Close to four pages of books this year.
31.12.20
29.12.20
All my hours between, since summer, have been won by afternoon movies that the bambi watches on this computer. Because she does not nap anymore. Hence the lack of posts. The week between Christmas and New Years--spent on couch in sunbeams, in chair in sunbeams, on bed in sunbeams. Covid still rages, worse than ever. Vaccines are coming. They are here for healthcare workers: my mom and cousin got their first round the day after Christmas.
29.7.20
27.7.20
Day 138----
We left the apartment directly after breakfast, trying to beat the heat of the day--I don't think it cooled off at all overnight. Even sounds were muffled by the haze of heat.
A small tote filled with film to be developed, a pink book of poetry (too hot to pause long enough to read), water bottle for bambi, hand sanitizer (it's the stinky one, dammit), one popsicle mold to return to the coffee shop round the block (we were testing their new recipe), cash for the cash only photo lab on Elizabeth and Hester, keys, phone... I forgot alcohol wipes for the swings.
I pick up my birth control from Gigi at the corner chemist--the socially distanced line got complicated by the very elderly man who needed to sit on the bench but was next in line so the rest of us bunched up in the back till one lady entered, took it in and skipped us all. But in the end Gigi knew what everyone needed/everyone just shouted their order from the barrier in Chinese and she just brought me my birth control without my even asking.
Every time I leave the city and return I'm first teary with relief then awkward with how much I've missed. Even just six days-- homelessness has visibly increased since before we left. It's shocking and it's not at all.
I took bambi to Hester playground for the first time since March (longer even maybe? it's very cold there in the winter) and it has less non touching options than Seward Park has so I've avoided it but it was always our favorite. The diorama of the city for matchbox cars that she'd giddily packed three cars for in her baggie wasn't shaded by the time we got there and it was impossible to play on. I let her swing for a bit since they were the only things shaded at the time. It was so hot the hand sanitizer evaporates before I can fully coat my hands.
She is the only child in the entire playground. Every shaded bench is full of elderly and homeless people. They are mostly silent to preserve energy, reading papers, drinking (hot always) coffee and tea from the pink paper cups from the bakery on Grand St. Some are showering and dabbing their foreheads in the sprinklers periodically. The sprinklers and the shade trees are the only cooling centers the city can offer this summer with libraries and rec centers closed.
A couple ballroom dance to the beat of a boombox in a nearby handball court, the pace of their movements incongruously fast compared to everyone else. They only manage three songs before they load their boombox into a tote bag and leave.
She offers no protest when I say we have to head home, climbing right into the stroller, pulls her mask down briefly for a gulp of water and puts it right back on.
As we climb the stairs back at home (my eyes blacking out, waves of nausea--we definitely stayed out too long and how are those elderly people ever surviving???), she holds my hand and walks up the first flight herself, carefully avoiding touching the shared railings. "The white things on the stairs look like moons, Mama." I reply--vaguely--I cannot see anything resembling a moon and she can tell. She firmly pauses (I hate this, I badly need the momentum, the shared stairs are perhaps the most important place to wear a mask and the most searing), turns and points to a perfect tiny half moon imprint in the slate of the stairs, as if someone dropped a half moon hard. We were home by 11am.
The moon tonight is also a half moon.
We left the apartment directly after breakfast, trying to beat the heat of the day--I don't think it cooled off at all overnight. Even sounds were muffled by the haze of heat.
A small tote filled with film to be developed, a pink book of poetry (too hot to pause long enough to read), water bottle for bambi, hand sanitizer (it's the stinky one, dammit), one popsicle mold to return to the coffee shop round the block (we were testing their new recipe), cash for the cash only photo lab on Elizabeth and Hester, keys, phone... I forgot alcohol wipes for the swings.
I pick up my birth control from Gigi at the corner chemist--the socially distanced line got complicated by the very elderly man who needed to sit on the bench but was next in line so the rest of us bunched up in the back till one lady entered, took it in and skipped us all. But in the end Gigi knew what everyone needed/everyone just shouted their order from the barrier in Chinese and she just brought me my birth control without my even asking.
Every time I leave the city and return I'm first teary with relief then awkward with how much I've missed. Even just six days-- homelessness has visibly increased since before we left. It's shocking and it's not at all.
I took bambi to Hester playground for the first time since March (longer even maybe? it's very cold there in the winter) and it has less non touching options than Seward Park has so I've avoided it but it was always our favorite. The diorama of the city for matchbox cars that she'd giddily packed three cars for in her baggie wasn't shaded by the time we got there and it was impossible to play on. I let her swing for a bit since they were the only things shaded at the time. It was so hot the hand sanitizer evaporates before I can fully coat my hands.
She is the only child in the entire playground. Every shaded bench is full of elderly and homeless people. They are mostly silent to preserve energy, reading papers, drinking (hot always) coffee and tea from the pink paper cups from the bakery on Grand St. Some are showering and dabbing their foreheads in the sprinklers periodically. The sprinklers and the shade trees are the only cooling centers the city can offer this summer with libraries and rec centers closed.
A couple ballroom dance to the beat of a boombox in a nearby handball court, the pace of their movements incongruously fast compared to everyone else. They only manage three songs before they load their boombox into a tote bag and leave.
She offers no protest when I say we have to head home, climbing right into the stroller, pulls her mask down briefly for a gulp of water and puts it right back on.
As we climb the stairs back at home (my eyes blacking out, waves of nausea--we definitely stayed out too long and how are those elderly people ever surviving???), she holds my hand and walks up the first flight herself, carefully avoiding touching the shared railings. "The white things on the stairs look like moons, Mama." I reply--vaguely--I cannot see anything resembling a moon and she can tell. She firmly pauses (I hate this, I badly need the momentum, the shared stairs are perhaps the most important place to wear a mask and the most searing), turns and points to a perfect tiny half moon imprint in the slate of the stairs, as if someone dropped a half moon hard. We were home by 11am.
The moon tonight is also a half moon.
26.7.20
Day 137----
An unforeseen benefit of our pandemic summer: getting to wear the sexy summer dresses I always thrift, made from synthetic fabrics too hot to wear outside in the weather they are designed for. Just me and my cherry dress on an armchair in front of the window unit--and my husband, kid and cat.
An unforeseen benefit of our pandemic summer: getting to wear the sexy summer dresses I always thrift, made from synthetic fabrics too hot to wear outside in the weather they are designed for. Just me and my cherry dress on an armchair in front of the window unit--and my husband, kid and cat.
25.7.20
Days 80-137-----
The murder of George Floyd triggered a sustained revolution that has swept across the entire country, filling every city's streets with protest and retaliatory police brutality on par with the civil rights movement in 1968. It has been two months of daily protests today. They fill our very street. The punishing throb of police helicopter blades filled the sky every night for weeks on end--getting louder the more brutally the police attacked--so many innocent people protesting the very thing they are being victimized for every night--the particularly fierce battles are mostly on the weekends now. As the city opens up, some people have to work or lose all unemployment, even if their work is unsafe.
Everyone predicted the protests would trigger the second wave of covid, but as you can see in the second photo, protestors have been more careful to socially distance than any one else. When I was out most people were wearing two, sometimes three masks, at once, despite the stifling humidity of this sudden summer. We joined from the fire escape whenever protests marched down our street and once they passed during a nap and I threw on converse and mask and dashed out to join them. Of course bambi woke up and sobbed because the sound of the chanting terrified her at the beginning (now all her animals and dolls don signs and march around the apartment shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE!").
The only times protests became unsafe have been when the police kettle us. They force us to stop or be beaten. That only happened once when I was out. But it haunted me and I quarantined for 14 days and avoided looking up all the emerging threats of the virus on children. One night during the first week or two the police trapped protestors on the Manhattan Bridge (half a block from us) for hours in pouring rain--thousands of people in standing room only. The helicopters were deafening and no one slept that night. The bambi is still terrified of helicopters, and rightly so. They always mean horrific injustices are being rained down on people simply asking not to be killed.
During the first week I fractured my toe with the vacuum and couldn't attend anymore protests and by the time I was healed they were recommending no one go out who couldn't be arrested. I am still wrestling with that... does having a child count? She is so scared but how much more Black children??? I don't know what is right but there's much that can be done apart from marching. There were all these lists going around matching activisms to different abilities and giftings... the thing is, I think I'm really good at the marching kind of protest. But I'm also a parent. And I'm still there. I spent hours arguing with people who haven't talked to me in a decade but suddenly want to tell me why supporting Black Lives Matter isn't "christian" somehow.... But they refused to listen to me and I think I was trying to punish myself for not marching by continuing to engage them. And it was not helping Black lives so I stopped replying to most. But continued talking to family members--some--more on that later.
