Friday, August 25, 2017

Kathleen Turner Sang My Song.

Kathleen Turner was to debut my new song at 4PM.
One I'd written just for her -- for her new cabaret.
(An afternoon run-through for her
opening in Philadelphia on Sept. 25).
(Lyrics co-written with James Freeman).

I was feeling very weak, though recovering, so I had
Just about enough energy to get there
Don't Tell Mama, a club a few blocks away
Watch the show and come home

Saw lots of friends and got lots of hugs
But I sat down early and got comfortable

And it was glorious.
She sang once before in a play
So she hasn't made a career of singing
And she's not a technically skilled singer,
like opera or anything
But she's Kathleen Turner,
One of the most iconic voices of all time
She sings with great acting ability
Like all the classic cabaret great singers

That rich female baritone

After it was over, I went home and
Slept, missing project runway

Oh right! I have project runway to watch!

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

two guys in times square

AUG 23

a short walk
my first after my surgery

met two people

times square
1:30 pm
the constant current of people
must find strategic places
to shoot photos and video

middle island
a switch box on a wide green pole
wide shadow

i move to the pole
listening for the whine of the subways
beneath the grate
it’s the only place with that particular sound
but the crowd is too loud

i reach the pole
stop to position my camera
a guy jumps from the shadow of the pole
gives me a flyer for a tour bus

Older. 50s? Dark skin. 
Salt and pepper beard and hair.
Later, said he was Indian.

he asks, gruffly, “where ya from?”
“i live here. just out for a walk.”
“yeah? you look like the tourists from sweden or norway.”
“that’s my ancestry. i bet you get to know them all standing here.”

“i’m a child of god!” he proclaimed. “Shall I prove it to you?”


“i have no father or mother. i have no last name!
when i got my social security number, they told me,
‘you have no parents’
and that’s how i know God is my father.”

I thought of the movie The Lion.

i nodded, not sure how to respond.

“how many languages you speak?” He demanded, followed by,

“Parlez vous, Fr…” “Sprechen ze…”

Ashamed, I said "none," but then “Puedo habla espanol.”

“Meh. Everyone around here speaks Spanish.
It’s like speaking English. I'm Felix."

I said, “Mr. Bonus Round.”

But I think “Mr. Bonus Round” can learn a lot from this guy.

“Are you usually here?”

“They put me on different corners.”

“I’ll come find you again.”

met another guy on 44th and 7th.

I had stopped next to a trash can

A voice: “It never stops.”

Vaguely Eastern European. Male.

I turned.

Easy smile.

Tall. Handsome. Late 20s?

Very manly.

“No, it doesn’t. Except Sunday morning. Not a soul in sight.”

He pondered that.

“I’m from Belarus. Do you know where that is?” he laughed.

“You probably don’t.”

No. I couldn’t picture it on a map but,
“Eastern Europe, right? Was once part of the Soviet Union.”

“We are not part of it now.”
His easy smile evaporated for just a moment.
“I’ve been working in New Jersey and I came in to see it for the first time.”

We both looked at the coordinated masses streaming around us.

He said, “I like it.”