DIARY
Here, then, is the summary of last weekend.
Jess went out for dinner with her friends on Friday, while I finished reading Lisa’s work and much of what Reinhardt had sent me. (This break I’ve finally managed to catch up on much of the reading I promised I’d do for friends, though I still have a ways to go).
Lisa’s flight had been delayed several times due to Chicago blizzards, but she finally arrived at about nine. Jess came home, and the three of us talked awhile, before Lisa and I went out for a walk. I took her down to the Navy Yard, and we walked along Flushing and Navy to Vinegar Hill. Then, we followed the cobblestone streets into DUMBO. I figured while stuck with the warmth and the fog, we might as well take-advantage of it to scope out some of the warmest and foggiest parts of Brooklyn. We stopped at the Fulton Ferry Landing, and from there crossed up to the heights, walked the Promenade, and cut through Downtown. We stopped at Junior’s where the food is overpriced, but this time I tried the famous cheesecake and was not disappointed. Lisa and I talked about New York vs. Chicago, our general mood, our writing, the Situation and Urbantasm, and my experiences with the MFA, and her experiences in the Czech republic. Then, we walked back from Juniors through Fort Greene park, and got back to my place around one. We visited with Jess for awhile, until she went to bed. Then Lisa and I discussed the specific writing she’d sent me (I’d scrawled some notes earlier that same day, but was already having doubts about them) and got into a visceral discussion of the publishing industry and its efficiency or insufficiency. We finally went to sleep around 4:30.
On Saturday, we all took our time getting up. Jess decided to stay in; it was still warm out, but the fog had been replaced by a steady rain. Lisa and I discussed going to Manhattan, but in the end I suggested going to Williamsburg (which I still haven’t explored much) in Brooklyn, and Lisa agreed. We zigged and zagged our way over… I don’t have the area memorized… along Flushing and other streets to Union and then Broadway. We ended up at a Mexican restaurant in the shadow of the Williamsburg bridge, and we talked about places we could visit. (I suggested making a list of ten cities we wanted to visit and planning to visit those that made both of our lists… the only common point was San Francisco). At about four the sun was just going down, and we set out into the rain, which was falling more heavily at this point. We walked along Broadway under the el out there, and stopped to pick up some flowers for Jess at a wedge-shaped flower shop. On the way back, we meandered through a Hasidic neighborhood on Heyward Street which was, as Lisa said, “just like a movie set.” The women were all wearing 1940s style long coats and high heels, and the men all wore caps different from any I’d seen before (they weren’t yarmulkes. We continued into Clinton Hill and sat and talked for awhile at Tillie’s, a coffeeshop I know well, mainly about starting our own literary magazine. Our minds made up, we stopped at Bravo for groceries on the way back.
At home Lisa made a salad and Jess made spaghetti. I took a shower to warm up after stomping through the rain all day. We had champagne with dinner, and then the three up us sat up well past one watching episodes of The Adventures of Pete and Pete.
On Sunday I technically was up in time for church, but opted to miss out from tiredness and wanting to visit. I’ll make it up by going to a daily mass this week. Jess wanted to do the laundry, so she decided to stay home. I did the dishes, then Lisa and I set out for Manhattan in search of specifically local literary journals. The weather had changed dramatically, dropping some thirty or forty degrees during the night, so instead of a long walk, we took the subway to Manhattan and rode to Union Square. We walked to the Strand, then Barnes and Noble on Union Square, and finally St. Mark’s Bookstore. We saw a lot of interesting books, but not, unfortunately, what we were looking for. After bitching, however, about the expense of New York diners and their stingy serving sizes, Lisa promised to show me an exception. I don’t remember the name of the place, but it’s almost a literal hole in the wall on 3rd Avenue around St. Marks. The whole operation couldn’t have been more than 500 square feet and was just wide enough for one person to slide by single file between the bar stools and the tables. We sat at a table. This place delivered. My plate of eggs and potatoes, besides being beautiful prepared was around $4.50, almost comparable to Chicago prices and not-so-far above Flint, and the helping was enough to fill me up. And the fresh bread (free) was spongy and gooey-good. The tone of the place seemed to have been sucked from the fifties with the beaten in chrome decor and faded paintings on the wall, but the patrons seemed to have been beaten-up in the nineties. We got on our way.
We arrived back at home, not too late, and got pizza from Little Louie’s (very good – Myrtle and Adelphi) for dinner. We spent most of the evening working on the magazine. We Kept It In A Bucket we’re calling it. Jess came up with the name.
The next morning, I discovered I didn’t have work, so that bought me a few extra hours for visiting. Monday was laid back compared to the other days, with Lisa showing me an archive of antique photos online and transferring a literal hundred pictures from the Gothic Funk party. (More work for me). And then, she was off to catch her flight, and I had to return the recyclable bottles to Bravo.
These short visits remind me how productive work can be when there is both inspiration and incentive. Look for more on We Kept It In A Bucket soon, and let me know if you want to come visit as well.
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