On day 100 of covid NYC parks re-opened. We use them cautiously and not at all daily now. I bring alcohol wipes for swing chains and we mostly stick to the sprinklers. Even sitting on benches feels wrong still. Although they now say its not spread by contact. So out of doors is reasonably safe and so are benches. But everything makes me feel crazy-- Haley Nahman explained the feeling well: "Compulsively sanitizing always makes me feel half crazy, because I'm either doing it unnecessarily or I'm literally wiping away a lethal virus, neither of which I want to be true."
I started working again-- selling books on the street, as it turns out, is a very virus friendly (unfriendly?) way to distribute used books. In fact, I and the other street booksellers are the only used booksellers open right now, that I know of. The Strand is sort of open but they encourage pick up rather than browsing and used book buying is best done browsed.
We've been going out more-- to the coffee shop around the block. They re-opened and I am now doing a weekly pop up with the bookcart in their street seating.
Street seating is now a thing. Pretty much any restaurant in NYC can convert the parking space in front of them into seating. In this way it's a wild and lawless summer. No rules apply. Unless you think Black lives should be treated with justice and not crushed to death under the knee of any cop who sees fit. Abolish police. NOW.
The small minded maniac in who is president for the time being is unleashing unmarked federal agents on Portland and now Seattle. They are arresting and attacking anyone who protests with impunity. I read a quote somewhere about the spread of fascism in Nigeria-- something about you will never feel like a line has been crossed because they will always move the line. I need to find the direct quote.
I have read so much these two months--at first I couldn't read at all, like at the beginning of everything in March-- but then I could and so much non fiction and anti-racist, anti- white supremacy, Black women books. And the more I read the less I know. For a blip I think I grasp it--my own culpability, that I am all of it. Then the trauma of that guilt pushes it out of my mind and I writhe in unacceptable confusion--confusion that I'd rather have than feeling sure of something that I should never feel sure and smug about. The sleepless nights, the beat of helicopter wings, the curfews broken then removed, shops happy to be looted, occupy city hall....
Calls to ignore my own privilege, not to pretend it doesn't exist but to simply not enact it: "I have privileges I do not enact because of the importance of just, ethical parenting." -Latonya Yvette
Then a vacation that we'd planned in the early days, when no one could leave their tiny apartments and there was no grass or public space. And when jesse's work said vacation time was use it or lose it before august. The guilt of leaving. How can we leave our city at this time?? And yet knowing everyone not vacationing would if they could for their kid's sake. Or is that what I have to tell myself?
The murder of George Floyd triggered a sustained revolution that has swept across the entire country, filling every city's streets with protest and retaliatory police brutality on par with the civil rights movement in 1968. It has been two months of daily protests today. They fill our very street. The punishing throb of police helicopter blades filled the sky every night for weeks on end--getting louder the more brutally the police attacked--so many innocent people protesting the very thing they are being victimized for every night--the particularly fierce battles are mostly on the weekends now. As the city opens up, some people have to work or lose all unemployment, even if their work is unsafe.
Everyone predicted the protests would trigger the second wave of covid, but as you can see in the second photo, protestors have been more careful to socially distance than any one else. When I was out most people were wearing two, sometimes three masks, at once, despite the stifling humidity of this sudden summer. We joined from the fire escape whenever protests marched down our street and once they passed during a nap and I threw on converse and mask and dashed out to join them. Of course bambi woke up and sobbed because the sound of the chanting terrified her at the beginning (now all her animals and dolls don signs and march around the apartment shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE!").
The only times protests became unsafe have been when the police kettle us. They force us to stop or be beaten. That only happened once when I was out. But it haunted me and I quarantined for 14 days and avoided looking up all the emerging threats of the virus on children. One night during the first week or two the police trapped protestors on the Manhattan Bridge (half a block from us) for hours in pouring rain--thousands of people in standing room only. The helicopters were deafening and no one slept that night. The bambi is still terrified of helicopters, and rightly so. They always mean horrific injustices are being rained down on people simply asking not to be killed.
During the first week I fractured my toe with the vacuum and couldn't attend anymore protests and by the time I was healed they were recommending no one go out who couldn't be arrested. I am still wrestling with that... does having a child count? She is so scared but how much more Black children??? I don't know what is right but there's much that can be done apart from marching. There were all these lists going around matching activisms to different abilities and giftings... the thing is, I think I'm really good at the marching kind of protest. But I'm also a parent. And I'm still there. I spent hours arguing with people who haven't talked to me in a decade but suddenly want to tell me why supporting Black Lives Matter isn't "christian" somehow.... But they refused to listen to me and I think I was trying to punish myself for not marching by continuing to engage them. And it was not helping Black lives so I stopped replying to most. But continued talking to family members--some--more on that later.
On day 100 of covid NYC parks re-opened. We use them cautiously and not at all daily now. I bring alcohol wipes for swing chains and we mostly stick to the sprinklers. Even sitting on benches feels wrong still. Although they now say its not spread by contact. So out of doors is reasonably safe and so are benches. But everything makes me feel crazy-- Haley Nahman explained the feeling well: "Compulsively sanitizing always makes me feel half crazy, because I'm either doing it unnecessarily or I'm literally wiping away a lethal virus, neither of which I want to be true."
I started working again-- selling books on the street, as it turns out, is a very virus friendly (unfriendly?) way to distribute used books. In fact, I and the other street booksellers are the only used booksellers open right now, that I know of. The Strand is sort of open but they encourage pick up rather than browsing and used book buying is best done browsed.
We've been going out more-- to the coffee shop around the block. They re-opened and I am now doing a weekly pop up with the bookcart in their street seating.
Street seating is now a thing. Pretty much any restaurant in NYC can convert the parking space in front of them into seating. In this way it's a wild and lawless summer. No rules apply. Unless you think Black lives should be treated with justice and not crushed to death under the knee of any cop who sees fit. Abolish police. NOW.
The small minded maniac in who is president for the time being is unleashing unmarked federal agents on Portland and now Seattle. They are arresting and attacking anyone who protests with impunity. I read a quote somewhere about the spread of fascism in Nigeria-- something about you will never feel like a line has been crossed because they will always move the line. I need to find the direct quote.
I have read so much these two months--at first I couldn't read at all, like at the beginning of everything in March-- but then I could and so much non fiction and anti-racist, anti- white supremacy, Black women books. And the more I read the less I know. For a blip I think I grasp it--my own culpability, that I am all of it. Then the trauma of that guilt pushes it out of my mind and I writhe in unacceptable confusion--confusion that I'd rather have than feeling sure of something that I should never feel sure and smug about. The sleepless nights, the beat of helicopter wings, the curfews broken then removed, shops happy to be looted, occupy city hall....
Calls to ignore my own privilege, not to pretend it doesn't exist but to simply not enact it: "I have privileges I do not enact because of the importance of just, ethical parenting." -Latonya Yvette
Then a vacation that we'd planned in the early days, when no one could leave their tiny apartments and there was no grass or public space. And when jesse's work said vacation time was use it or lose it before august. The guilt of leaving. How can we leave our city at this time?? And yet knowing everyone not vacationing would if they could for their kid's sake. Or is that what I have to tell myself?
30.5.20
Day 79----
A few days ago a white woman called in a hit on a black birdwatcher in Central Park who asked her to leash her dog, per the park's rules. This woman was a white, New Yorker, liberal, Obama supporter. And yet in an instant she went straight to racism. Saying "An African American man is threatening my life! Send help NOW!" The classic white woman in distress. You know, from all of US history? yeah. And she felt like an ally. Right up till then. Just like me.
A black man was murdered slowly, by a cop, pleading for his life in Minneapolis. The only difference from all the other times was this one was recorded. An eight minute and forty-six second video.
Last night Minneapolis burned in protest. An entire police precinct was taken over. Here in Lower Manhattan seventy-two people were arrested for protesting.
This afternoon bambi and I walked to Foley Sq.--the closer we got, more and more cops appeared from every direction. Prisoner transport busses lined the streets between our apartment and the square. They were preparing for battle. We got about half a block from the actual protest when bambi got too scared. So I took her back towards Columbus Park and tried, so fumblingly, to explain what was happening--that it WAS scary. That it shouldn't be scary. I tried to explain racism, police as the tools of a corrupt government, corrupt government, police, systemic wrongs.
The whole time seeing more and more protestors bravely joining in, walking past police armed for war. Knowing full well, it was all to clear what the polices' intent was... and the contrast of the that slow and steady stream of protestors, armed with masks, hand sanitizer, signs and cameras.
After a long talk, she said, "mama! I won't be scared anymore! Let's go back there. I need to GROWL."
