowed me to travel extensively and reside in SF/Fairfax part time.
I drove down the wide street yesterday and met the contractors working on the house who offered a tour. It made me so happy to be back inside the mansion that I had loved so much. A rent free house for 13 years allowed me to travel extensively and reside in SF/Fairfax part time.
3/19/23
3/12/23
I was a Cook for The Black Panthers Party Free Breakfast Program
1972-73. My first year of college. I resided in Soulard on Geyer with three friends/roommates.
I'd been volunteering for four years. I coordinated a food co-op when I was 19 in Midtown on Folsom. Prior to that I was volunteering at KDNA radio on Olive.
St Stephen's CHurch in the Darst-Peabody-Webbe Housing Project housed the BPPs program.
The connected school had a cafeteria. I was a cook for many months.
The mission of the program was to provide school age (and younger) children with hot meals prior to school.
Tired looking mothers would arrive with their children at 7 am.
I cooked scrambled eggs. Oats. Pancakes. I served the food.
I had three objections.
1: I had been recruited to volunteer by a woman who was a student at WU. She would pick me up in her Saab since I didn't own a car.
I was embarrassed to exit her car in D-P-W.
2: It was obvious the mothers were also hungry. They stared at the food. When I mentioned this to the Saab woman she told me they weren't allowed to have any food. I regret not arguing this point.
3: The Saab woman would read The BPP paper out loud to the mothers. I cringed in embarrassment when I realized she assumed they were all illiterate.
I'd been volunteering for four years. I coordinated a food co-op when I was 19 in Midtown on Folsom. Prior to that I was volunteering at KDNA radio on Olive.
St Stephen's CHurch in the Darst-Peabody-Webbe Housing Project housed the BPPs program.
The connected school had a cafeteria. I was a cook for many months.
The mission of the program was to provide school age (and younger) children with hot meals prior to school.
Tired looking mothers would arrive with their children at 7 am.
I cooked scrambled eggs. Oats. Pancakes. I served the food.
I had three objections.
1: I had been recruited to volunteer by a woman who was a student at WU. She would pick me up in her Saab since I didn't own a car.
I was embarrassed to exit her car in D-P-W.
2: It was obvious the mothers were also hungry. They stared at the food. When I mentioned this to the Saab woman she told me they weren't allowed to have any food. I regret not arguing this point.
3: The Saab woman would read The BPP paper out loud to the mothers. I cringed in embarrassment when I realized she assumed they were all illiterate.
I was thinking about several life events this morning as I mentally reviewed the horror of the 60s/70s.
3/9/23
3/6/23
3/2/23
2/23/23
pUZZlE PaLaCE
Aha!
I discovered this box on the kitchen table this morning.
1) I love Roman keys. Some things never go out of use.
2) I love these physical puzzles.
These puzzles are such a mediative process but a bit easy.
Thanks to my man upstairs who's been dragging the night shift for 3 years. Science never sleeps.
If you like investigative reporting and being terrified read The Puzzle Palace.
I discovered this box on the kitchen table this morning.
1) I love Roman keys. Some things never go out of use.
2) I love these physical puzzles.
These puzzles are such a mediative process but a bit easy.
Thanks to my man upstairs who's been dragging the night shift for 3 years. Science never sleeps.
If you like investigative reporting and being terrified read The Puzzle Palace.
2/22/23
The End
The evening lurched against me, dropped, and pooled at my ankles.
This is inky business. Sometimes so crushed we don't know we are in pain.
Drenched with night as I listened to a woman pretend she will continue. Broken with terror. My teeth just gritty.
She extends her empty hands and I understand her. We were both drafts.
She was never meant to be. And now. Here.
She/Who loved me.
Said. You/Who are the original. (see/who, she/who was proud of She/Me.
Almost eved at multiples. It was She/Who. Gave heart, ate heart, shattered.
What's in my/me heart I/me didn't put there.
Who/She knows that my/mine sister knows. Ask. She/Who too broken with teeth,grit.
This is inky business. Sometimes so crushed we don't know we are in pain.
Drenched with night as I listened to a woman pretend she will continue. Broken with terror. My teeth just gritty.
She extends her empty hands and I understand her. We were both drafts.
She was never meant to be. And now. Here.
She/Who loved me.
Said. You/Who are the original. (see/who, she/who was proud of She/Me.
Almost eved at multiples. It was She/Who. Gave heart, ate heart, shattered.
What's in my/me heart I/me didn't put there.
Who/She knows that my/mine sister knows. Ask. She/Who too broken with teeth,grit.
I was skating in a memory will listening to The End by the first Goth Band, The Doors.
2/12/23
Bellie. 2015
Belle is ambitious and has developed an interest in archaeology.
Her recent dig went so deep I could only see her wagging tail.
In the hole she experiences rabid abandonment, a gleefulness usually manifested in a younger dog but when she was younger she was forced to be a mother at a camp.
Now puppyness is a frolicsome adventure of slinging mud about the yard while killing the hostas and gentle ferns.
There's something down there she must have possess.
Perhaps a lost marble shooter. A snoozing beetle. Certainly not a forgotten bone from the other dogs, no, they were mannered and did not dirty their paws.
When called Belle rapidly ascends, glances at the yard, gets her bearings, jumps the steps and flies through the door into my arms.
She reeks and is dirty this little smelly Bellie.
Her recent dig went so deep I could only see her wagging tail.
In the hole she experiences rabid abandonment, a gleefulness usually manifested in a younger dog but when she was younger she was forced to be a mother at a camp.
Now puppyness is a frolicsome adventure of slinging mud about the yard while killing the hostas and gentle ferns.
There's something down there she must have possess.
Perhaps a lost marble shooter. A snoozing beetle. Certainly not a forgotten bone from the other dogs, no, they were mannered and did not dirty their paws.
When called Belle rapidly ascends, glances at the yard, gets her bearings, jumps the steps and flies through the door into my arms.
She reeks and is dirty this little smelly Bellie.
2/8/23
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