Thursday, April 28, 2016


So my darling friend Pam of Melbourne, in New York by Divine Coincidence-- I can attribute it to nothing less, as I have not seen her for Australian Eons, and she is in the city at the same time as me, with a travel buddy-- and I had dinner with her, twice.  First time in a restaurant I thought I'd discovered happily last night, understood at eating there in an appropriate hour that the only reason I'd delighted in it was it had been the wrong time, so it was empty, second time in the restaurant just behind me on 58th street was the right one.  We had a good time and a good meal when we ate again.  I could leave this city chubby as I was as a girl, though arguably not with as much potential ahead of me.
       The weather here is saddening, overcast and dreary, though most people don't look up as they walk, transfixed or committed to sidewalk-gazing.  Tour buses go by with passengers who do a little routine as they wave by, looking as though they are having a good time so engaged.  I am having a difficult journey as all these years into Jack-study, I still don't know how to live in the moment.  The greatest pleasure for me is still my bird, who seems comfortable now with my presence, more or less gazing up at me sideways as I lean over to look inside her box.  The Angel Carleen said " And you thought you wanted a dog."
     Pretty funny.
     Am going to go this early evening to the Cy Coleman musical at the church I ogled and ear-gled on Sunday.  Cy was the nicest man in the music game after Yip Harburg, or maybe even alongside of him.  He was having a sex Affair(I cannot swear it was love) with Madelyn(maybe spelled line) Gottlieb who enjoyed getting hysterical.  When I was in the middle of writing my musical, ready to make any compromise to get it on, Cy was in an elevator I was standing in front of, and I urged him to step out.  Being more than kind and/or accommodating, he did, and I played him my musical.
"Write bigger endings," he said.  "If I came in on it I would tear the fabric of these numbers apart."  So I listened to him, wrote bigger endings, it still didn't get on, but I truly loved him-- in a creative context-- and he died anyway.  This early evening I will go to hear what became of that idea he had and didn't mind writing with another woman.  A really sweet man, and he did have rhythm.

           Well, I went, and it wasn't there.  That is to say, I went to the place where it was supposed to be put on, and it wasn't.  I'm sad and frustrated, and without a melody.  I walked home, and maybe that was good for me.  But song would have been better.   So I came home, and looked again carefully at the program.  It's next Spring.  Oh,well.