As I'm writing this, the police have begun their attack. And we are fighting back. There are cop cars on fire. They are saying the 88th precinct in Brooklyn has been taken over.
A few days ago a white woman called in a hit on a black birdwatcher in Central Park who asked her to leash her dog, per the park's rules. This woman was a white, New Yorker, liberal, Obama supporter. And yet in an instant she went straight to racism. Saying "An African American man is threatening my life! Send help NOW!" The classic white woman in distress. You know, from all of US history? yeah. And she felt like an ally. Right up till then. Just like me.
A black man was murdered slowly, by a cop, pleading for his life in Minneapolis. The only difference from all the other times was this one was recorded. An eight minute and forty-six second video.
Last night Minneapolis burned in protest. An entire police precinct was taken over. Here in Lower Manhattan seventy-two people were arrested for protesting.
This afternoon bambi and I walked to Foley Sq.--the closer we got, more and more cops appeared from every direction. Prisoner transport busses lined the streets between our apartment and the square. They were preparing for battle. We got about half a block from the actual protest when bambi got too scared. So I took her back towards Columbus Park and tried, so fumblingly, to explain what was happening--that it WAS scary. That it shouldn't be scary. I tried to explain racism, police as the tools of a corrupt government, corrupt government, police, systemic wrongs.
The whole time seeing more and more protestors bravely joining in, walking past police armed for war. Knowing full well, it was all to clear what the polices' intent was... and the contrast of the that slow and steady stream of protestors, armed with masks, hand sanitizer, signs and cameras.
After a long talk, she said, "mama! I won't be scared anymore! Let's go back there. I need to GROWL."
As I'm writing this, the police have begun their attack. And we are fighting back. There are cop cars on fire. They are saying the 88th precinct in Brooklyn has been taken over.
28.5.20
Day 78----
My fingers are sore from all this stitching but I feel nice and smugly resourceful and ridiculously proud of how beautiful it will be. If I ever finish... there are a lot of holes that need to be patched on both sides each.
She's been sleeping in the real bed for three days now and, aside from falling off the first night (didn't even wake up when I lifted her back up)-- that was actually funny. I had just checked on her and was telling jesse to go see how sweet and grown up she looked. He came back to our room and said, "uh our sweet little baby is on the floor..." But aside from that she hasn't even got out of bed at all. She still calls us to come get her! ....harking back to the other day's subject of rebel moms, compliant children thing...
All morning we snuggled on the couch and looked at photos and videos of her as a baby and also baby birds.
I finished reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe aloud to her. Her first chapter read aloud--I feel a little sheepish that it was by a man. And it has made me realize that chapter books from my childhood are going to be a lot more time consuming to vet for sexism and racism than picture books were. I'm going to need a lot of help with this. Just flipping through books from my past to find the next one to read to her is turning my stomach a bit. And it's not enough to just not have issues. They need to be womanist and anti-racist too.
My fingers are sore from all this stitching but I feel nice and smugly resourceful and ridiculously proud of how beautiful it will be. If I ever finish... there are a lot of holes that need to be patched on both sides each.
She's been sleeping in the real bed for three days now and, aside from falling off the first night (didn't even wake up when I lifted her back up)-- that was actually funny. I had just checked on her and was telling jesse to go see how sweet and grown up she looked. He came back to our room and said, "uh our sweet little baby is on the floor..." But aside from that she hasn't even got out of bed at all. She still calls us to come get her! ....harking back to the other day's subject of rebel moms, compliant children thing...
All morning we snuggled on the couch and looked at photos and videos of her as a baby and also baby birds.
I finished reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe aloud to her. Her first chapter read aloud--I feel a little sheepish that it was by a man. And it has made me realize that chapter books from my childhood are going to be a lot more time consuming to vet for sexism and racism than picture books were. I'm going to need a lot of help with this. Just flipping through books from my past to find the next one to read to her is turning my stomach a bit. And it's not enough to just not have issues. They need to be womanist and anti-racist too.
27.5.20
Day 77-----
The first day I forgot to write. I was drifting off to sleep, suddenly remembered and gasped awake (it was an extreme reaction). Jesse asked if I'd had a nightmare-- I paused then said yes. Mostly not true but kind of true cause I remembered in that half dream trance and it was unpleasant. He snuggled me up and it was sweet. So I wrote this in the morning. A fraud.
I've been filling my time mending this big hole-y blanket for bambi and I remember why I always start stitching when I'm depressed. It's a good antidote to the inevitable inability to read and write. But it may work both ways...
The first day I forgot to write. I was drifting off to sleep, suddenly remembered and gasped awake (it was an extreme reaction). Jesse asked if I'd had a nightmare-- I paused then said yes. Mostly not true but kind of true cause I remembered in that half dream trance and it was unpleasant. He snuggled me up and it was sweet. So I wrote this in the morning. A fraud.
I've been filling my time mending this big hole-y blanket for bambi and I remember why I always start stitching when I'm depressed. It's a good antidote to the inevitable inability to read and write. But it may work both ways...
26.5.20
Day 76----
I remember hearing about a resident of Wuhan on day seventy-six of his lockdown. It was the first time they were allowed outside at all. I remember sitting at the kitchen table thinking how crazy high the number seventy-six sounded. But we are taking some walks now. Even though today we didn't leave and it was so much nicer. The walks feel like a duty that you should enjoy but don't.
I remember hearing about a resident of Wuhan on day seventy-six of his lockdown. It was the first time they were allowed outside at all. I remember sitting at the kitchen table thinking how crazy high the number seventy-six sounded. But we are taking some walks now. Even though today we didn't leave and it was so much nicer. The walks feel like a duty that you should enjoy but don't.
25.5.20
Day 75----
Its been harder to write lately. My brain feels blank. I think it's the sudden seeing of other humans again. Even for the briefest bit. And also, seventy-five days of this is reason enough.
We got bambi a big kid bed. She misses her crib. I think we may have made a mistake. Even though her head and feet were banging against the ends of her mini crib.
Its been harder to write lately. My brain feels blank. I think it's the sudden seeing of other humans again. Even for the briefest bit. And also, seventy-five days of this is reason enough.
We got bambi a big kid bed. She misses her crib. I think we may have made a mistake. Even though her head and feet were banging against the ends of her mini crib.
24.5.20
Day 74----
We skipped church to go on a distanced walk with uncle charlie today. He rode across the bridge on a citibike and was completely winded--he's still been going to work (healthcare) but even he hasn't exercised since this started because his hospital is a few blocks from his apartment. Plus riding up and down the Brooklyn Bridge on those heavy bikes with a mask....! Our legs were aching walking just over two miles to and from Battery Park. But the grass is finally open there!
23.5.20
Day 73----
It rained dark, loud and heavy all morning. And bambi snuggled on jesse's lap on the new chair in a pool of day time lamplight listening to music. It was very sweet as long as you didn't listen to her dark and morbid rationals for the songs she so cooly asked for: "I want scary music, dada!" "can I hear the one with blood?" "Why her eyes so creepy? I like it." Jesse kept looking up making horrified eye contact with me as I sat on the couch hiding my laughter behind my book. Its really not that weird developmentally, plus the whole global pandemic...
On that note, we dropped under 100 deaths in the last 24 hours.
I'm having so much trouble with even online interactions. Forgetting to reply, remembering, panicking, then forgetting again.
It rained dark, loud and heavy all morning. And bambi snuggled on jesse's lap on the new chair in a pool of day time lamplight listening to music. It was very sweet as long as you didn't listen to her dark and morbid rationals for the songs she so cooly asked for: "I want scary music, dada!" "can I hear the one with blood?" "Why her eyes so creepy? I like it." Jesse kept looking up making horrified eye contact with me as I sat on the couch hiding my laughter behind my book. Its really not that weird developmentally, plus the whole global pandemic...
On that note, we dropped under 100 deaths in the last 24 hours.
I'm having so much trouble with even online interactions. Forgetting to reply, remembering, panicking, then forgetting again.
22.5.20
Day 72----
Our neighbors floated balloons up for bambi from the sidewalk to our fire escape!
It started out sunny and even warm today then clouded over and now its a steady rain--the bedroom window is open and night breezes are drifting across our bed. The street is finally quiet again, aside from the occasional rattle of a bike gear. It was way too crowded out there earlier today. We are getting lax with the sun and that's scary.
Our neighbors floated balloons up for bambi from the sidewalk to our fire escape!
It started out sunny and even warm today then clouded over and now its a steady rain--the bedroom window is open and night breezes are drifting across our bed. The street is finally quiet again, aside from the occasional rattle of a bike gear. It was way too crowded out there earlier today. We are getting lax with the sun and that's scary.
