Flee Market 39th Street NYC
Originally uploaded by Charlie Roberts
Thursday, September 30, 2010
WEST OF TENTH
My sister and I say goodbye to my brother at the ferry dock on the Hudson River and West 40th Street.
When my family says goodbye, we stare at our shoes and watches. Someone might snap a picture (of a bird or a train, never a group shot). We kill time and linger (by the car or train or bus) in somber silence.
When it's time to go, there's the awkward embrace, the required "I'll see you at Christmas or in the Spring". Often, the one leaving will sound their car horn - a jolly, disowning "honk! honk!" But after that (after they are really gone) the remaining family will glare at the empty void where the car or train had been and wallow in the melancholy maw - restraining (just enough) to repress feelings of abandonment and loneliness.
This ritual came about by my father's taciturn ambivalence toward his children. He wanted us to go, but when the time came, it was too painful for him to have us actually leave. And so he would simply give in to the dismal walk to the car, the quiet sadness would begin; all nasty remarks and rebukes forgotten, and my father's pained look was solid evidence that although he was made irate by our politics, he couldn't bear to be without us.
But when Car leaves my apartment on Monday morning, she slips out like she'll be back in fifteen with milk for coffee. This is a relief (to me) but also kind of a cheat.
We've spent the past 36 hours, mostly in my apartment, at the very far end of West 42nd Street (not exactly Hell Kitchen, not exactly Clinton - what is it? West of Tenth, WOT). We have wandered at twilight down the Hudson River Park and had dinner at Chelsea Piers.
The next morning we had coffee and cupcakes at the Cupcake Cafe on Ninth Avenue for my birthday.
When my family says goodbye, we stare at our shoes and watches. Someone might snap a picture (of a bird or a train, never a group shot). We kill time and linger (by the car or train or bus) in somber silence.
When it's time to go, there's the awkward embrace, the required "I'll see you at Christmas or in the Spring". Often, the one leaving will sound their car horn - a jolly, disowning "honk! honk!" But after that (after they are really gone) the remaining family will glare at the empty void where the car or train had been and wallow in the melancholy maw - restraining (just enough) to repress feelings of abandonment and loneliness.
This ritual came about by my father's taciturn ambivalence toward his children. He wanted us to go, but when the time came, it was too painful for him to have us actually leave. And so he would simply give in to the dismal walk to the car, the quiet sadness would begin; all nasty remarks and rebukes forgotten, and my father's pained look was solid evidence that although he was made irate by our politics, he couldn't bear to be without us.
But when Car leaves my apartment on Monday morning, she slips out like she'll be back in fifteen with milk for coffee. This is a relief (to me) but also kind of a cheat.
We've spent the past 36 hours, mostly in my apartment, at the very far end of West 42nd Street (not exactly Hell Kitchen, not exactly Clinton - what is it? West of Tenth, WOT). We have wandered at twilight down the Hudson River Park and had dinner at Chelsea Piers.
The next morning we had coffee and cupcakes at the Cupcake Cafe on Ninth Avenue for my birthday.
At the Cupcake, Car reads through early blog entries trying to help me visualize another form for the blog. A book? A memoir? A very long letter?
different beginning -- ease into it -- can you go back in time a little? Dont' write it yet -- I want to read through the whole thing to get a feel for how it should open
She jots this down on a computer post-it note,
________
________
________________
I tell Car, "Maybe I could find some old emails!"
"That's a great idea!"
I do a search of my yahoo emails from two years ago and find these.
_______________
I did a reading yesterday and the head of the theater (who I did not know) came up to me and started introducing me to the audience saying ,,, isn't he wonderful? Felt good.
I've been down to the wire on a few big spots.
But, I've had a terrible cold all week. AND there could be something seriously wrong with me and I do not say this lightly. BUT. I had blood tests and nothing showed up. I've been having problems with my walking, the "gait" of my walk feels weird. I cramp everywhere. My feet and legs feel like I ran a marathon, yesterday. I'm unsteady and I have fallen over a lot!
I have little tiny muscle spasms all over my body ... like little ripples on calm water. My toes move on their own. IT is WEIRD. I made an appointment to see the DR again. My hip joints ache. I have NO flexibility below the waist. I WAS tested for arthritis. Nothing showed up.
It seems manageable now. It could be just aging big time in a big chunk ... punishment for my marathons and bad shoes.
But. I have a little fire in me right now. So all is swell.
See you later-
But, I've had a terrible cold all week. AND there could be something seriously wrong with me and I do not say this lightly. BUT. I had blood tests and nothing showed up. I've been having problems with my walking, the "gait" of my walk feels weird. I cramp everywhere. My feet and legs feel like I ran a marathon, yesterday. I'm unsteady and I have fallen over a lot!
I have little tiny muscle spasms all over my body ... like little ripples on calm water. My toes move on their own. IT is WEIRD. I made an appointment to see the DR again. My hip joints ache. I have NO flexibility below the waist. I WAS tested for arthritis. Nothing showed up.
It seems manageable now. It could be just aging big time in a big chunk ... punishment for my marathons and bad shoes.
But. I have a little fire in me right now. So all is swell.
See you later-
Charlie
________________________
and this
______________________
Guess what.
It IS serious.
I'm having more blood tests and emg's Wednesday.
I took a train out to my sister's to get some comfort.
The doctor was grave.
He told me more than once that this is very serious.
The fact that it is bilateral is bad news.
He was going to list a bunch of diseases but I told him that I couldn't take it all in.
So I'm back to square one.
Charlie
It IS serious.
I'm having more blood tests and emg's Wednesday.
I took a train out to my sister's to get some comfort.
The doctor was grave.
He told me more than once that this is very serious.
The fact that it is bilateral is bad news.
He was going to list a bunch of diseases but I told him that I couldn't take it all in.
So I'm back to square one.
Charlie
__________________
After the Cupcake we buy a large yellow vintage distressed (way too distressed I realize when we get it home) chest of drawers at the 39th Street Flea Market.
After dinner, we go to a movie in the village, "Life During Wartime" which Car hated and I disliked.
Before she leaves the next morning, we rig a rope to the end of my bed because I'm finding it harder and harder to sit up. Car goes to a hardware store and comes back with an array of fixings; rope, a metal loop, bungee chords, gaffers tape. Car looks for sailor's knots online. Do I know any? she asks. I should. I'm supposed to be a sailor but nothing remains in my head.
After dinner, we go to a movie in the village, "Life During Wartime" which Car hated and I disliked.
Before she leaves the next morning, we rig a rope to the end of my bed because I'm finding it harder and harder to sit up. Car goes to a hardware store and comes back with an array of fixings; rope, a metal loop, bungee chords, gaffers tape. Car looks for sailor's knots online. Do I know any? she asks. I should. I'm supposed to be a sailor but nothing remains in my head.
Car leaves. Forty minutes later, my brother arrives.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
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