Monday, August 12, 2013



First of three sessions with Isadora Duncan troupe--assembled in her name, we were a mixed group of women between the ages of 20-80 years stumbling through the forms, then prancing, and all at once, just for a moment, it became an opportunity to let go, like children.  I can't photograph on, I've included a short video at the bottom of this post to illustrate what we might have looked like.



Early evening brings a Community Council picnic party hosted by the Thirteenth precinct at the playground right on my corner
My friends, Fred Fassberger and Laurie Arts at their most popular caricature booth
above-Fred at work
below-Laurie working
I love my portrait by Fred

Post Script
A very reluctant Super reattached my stove.  We await Con Ed's convenience to turn on the gas.

Off to the farm market again for lantana to plant at the church garden whenever the weather seems right.

On the way home I pinch-pruned two heavy draping sweet potato vines

Rooting for propagation 

Culture Note

"On this day in 1934, the U.S. Court of Appeals ruled that the novel Ulysses, by James Joyce (books by this author), was not obscene. It had been banned in the United States in 1920, and though it was a big-seller on the black market, and Joyce knew he was losing a lot of money to pirate publishers, the only way to fight the ban was to provoke the government into a new obscenity trial. So in 1933, Random House decided to import a single version of the French edition of Ulysses, and the company had people waiting at the New York docks for the book's arrival. It was a hot day and the U.S. Customs inspector didn't want to be bothered with another inspection, but the Random House people made sure that one book was seized. Random House and Joyce appealed, and the judge, John Woolsey, ruled that it was not pornographic. In his judicial opinion, Judge Woolsey wrote,
 "In respect of the recurrent emergence of the theme of sex in the minds of his characters, it must always be remembered that his locale was Celtic and his season Spring." 
 -NPR The Writers Almanac-

The moody day turned into damp evening, and the monthly meditation with Joan Suval at 7:30, 5 blocks West-- 

"Don't rely on your mind for liberation.  It is the mind that brought you into bondage.  Go beyond it altogether." 
-Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj-
There were delicious cookies after, then, I walked slowly home with the wind.  Later it poured.
Lovely sleeping weather.

Still waiting.  Had a cordial conversation with the very helpful Mrs. Walker of Con Edison customer service, who simply detailed the events by date, and helped me understand, that the plumbers timing was off (he started the work before gaining permits, and filed the request for inspection prematurely) and that started the cascade which leaves us in the current condition (pushed to the bottom of the long list of service appointments).

So, I cleaned rooms, made salads, read blogs, and finished a poem

The Forest Library
Inspired by  Teri Windling
« Into the Woods, 21: Up in the trees

And let us not forget the fallen ones--
trees that storms brought down. 

Under ground, deep roots are crawlin' along--

weaving themselves together to form

one perfect, airy, earth-sized root ball-- 

containing the collective memory of them all.

Day #18 of 'still waiting'.

Took a trip to the library to pick up the Raymond Chandler short stories discs, and a trip round the garden just to see it, but I really can't recall the tens of little gestures, or what the heck I did the rest of the day till evening when I took up waiting for the promised thunder storm which never arrived.


Now the slant of late afternoon light seeps through elaborate wrought-iron slats.  A fire-escape pattern zigzags across sheer curtains

blinking on and off
in time with clouds crossing the sun

The Loft Party

Commenced at 5PM.  Wendy and I arrived at 7.  Dancing, smiling, greeting, bop and break dancing, smiling, eating,  trance dancing, smiling, departure and the breezy walk home in this busy, busy City with bodies tired, minds relaxed,  we saw the midnight hour pass into Sunday.

Sight lines 
(after dancing)

So quiet in this precise moment here,
I can hear the high hum in my inner ear.

Distant cars, like ocean waves, roll in to shore.
Wave upon wave they come, curl, and are no more.

Hindsight? Foresight? Right or Wrong sight?
Day sight? Night sight? Dark and light sight?

It's Insight--Yes, insight's in my sight tonight.

Improvisation abounds today--naps and writing, and getting things in order for the week ahead.  I've confirmed travel plans for the end of August into September, registered for another three month session with my writing group, and pulled out the sewing projects to decide what to bring with me to the country, my heart full of happy anticipation.

Tonight is the second session


grace Forrest~Maestas said...

ohhhh...the last, the Isadoras
dancing brought back such moments....
we had a dress up box and it was
full of fancy ladies slips and veils of all manner and the kids and i would be Isadora through the house when they were little
thank you for this and thanks again
for a Week in

deanna7trees said...

yes...the dancing. i loved it. can no longer do that with my knees. nice post except for the gas problem. it seems so unreasonable. maybe you need one of those little electric stoves.

Nancy said...

Love traveling your days with you (even if after the fact!) And that joyful!

Peggy said...

Michelle, this is rich. I love the idea of women dancing freely like children. The cloth over your computer caught my eye -- envisioning you walking home with the wind -- your poetry --thank you for sharing your days in this way. P.S. Are you a dancer? You danced a lot this week. xo