21.5.20
Day 71----
I'm realizing, as I watch our street from the fire escape, that a lot of people I assumed were tourists in the past are actually New Yorkers. That this is a real city and not everyone is a trust fund kid dressed to the nines in Mara Hoffman or Acne Studios. Some of us are just middling age and just wear what we can afford and don't get designer haircuts. It's something I like about Chinatown, there's a healthy balance of ordinary people here--surrounded by fashion neighborhoods on all sides, people are not swayed. I know a lot of that is a stark wealth disparity. So it would be wrong to romanticize it. But it is nice not to feel glanced over and found lacking like I do in Soho. It's nice to be completely ignored.
But the main point is, there are no tourists here right now. Lots of hotels are shuttered completely or serving as isolation centers for homeless shelters. But there are still the types of people I assumed were tourists, not many, but some, who look like midwestern suburban housewives.
Look up: jump rope lengths for three year olds.
I'm realizing, as I watch our street from the fire escape, that a lot of people I assumed were tourists in the past are actually New Yorkers. That this is a real city and not everyone is a trust fund kid dressed to the nines in Mara Hoffman or Acne Studios. Some of us are just middling age and just wear what we can afford and don't get designer haircuts. It's something I like about Chinatown, there's a healthy balance of ordinary people here--surrounded by fashion neighborhoods on all sides, people are not swayed. I know a lot of that is a stark wealth disparity. So it would be wrong to romanticize it. But it is nice not to feel glanced over and found lacking like I do in Soho. It's nice to be completely ignored.
But the main point is, there are no tourists here right now. Lots of hotels are shuttered completely or serving as isolation centers for homeless shelters. But there are still the types of people I assumed were tourists, not many, but some, who look like midwestern suburban housewives.
Look up: jump rope lengths for three year olds.
20.5.20
19.5.20
Day 69----
I clicked backwards on my camera and found photos from last August by accident today. It keeps blowing my mind how recent that was. My hair was still bobbed, jesse's still long, bambi's never cut. She was nursing on demand anywhere and everywhere still. Sitting on the ground next to the swings, sunk to the sidewalk next to the bookcart, on subway benches...
I clicked backwards on my camera and found photos from last August by accident today. It keeps blowing my mind how recent that was. My hair was still bobbed, jesse's still long, bambi's never cut. She was nursing on demand anywhere and everywhere still. Sitting on the ground next to the swings, sunk to the sidewalk next to the bookcart, on subway benches...
18.5.20
Day 68----
Is it necessary for a rebellious mother--you know, one who insists on being a real human--to have a placid, submissive child? I often find myself very inconsistently hoping and asking for compliance and naps and quiet independent play from my bambi so I can write, read, booksell, breath. This doesn't have to be this way??? Does it? I guess independent play leads to human-y adults... I was annoyingly submissive as a child but now I'm not. At all. So maybe it's ok? I know I was like that because of cultural conditioning and sexism though and I'm afraid it's seeping through to her despite all our best efforts and crossed out sexism in all her books.
Is it necessary for a rebellious mother--you know, one who insists on being a real human--to have a placid, submissive child? I often find myself very inconsistently hoping and asking for compliance and naps and quiet independent play from my bambi so I can write, read, booksell, breath. This doesn't have to be this way??? Does it? I guess independent play leads to human-y adults... I was annoyingly submissive as a child but now I'm not. At all. So maybe it's ok? I know I was like that because of cultural conditioning and sexism though and I'm afraid it's seeping through to her despite all our best efforts and crossed out sexism in all her books.
17.5.20
16.5.20
Day 66----
In addition to being a log of naptimes, this is becoming an evidence collection point for some future study on "children of the pandemic and a lifetime of phobia".
Riveting. And not at all heartbreaking.
Coming home from a walk she begged to be allowed to walk up the stairs by herself--something we haven't let her do since this all started because this is a six floor walk-up and there's no way to completely clean that stairwell. But she promised to hold my hand, not the railing and be "very very careful" so I let her. On the last flight she lost her balance slightly and steadied herself with her hand on a step (not the railing). She was stricken. She had me carry her the rest of the way and no amounts of assurances that the germs could be washed away with soap in two minutes once we got inside and that she'd be totally fine as long as she didn't touch her [mask covered] face, could comfort her.
In addition to being a log of naptimes, this is becoming an evidence collection point for some future study on "children of the pandemic and a lifetime of phobia".
Riveting. And not at all heartbreaking.
Coming home from a walk she begged to be allowed to walk up the stairs by herself--something we haven't let her do since this all started because this is a six floor walk-up and there's no way to completely clean that stairwell. But she promised to hold my hand, not the railing and be "very very careful" so I let her. On the last flight she lost her balance slightly and steadied herself with her hand on a step (not the railing). She was stricken. She had me carry her the rest of the way and no amounts of assurances that the germs could be washed away with soap in two minutes once we got inside and that she'd be totally fine as long as she didn't touch her [mask covered] face, could comfort her.
15.5.20
14.5.20
Day 64----
We witnessed a sliver of the tragedy of someone's life outside our window today. Maybe I'll write more about it later. But it's hard to relive just the witnessing of it. It's also very very important to see the way this virus decimates lives. Especially right now when it's become politicized and republicans seem to think it's a hoax invented by democrats in New York City.
It also is our ninth anniversary today. We walked to the wine shop a block or so away and got some bubbly that we didn't end up drinking. So tired. We had pizza together then bambi asked us to put a record on and dance. And she insisted we dance together and not with her. It was very sweet. Then we fell asleep early while we chatted in the dark.
We witnessed a sliver of the tragedy of someone's life outside our window today. Maybe I'll write more about it later. But it's hard to relive just the witnessing of it. It's also very very important to see the way this virus decimates lives. Especially right now when it's become politicized and republicans seem to think it's a hoax invented by democrats in New York City.
It also is our ninth anniversary today. We walked to the wine shop a block or so away and got some bubbly that we didn't end up drinking. So tired. We had pizza together then bambi asked us to put a record on and dance. And she insisted we dance together and not with her. It was very sweet. Then we fell asleep early while we chatted in the dark.
13.5.20
12.5.20
Day 62----
A very hard day that started with bambi tugging on my holey old night tee as I put the kettle on the stove and saying, "I have a vewy good Idea, mama!!"
"what is it?"
"we make our tea and coffee and take it to the roof for BREAKFAST!"
"oh! that is a good idea! why don't you go ask dad what he thinks!"
She runs to the bedroom and I hear her say, "Dada!!! We can put the tea and coffee in jars and bring it to the roof!" She actually worked out all the details and got the string bag and carried the blanket up in it.
But then there was no nap and it was so so hard and jesse sent me out with a plastic bag ("put it on a bench and sit somewhere") for gin and tonic ingredients. I sat on a rock by the river for a bit but it felt so dangerous. And I didn't want to take my book out cause I didn't know how to sanitize it properly when I got home. So I stole a bluebell from the garden bed behind the rock and walked home.
A very hard day that started with bambi tugging on my holey old night tee as I put the kettle on the stove and saying, "I have a vewy good Idea, mama!!"
"what is it?"
"we make our tea and coffee and take it to the roof for BREAKFAST!"
"oh! that is a good idea! why don't you go ask dad what he thinks!"
She runs to the bedroom and I hear her say, "Dada!!! We can put the tea and coffee in jars and bring it to the roof!" She actually worked out all the details and got the string bag and carried the blanket up in it.
But then there was no nap and it was so so hard and jesse sent me out with a plastic bag ("put it on a bench and sit somewhere") for gin and tonic ingredients. I sat on a rock by the river for a bit but it felt so dangerous. And I didn't want to take my book out cause I didn't know how to sanitize it properly when I got home. So I stole a bluebell from the garden bed behind the rock and walked home.
11.5.20
Day 61----
I love sitting on the toilet reading while my shower warms--whether I actually have to use it or not. I read until the pages curl with steam then I slide the book under the door to safety.
It's a side effect of coming from a large, puritanical family (who also have genetic digestive issues). If I say I'm using the toilet I can read for indefinite amounts of time, fairly guilt free.
making sure she doesn't drown in the bath.
I love sitting on the toilet reading while my shower warms--whether I actually have to use it or not. I read until the pages curl with steam then I slide the book under the door to safety.
It's a side effect of coming from a large, puritanical family (who also have genetic digestive issues). If I say I'm using the toilet I can read for indefinite amounts of time, fairly guilt free.
making sure she doesn't drown in the bath.
10.5.20
Day 60----
Jesse walked to the shop and got us popsicles and we ate them on the roof. The surface of the roof was very warm--hard to believe it had just snowed. Across the way on another rooftop we saw a few kids playing. bambi stood up and called "hi kids!" A little boy stopped what her was doing and waved. She waved back. Then they stood there staring at each other, her popsicle dripping blood like splotches on the silver roof. She looked over at me and whispered, "now what do I say???" --which, just, same, bambi, same. These poor, lonely, New York kids.
mother's day drawings: "a gust of wind" and "a dinosaur with very sharp teeth".
A failed nap
Jesse walked to the shop and got us popsicles and we ate them on the roof. The surface of the roof was very warm--hard to believe it had just snowed. Across the way on another rooftop we saw a few kids playing. bambi stood up and called "hi kids!" A little boy stopped what her was doing and waved. She waved back. Then they stood there staring at each other, her popsicle dripping blood like splotches on the silver roof. She looked over at me and whispered, "now what do I say???" --which, just, same, bambi, same. These poor, lonely, New York kids.
mother's day drawings: "a gust of wind" and "a dinosaur with very sharp teeth".
A failed nap
9.5.20
Day 59----
Today it snowed twice. It's been the coldest May on record since the 70s. When bambi saw the snow she said, " How is this HAPPENING? This snow is so COMPLICATED!!" Yet another installment of our unsprung spring.
I feel very safe in our apartment today. Everything we need for survival crammed in this tiny space perched above the tragic streets. I'm laying in bed reading a fat paperback, my belly full of bread pudding, radiators rattling industriously.
But also there's a beep in the airshaft that's been going on all day and was too loud in her room for bambi to sleep. I laid down on the old flattened sheepskin next to her much too small crib to try and coax her then fell asleep myself while she stared at me. I could hear the beeps all through the miserable sleep--definitely despair sleep. My neck hurt so much and I couldn't feel one arm when I woke up.... one cheek deeply imprinted with sheep fur.
note: around 10pm the fire department arrived en-mass all up and down the block, entered the building next door and a few minutes later re-emerged and the beeping had stopped.
Today it snowed twice. It's been the coldest May on record since the 70s. When bambi saw the snow she said, " How is this HAPPENING? This snow is so COMPLICATED!!" Yet another installment of our unsprung spring.
I feel very safe in our apartment today. Everything we need for survival crammed in this tiny space perched above the tragic streets. I'm laying in bed reading a fat paperback, my belly full of bread pudding, radiators rattling industriously.
But also there's a beep in the airshaft that's been going on all day and was too loud in her room for bambi to sleep. I laid down on the old flattened sheepskin next to her much too small crib to try and coax her then fell asleep myself while she stared at me. I could hear the beeps all through the miserable sleep--definitely despair sleep. My neck hurt so much and I couldn't feel one arm when I woke up.... one cheek deeply imprinted with sheep fur.
note: around 10pm the fire department arrived en-mass all up and down the block, entered the building next door and a few minutes later re-emerged and the beeping had stopped.
8.5.20
Day 58----
An old friend asked me to write a piece on quarantine reading habits for her website. I've been working on it since last week but haven't had the best times to write. So I've been writing paragraphs at random while bambi is facetiming with my parents, in the moments before I start her a movie on this computer, when I step out of the shower-- sometimes just lists of ideas I want to add. So today during a--now rare--nap I actually got a chance to unravel, make coherency of the lists, re-order, rewrite, add all the references and quotes I'd been paraphrasing before. When I was banished from the bedroom for one of jesse's work meetings, I gathered up a several foot high pile of books. "Are you really going to need all of those??? This meeting is only thirty minutes!" I did.
Bambi stirs then resettles. Jesse ends his work call and tip toes past me to make the coffee. I feel justified by my obvious use of all books. I write a few minutes longer, finally happy with the bit about my inland sea I thought I would have to cut. Suddenly bambi calls, "Dada! dada? DADA!" then in alarm, "oh NO!" we both converge on her door to see her standing in her crib, curls all on end, "I slept without my night light!" --in the broad daylight. Though to be fair, we usually leave it on.
"Did I wake you with my noise in the kitchen?" jesse asks.
"No," she replies, "I ended my sleep myself." then after a pause, "Did I sleep?!!!"
As a reward for a nap well napped she gets to watch a little tv and a movie. I walk to the kitchen, pull the big green pot forward on the stove, splash the bottom with oil and let the popcorn kernels dance till they are too crowded to bounce. We share a bowl of it on the couch, dipping each kernel into our glasses of orange juice.
The popcorn gives this tiny little hiss when you dip it in the juice and its so satisfying.
An old friend asked me to write a piece on quarantine reading habits for her website. I've been working on it since last week but haven't had the best times to write. So I've been writing paragraphs at random while bambi is facetiming with my parents, in the moments before I start her a movie on this computer, when I step out of the shower-- sometimes just lists of ideas I want to add. So today during a--now rare--nap I actually got a chance to unravel, make coherency of the lists, re-order, rewrite, add all the references and quotes I'd been paraphrasing before. When I was banished from the bedroom for one of jesse's work meetings, I gathered up a several foot high pile of books. "Are you really going to need all of those??? This meeting is only thirty minutes!" I did.
Bambi stirs then resettles. Jesse ends his work call and tip toes past me to make the coffee. I feel justified by my obvious use of all books. I write a few minutes longer, finally happy with the bit about my inland sea I thought I would have to cut. Suddenly bambi calls, "Dada! dada? DADA!" then in alarm, "oh NO!" we both converge on her door to see her standing in her crib, curls all on end, "I slept without my night light!" --in the broad daylight. Though to be fair, we usually leave it on.
"Did I wake you with my noise in the kitchen?" jesse asks.
"No," she replies, "I ended my sleep myself." then after a pause, "Did I sleep?!!!"
As a reward for a nap well napped she gets to watch a little tv and a movie. I walk to the kitchen, pull the big green pot forward on the stove, splash the bottom with oil and let the popcorn kernels dance till they are too crowded to bounce. We share a bowl of it on the couch, dipping each kernel into our glasses of orange juice.
The popcorn gives this tiny little hiss when you dip it in the juice and its so satisfying.
7.5.20
Day 57----
Yesterday I spent way too much time reading anti-vaxxers' comments saying they think all states should re-open AND that there's no way they are taking a vaccine whenever one is developed for covid-19. Doubly angry because I know these are the views of our own family members. Finally I tossed my phone aside--then picked it back up--and called bambi's pediatrician and scheduled her three year shots. And they had an opening today. So that's what we did today.
She was so brave--she wore her favorite orange dress, insisted on sitting next to me on the bench, instead of on me. And just clasped her hands tight tight tight and stared straight ahead till the nurse came in.
Masks are mandatory now so she was just sitting there in her flowered scarf turned mask (I tie it above her little ponytail so it doesn't slide down). But when the doctor needed to check her ears and throat and asked her to pull it down for a minute she lost all composure. She clutched it to her mouth and shouted, "I need my mask!!!"
We walked past a lot of our old places and may have seen acquaintances-- shop clerks on nodding terms-- but its so hard to tell behind masks. We all just smiled and nodded. The [lolli]popp-y quickly banishing all emotional need for her mask and I let it slide and steered the stroller well over six feet from everyone to be safe.
Yesterday I spent way too much time reading anti-vaxxers' comments saying they think all states should re-open AND that there's no way they are taking a vaccine whenever one is developed for covid-19. Doubly angry because I know these are the views of our own family members. Finally I tossed my phone aside--then picked it back up--and called bambi's pediatrician and scheduled her three year shots. And they had an opening today. So that's what we did today.
She was so brave--she wore her favorite orange dress, insisted on sitting next to me on the bench, instead of on me. And just clasped her hands tight tight tight and stared straight ahead till the nurse came in.
Masks are mandatory now so she was just sitting there in her flowered scarf turned mask (I tie it above her little ponytail so it doesn't slide down). But when the doctor needed to check her ears and throat and asked her to pull it down for a minute she lost all composure. She clutched it to her mouth and shouted, "I need my mask!!!"
We walked past a lot of our old places and may have seen acquaintances-- shop clerks on nodding terms-- but its so hard to tell behind masks. We all just smiled and nodded. The [lolli]popp-y quickly banishing all emotional need for her mask and I let it slide and steered the stroller well over six feet from everyone to be safe.
6.5.20
Day 56----
I'm at the kitchen table listening to the creak of the kettle, the rain in the airshaft, the murmur of jesse's work call, the neighbor's music--and yet it feels very still. All muffled through my hair, and through my fuzzy brain. I wish I had a really engrossing read. I've felt very secure in my book stock till now and there are still a lot I haven't read but I can see the end and that's unsettling for a mood based reader.
A video was released of a lynching, two months ago. More and more statistics of who exactly are dying from covid-19 come out everyday. This is why I have to swallow my conflict aversion when people around me are racist. As a Christian, who is has a phobia of conflict, I truly think it is more important to speak up against racism inside the church (and outside but, let's be honest, it's mostly inside) than it is to witness to those outside the church. For many reasons, but how are we to ever have any platform to say anything when this festering center is allowed to remain???
I'm at the kitchen table listening to the creak of the kettle, the rain in the airshaft, the murmur of jesse's work call, the neighbor's music--and yet it feels very still. All muffled through my hair, and through my fuzzy brain. I wish I had a really engrossing read. I've felt very secure in my book stock till now and there are still a lot I haven't read but I can see the end and that's unsettling for a mood based reader.
A video was released of a lynching, two months ago. More and more statistics of who exactly are dying from covid-19 come out everyday. This is why I have to swallow my conflict aversion when people around me are racist. As a Christian, who is has a phobia of conflict, I truly think it is more important to speak up against racism inside the church (and outside but, let's be honest, it's mostly inside) than it is to witness to those outside the church. For many reasons, but how are we to ever have any platform to say anything when this festering center is allowed to remain???
5.5.20
Day 55----
An absolutely furious me. Furious about everything and everyone. It wasn't fair. But it also just was. I made jesse coffee, poured myself a cup and didn't bring him one. On purpose. Which kind of backfired because it was so ridiculous that I started laughing at myself. Which is so annoying when you're FURIOUS.
An absolutely furious me. Furious about everything and everyone. It wasn't fair. But it also just was. I made jesse coffee, poured myself a cup and didn't bring him one. On purpose. Which kind of backfired because it was so ridiculous that I started laughing at myself. Which is so annoying when you're FURIOUS.
4.5.20
Day 54----
Between books so I took a big stack out on the fire escape with tea and cake while she napped. I didn't settle on anything. It was very windy and the pair of jeans out there drying with me whipped around me.
Later bambi and I walked around the block to the river and back. She saw a single scraggly tree on Market Street-- with leaves on it! "TREE!!!!" she gasped. It was so sad and I was just as astonished and excited.
Between books so I took a big stack out on the fire escape with tea and cake while she napped. I didn't settle on anything. It was very windy and the pair of jeans out there drying with me whipped around me.
Later bambi and I walked around the block to the river and back. She saw a single scraggly tree on Market Street-- with leaves on it! "TREE!!!!" she gasped. It was so sad and I was just as astonished and excited.
3.5.20
Day 53----
The chef from the diner down the street was walking up and down the block asking people for a hanger--I was hanging socks on the fire escape to dry and overheard him ask the lady across the street. She didn't have one and he continued on down the block. She glanced up at me and we made eye contact--that New York kind of thing when something random happens. You find one person to share it with then move on. But I called down, "did he say hanger? I think I have one!" She called him back-- he stopped mid mime as he tried to communicate his need to an old man and ran back toward us. I said I'd be right back, ducked inside and found one with a jumpsuit I never wear on it-- it fell to the floor of the closet and I'll probably never find it again-- back out on the fire escape, "You want a wire one, right?" he did. "Do you mind if I throw it down? I don't want to hit you!" he did not. It landed in the carless street and he said, "Thank you! How are you guys??" so now he knows where we live and I'm very ok with that. I'm happy he still remembers us.
Jesse made an elaborate dinner and a cake-- when either of us make elaborate foods it usually means we are at our limit. It buys us alone time... the more elaborate it is, the more time we get. It was very very good.
I couldn't eat much of it though cause of a canker sore. My neck can almost bend normally now though! Jesse rubbed it for ages this morning while we both read and bambi ate nuts and chocolate out of a cup on our bed.
The chef from the diner down the street was walking up and down the block asking people for a hanger--I was hanging socks on the fire escape to dry and overheard him ask the lady across the street. She didn't have one and he continued on down the block. She glanced up at me and we made eye contact--that New York kind of thing when something random happens. You find one person to share it with then move on. But I called down, "did he say hanger? I think I have one!" She called him back-- he stopped mid mime as he tried to communicate his need to an old man and ran back toward us. I said I'd be right back, ducked inside and found one with a jumpsuit I never wear on it-- it fell to the floor of the closet and I'll probably never find it again-- back out on the fire escape, "You want a wire one, right?" he did. "Do you mind if I throw it down? I don't want to hit you!" he did not. It landed in the carless street and he said, "Thank you! How are you guys??" so now he knows where we live and I'm very ok with that. I'm happy he still remembers us.
Jesse made an elaborate dinner and a cake-- when either of us make elaborate foods it usually means we are at our limit. It buys us alone time... the more elaborate it is, the more time we get. It was very very good.
I couldn't eat much of it though cause of a canker sore. My neck can almost bend normally now though! Jesse rubbed it for ages this morning while we both read and bambi ate nuts and chocolate out of a cup on our bed.
2.5.20
Day 52----
The sun came out finally and we snuck back up to the roof. I'm starting to worry about bambi's vitamin D levels. Jesse and I can go out on the fire escape (if its dry, if she naps), but she can't. We do get a lot of south facing sunlight but still. She hasn't been outside in a month, I think.
Jesse packed a picnic, we brought our books and hers and told her we couldn't leave the blanket once we got up there. We sat on the back roof where there's a tree. It didn't have many leaves yet.
She drank decaf iced coffee and hasn't napped since.
The sun came out finally and we snuck back up to the roof. I'm starting to worry about bambi's vitamin D levels. Jesse and I can go out on the fire escape (if its dry, if she naps), but she can't. We do get a lot of south facing sunlight but still. She hasn't been outside in a month, I think.
Jesse packed a picnic, we brought our books and hers and told her we couldn't leave the blanket once we got up there. We sat on the back roof where there's a tree. It didn't have many leaves yet.
She drank decaf iced coffee and hasn't napped since.
1.5.20
Day 51----
There's been a distinct shift since hitting the fifty day mark--just too much. We had a relatively pleasant rhythm for a few weeks and now we are all mad. And weepy (me). And can't bend our necks (me).
"They managed to be so busy doing the little they had to do.... even when they took a rest in the afternoon they made it sound like an assignment to be filled in a busy day."
A Start In Life p. 48 by Anita Brookner
I find myself angrily or vindicatedly scribbling "spring 2020, NYC, covid-19 pandemic" in glaringly incongruous passages or eerily applicable ones. Both will do.
I guess I've had trouble taking photos in this mood.
There's been a distinct shift since hitting the fifty day mark--just too much. We had a relatively pleasant rhythm for a few weeks and now we are all mad. And weepy (me). And can't bend our necks (me).
"They managed to be so busy doing the little they had to do.... even when they took a rest in the afternoon they made it sound like an assignment to be filled in a busy day."
A Start In Life p. 48 by Anita Brookner
I find myself angrily or vindicatedly scribbling "spring 2020, NYC, covid-19 pandemic" in glaringly incongruous passages or eerily applicable ones. Both will do.
I guess I've had trouble taking photos in this mood.
30.4.20
Day 50----
Pulling the wooden spoon across the bottom of the pot then pausing to watch the divided sides of porridge rejoin while I half listen to the radio. They are talking about the effects of Covid-19 on gang activity in Chicago... I'm learning about organizations I always wondered about their existence--anti-violence groups who aren't cops. Weird that after living there even I'm only hearing about this during the global pandemic when they can't do their job--while I'm over stirring porridge for the pleasure of the red sea divide.
My grandpa died two years ago today. I woke up with a stiff neck and can't bend it.
Pulling the wooden spoon across the bottom of the pot then pausing to watch the divided sides of porridge rejoin while I half listen to the radio. They are talking about the effects of Covid-19 on gang activity in Chicago... I'm learning about organizations I always wondered about their existence--anti-violence groups who aren't cops. Weird that after living there even I'm only hearing about this during the global pandemic when they can't do their job--while I'm over stirring porridge for the pleasure of the red sea divide.
My grandpa died two years ago today. I woke up with a stiff neck and can't bend it.
29.4.20
Day 49----
While I peed this morning bambi whimpered in the doorway the whole time. And the cat jumped up on the bathroom stool, looked me in the eye and swiped my book off the stool-- it landed in her water bowl, side swiping her food bowl, scattering dried food all across the bathroom floor.
reading: a damp Live or Die by Anne Sexton. Some of the poetry was quite good but I don't think I like her much.
While I peed this morning bambi whimpered in the doorway the whole time. And the cat jumped up on the bathroom stool, looked me in the eye and swiped my book off the stool-- it landed in her water bowl, side swiping her food bowl, scattering dried food all across the bathroom floor.
reading: a damp Live or Die by Anne Sexton. Some of the poetry was quite good but I don't think I like her much.
28.4.20
27.4.20
Day 47----
Today lacked structure. I was on my phone a lot. I cleared out a drawer looking for an eraser and found an old mock up for a bookmark I never made for the bookcart. It said, "Saturdays, 3pm (unless rain, disease, etc)".
I'll never make a joke in private again.
reading: The Vagrants by Yiyun Li-- one of the reasons I was on my phone so much: having to google every event and revolutionary mentioned.
Today lacked structure. I was on my phone a lot. I cleared out a drawer looking for an eraser and found an old mock up for a bookmark I never made for the bookcart. It said, "Saturdays, 3pm (unless rain, disease, etc)".
I'll never make a joke in private again.
reading: The Vagrants by Yiyun Li-- one of the reasons I was on my phone so much: having to google every event and revolutionary mentioned.
26.4.20
Day 46----
I wear glasses all day more often now. The new ones fit better, are prettier, etc, but mostly just why not.
The first sip of tea once breakfast is made--clouds-- and I'm trying to listen to the radio story of coronavirus reuniting a man with his estranged mother and my three year old asking why they aren't "playing the news" instead --clears, as I explain Sunday radio programming, omitting the bit where the morning news show host just died on Friday.
Oh and the earlier clouding as I pour the water over the grounds, waiting both for the bloom and the clearing to continue pouring. As I lift the lid to check on the porridge progress--cloud and clear.
The half forgotten instances from childhood in a very rainy corner of the country--the first minute or two when I burst into the Wheelock Branch Library, Tacoma, Wa. The blind fumble for any scrap of fabric both dry and non-woolen--surely the only option can't be my underwear.
It's raining again. Sometimes I wonder if New York is rainier then Washington... certainly now it might be. The clouding of cold rain and warm shops won't be a problem here today.
The brief cloud of panicked breath in a mask--now maybe that.
The cloud while reading from turtle necked pulled over my lower face against the damp greyness pervading the apartment--certainly that.
And now bambi is watching Ponyo again--that steam filled kitchen clouding windows as the mom (is she the best portrayal of motherhood for children? possibly.) stuffs greens into the pot. As she pours boiling water over the kids' noodles, "Careful! It's hot!" clouds of steam "Don't peek, Ponyo! Abracadabra!" their faces disappear in it as they dance in place with glee. Bambi turns to me, "can I have that too? When this is done and you make me honey tea? And you say 'cadabra!!' like that??!"
I wear glasses all day more often now. The new ones fit better, are prettier, etc, but mostly just why not.
The first sip of tea once breakfast is made--clouds-- and I'm trying to listen to the radio story of coronavirus reuniting a man with his estranged mother and my three year old asking why they aren't "playing the news" instead --clears, as I explain Sunday radio programming, omitting the bit where the morning news show host just died on Friday.
Oh and the earlier clouding as I pour the water over the grounds, waiting both for the bloom and the clearing to continue pouring. As I lift the lid to check on the porridge progress--cloud and clear.
The half forgotten instances from childhood in a very rainy corner of the country--the first minute or two when I burst into the Wheelock Branch Library, Tacoma, Wa. The blind fumble for any scrap of fabric both dry and non-woolen--surely the only option can't be my underwear.
It's raining again. Sometimes I wonder if New York is rainier then Washington... certainly now it might be. The clouding of cold rain and warm shops won't be a problem here today.
The brief cloud of panicked breath in a mask--now maybe that.
The cloud while reading from turtle necked pulled over my lower face against the damp greyness pervading the apartment--certainly that.
And now bambi is watching Ponyo again--that steam filled kitchen clouding windows as the mom (is she the best portrayal of motherhood for children? possibly.) stuffs greens into the pot. As she pours boiling water over the kids' noodles, "Careful! It's hot!" clouds of steam "Don't peek, Ponyo! Abracadabra!" their faces disappear in it as they dance in place with glee. Bambi turns to me, "can I have that too? When this is done and you make me honey tea? And you say 'cadabra!!' like that??!"
25.4.20
24.4.20
Day 44----
It's late friday afternoon and so quiet. I'm sitting at the kitchen table here in the back of the apartment--I can hear bambi murmuring to her animals and dolls in the "liver room", a mourning dove cooing in the air shaft. Every now and then a bus passes four stories below on rain soaked streets--no other traffic really--just busses and ambulances.
I just made bambi some popcorn and I'm drinking a little coffee--normally I stick with tea lately but I forgot to make it and jesse had some coffee leftover in the silver pot.
Before this I regularly had an afternoon coffee. Take out from the local spot on the way to the playground to drink there or on the church steps or drunk hastily as I push the stroller to the library so I don't doze in the warmth and safety of it all. But now I prefer tea if I'm making things at home.
We've written letters to my grandmas and bambi's... no nap... but oddly pleasant. I gave her a book I've had stashed away. To fill up the last hour or so before dinner. In the dim and quiet of end of week.
It's late friday afternoon and so quiet. I'm sitting at the kitchen table here in the back of the apartment--I can hear bambi murmuring to her animals and dolls in the "liver room", a mourning dove cooing in the air shaft. Every now and then a bus passes four stories below on rain soaked streets--no other traffic really--just busses and ambulances.
I just made bambi some popcorn and I'm drinking a little coffee--normally I stick with tea lately but I forgot to make it and jesse had some coffee leftover in the silver pot.
Before this I regularly had an afternoon coffee. Take out from the local spot on the way to the playground to drink there or on the church steps or drunk hastily as I push the stroller to the library so I don't doze in the warmth and safety of it all. But now I prefer tea if I'm making things at home.
We've written letters to my grandmas and bambi's... no nap... but oddly pleasant. I gave her a book I've had stashed away. To fill up the last hour or so before dinner. In the dim and quiet of end of week.
23.4.20
Day 43----
I wrote a lot again. That's coming easier and I just read a bit from another Ostriker book that's reinforced my resolve on writing everything down. Even at the point of isolation where I spend a lot of time analyzing the cat hairs, bits of clay, and other unknown objects in the matted piles of my very cheap rug on which I am laying because bambi and the cat have taken over the whole couch while they watch Kiki's Delivery Service and sleep, respectively. I just lay there and write it all down.
I wrote a lot again. That's coming easier and I just read a bit from another Ostriker book that's reinforced my resolve on writing everything down. Even at the point of isolation where I spend a lot of time analyzing the cat hairs, bits of clay, and other unknown objects in the matted piles of my very cheap rug on which I am laying because bambi and the cat have taken over the whole couch while they watch Kiki's Delivery Service and sleep, respectively. I just lay there and write it all down.
"The writer who is a mother should, I think, record everything she can: make notes, keep journals, take photographs, use a tape recorder, and remind herself that there is a subject of incalculably vast significance to humanity, about which virtually nothing is known because writers have not been mothers."
-Alicia Suskin Ostriker, Writing Like a Woman p. 131This is becoming less and less true now, nevertheless, I will still keep on. I was thinking about the years of otherness I felt when I was a nanny--spending every waking moment and often the sleeping ones too with children but never accepted as a mother. And then the time after the miscarriage, as an invisible mother. And when the nannying and that overlapped. A side effect of the othering of the voice of mothers-- telling women to keep it to themselves-- is the exclusive click of motherhood. The looking down on women who are not mothers. This is especially true in a church setting where motherhood is the only acceptable role/ the assumed goal of all women (but please shut up about it--you sound desperate). Therefore, a women who isn't must just be pining for motherhood or an enemy of it--either option are pitiable and exclusion worthy in the eyes of the in crowd.
22.4.20
Day 42----
I'm beginning to wonder if we are being paranoid by not going out for walks even. It is suspicious that this wondering aligns with the first sunny day in some time-- but most people are going out for daily walks. With masks, obviously, but still. In the UK they're even encouraged to get out for one hour a day. It could be that I'm just seeing people going out for walks on social media who live near Central Park or one of the other big parks. And London has so much more green space. My friend who lives up in the Bronx with three small boys, her husband and her mom hasn't taken her kids out in weeks. So I think that must be it. She says there's not enough space to take them out. That's also true here in Chinatown. I go on and on about that. But it's never been so starkly evidenced as it is now.
I wrote a lot more today. It was a napless day and I didn't take a photo to record it. To record the impatience and despair that the lack of alone time induces in me. The swift tears and shouts in her. But I sat down and wrote a lot.
I'm beginning to wonder if we are being paranoid by not going out for walks even. It is suspicious that this wondering aligns with the first sunny day in some time-- but most people are going out for daily walks. With masks, obviously, but still. In the UK they're even encouraged to get out for one hour a day. It could be that I'm just seeing people going out for walks on social media who live near Central Park or one of the other big parks. And London has so much more green space. My friend who lives up in the Bronx with three small boys, her husband and her mom hasn't taken her kids out in weeks. So I think that must be it. She says there's not enough space to take them out. That's also true here in Chinatown. I go on and on about that. But it's never been so starkly evidenced as it is now.
I wrote a lot more today. It was a napless day and I didn't take a photo to record it. To record the impatience and despair that the lack of alone time induces in me. The swift tears and shouts in her. But I sat down and wrote a lot.
21.4.20
20.4.20
Day 40----
Breathes inside a mask are never quite enough--
walk faster--
get there and back--
is this six feet? Before, behind and to my side?--
I've never known. Maybe they know--
they do not. Did I remember to smile?--
so they can see it in my eyes?
Did they communicate all I cannot with my mouth before or now--
my ally-ship?
I'm not afraid.
This distance is for you and me.
My gratitude for your culture of mask wearing.
My you were right and we were wrong.
The fact that I will always wear a mask for any illness now on.
My neighbor, I miss our silent companionships.
Our nods on sun-baked sidewalk homes for cats.
over our children's play, while we sit fearlessly side by side.
All that in one split hold of eye--
then back to measuring the distances
between you and me and lobster homes.
Breathes inside a mask are never quite enough--
walk faster--
get there and back--
is this six feet? Before, behind and to my side?--
I've never known. Maybe they know--
they do not. Did I remember to smile?--
so they can see it in my eyes?
Did they communicate all I cannot with my mouth before or now--
my ally-ship?
I'm not afraid.
This distance is for you and me.
My gratitude for your culture of mask wearing.
My you were right and we were wrong.
The fact that I will always wear a mask for any illness now on.
My neighbor, I miss our silent companionships.
Our nods on sun-baked sidewalk homes for cats.
over our children's play, while we sit fearlessly side by side.
All that in one split hold of eye--
then back to measuring the distances
between you and me and lobster homes.
19.4.20
Day 39----
The breezes are room temperature again--that temperature where you can lie naked on top of your bed in intermitted sunbeams, caressed by wind and man.
reading: Feminist Revision and the Bible by Alicia Suskin Ostriker. Every other sentence prompted me to pull more and more and more books of poetry off my shelves. Never have I been prouder of my library--that they were all there at my fingertips. I emerged from a haze at the end of naptime surrounded by a precarious nest of poetry.
Actually, before she woke, jesse asked me if I felt smarter than him, as he gazed at me furiously reading ten books at once, making notes in all. He said that when we first got married he thought he was smarter (ha!) and that I was fiercely anti-intellectual but that now he doesn't think that and he worries that I'll be bored by him. I object slightly--I obviously was smart enough back then to know that intellectualism wasn't intelligence--often to the detriment of my own image. His friends did not think I was smart at all and I felt very superior and smug that they were so shallow and college-y to misread the situation so deeply. BUT, I think I'm still anti-intellectual. I hate being inconsistent. And I know that people think people who read are automatically intellectual but that's bullshit. Maybe I'm cleverer about how I am an anti-intellectual now, but I still am. That's why I call the bookcart Common Books. I'm opposed to books as the intellectual version of get rich quick schemes. They should be for pure joy. If it bores you, toss it out the fucking window. And I think women writers should be household names just as much--more even--than the coiner of that phrase is.
That said, it does give me joy to be able to draw from an ever increasing pile of poetry. AND THAT IS NOT INTELLECTUAL.
Also, I am not smarter than jesse. Very equally smart. I concluded and he did too.
Lucille Clifton on Mary:
"i wonder/ could i have fought these thing?... i wonder/ could i have walked away when voices/ singing in my sleep?"
-"island mary" from good woman p. 202
"woman shook by the / awe full affection of the saints." p. 203
"so many eyes. such light, ... /joseph, i shine, oh joseph, oh/ illuminated night."
-"holy night" p. 200
When "ecstasy becomes normalcy" for Mary -Alicia Suskin Ostriker (Feminist Revision and the Bible p. 85).
The thoughts of women-- I always replace the thoughts of the mother in Blueberries for Sal, I vary it each time a little--bambi expects it and nods approvingly now--but I am always thinking too small. Making her think about "the novel she's writing" or the dissertation, or the ... just like a kid saying what they want to be when they grow up. These though, THESE are the real thoughts... exactly what Mary must have grappled with the rest of her life. Her mind never again quiet.
Sometimes I think I hear, in the silence left behind the M-15, a beer can bounce down the street.
And then I realize, that that is what I heard.
The breezes are room temperature again--that temperature where you can lie naked on top of your bed in intermitted sunbeams, caressed by wind and man.
reading: Feminist Revision and the Bible by Alicia Suskin Ostriker. Every other sentence prompted me to pull more and more and more books of poetry off my shelves. Never have I been prouder of my library--that they were all there at my fingertips. I emerged from a haze at the end of naptime surrounded by a precarious nest of poetry.
Actually, before she woke, jesse asked me if I felt smarter than him, as he gazed at me furiously reading ten books at once, making notes in all. He said that when we first got married he thought he was smarter (ha!) and that I was fiercely anti-intellectual but that now he doesn't think that and he worries that I'll be bored by him. I object slightly--I obviously was smart enough back then to know that intellectualism wasn't intelligence--often to the detriment of my own image. His friends did not think I was smart at all and I felt very superior and smug that they were so shallow and college-y to misread the situation so deeply. BUT, I think I'm still anti-intellectual. I hate being inconsistent. And I know that people think people who read are automatically intellectual but that's bullshit. Maybe I'm cleverer about how I am an anti-intellectual now, but I still am. That's why I call the bookcart Common Books. I'm opposed to books as the intellectual version of get rich quick schemes. They should be for pure joy. If it bores you, toss it out the fucking window. And I think women writers should be household names just as much--more even--than the coiner of that phrase is.
That said, it does give me joy to be able to draw from an ever increasing pile of poetry. AND THAT IS NOT INTELLECTUAL.
Also, I am not smarter than jesse. Very equally smart. I concluded and he did too.
Lucille Clifton on Mary:
"i wonder/ could i have fought these thing?... i wonder/ could i have walked away when voices/ singing in my sleep?"
-"island mary" from good woman p. 202
"woman shook by the / awe full affection of the saints." p. 203
"so many eyes. such light, ... /joseph, i shine, oh joseph, oh/ illuminated night."
-"holy night" p. 200
When "ecstasy becomes normalcy" for Mary -Alicia Suskin Ostriker (Feminist Revision and the Bible p. 85).
The thoughts of women-- I always replace the thoughts of the mother in Blueberries for Sal, I vary it each time a little--bambi expects it and nods approvingly now--but I am always thinking too small. Making her think about "the novel she's writing" or the dissertation, or the ... just like a kid saying what they want to be when they grow up. These though, THESE are the real thoughts... exactly what Mary must have grappled with the rest of her life. Her mind never again quiet.
Sometimes I think I hear, in the silence left behind the M-15, a beer can bounce down the street.
And then I realize, that that is what I heard.
18.4.20
17.4.20
Day 37----
Things I do now: wash tinfoil. make anyone in earshot pause and listen to the mourning dove--the one who murmurs all day long. Sirens and turtle doves. And piles of books for a 20 min moment alone. To decide what to read next.
Several people I vaguely know have gotten book deals these past few weeks. I want that too. And everytime someone asks if and when I'm writing I feel relief and unease. I don't want the privilege of writing. I want to fit it in with something else. And never get criticized. So I'll be further behind these people. I already am so I guess I'm on track, with that.
I'll just keep reading for now.
reading: Autumn by Ali Smith--why not pretend it's fall. Or just not care that I'm reading out of season. Governor's Island announced that it would not open on May 1. They don't know when. And that is summer. They also announced that NYC public pools would not open this season at all.
Also, I couldn't find Spring.
Things I do now: wash tinfoil. make anyone in earshot pause and listen to the mourning dove--the one who murmurs all day long. Sirens and turtle doves. And piles of books for a 20 min moment alone. To decide what to read next.
Several people I vaguely know have gotten book deals these past few weeks. I want that too. And everytime someone asks if and when I'm writing I feel relief and unease. I don't want the privilege of writing. I want to fit it in with something else. And never get criticized. So I'll be further behind these people. I already am so I guess I'm on track, with that.
I'll just keep reading for now.
reading: Autumn by Ali Smith--why not pretend it's fall. Or just not care that I'm reading out of season. Governor's Island announced that it would not open on May 1. They don't know when. And that is summer. They also announced that NYC public pools would not open this season at all.
Also, I couldn't find Spring.
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