A reader named Lefty 100 writes to inform us that the most Brooklyn of authors, Norman Mailer, will be at the New York Society for Ethical Culture in MANHATTAN with his son, John Buffalo Mailer, on March 2nd. Thanks to Lefty for the heads up.

NORMAN MAILER & JOHN BUFFALO MAILER
MODERATED BY DOTSON RADER

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN A FATHER AND HIS SON ON
WHAT IT MEANS TO LIVE IN AMERICA TODAY

A unique and unforgettable opportunity to join Norman Mailer and his
son, John Buffalo Mailer, for an intergenerational sparring match as
they discuss their new book, The Big Empty: A Dialogue on Politics,
Sex, God, Boxing, Morality, Myth, Poker and Bad Conscience in America.

A book signing of The Big Empty will follow the event

Thursday, March 2nd, 7:00 p.m.

The New York Society for Ethical Culture, 2 West 64th Street at
Central Park West, New York City

Doors open 6:00 p.m.

FREE. FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE

Presented by Nations Books (www.nationbooks.org) and co-sponsored by
The New York Society for Ethical Culture.

Continue reading NORMAN AND JOHN MAILER →

YOU COULD BE A BIG WINNER.

Pick a Brooklyn street name and if it’s the same Brooklyn street name I’m thinking of you will WIN a free Hugh Crawford photograph.

E-mail me your answer. Or just come to the Old Stone House (Fifth Avenue between 3rd and 4th Streets) on Saturday February 11th to the Design Collective Valentine’s Day Sale. Jewelry, clothing, lingerie, accessories, bags, lots of loverly things.

On Saturday, HUGH CRAWFORD will taking portrait and selling framed and unframed photographs at the OLD STONE HOUSE. The portrait sitting is free – and prints can be purchased on Smugmug.  PHOTOS MAKE GREAT GIFTS.

E-mail me your Brooklyn street name. NOW.

Life is different now that Husband has a big job in Manhattan. Last night he came home at 10 p.m. He’s back to his old tricks of working late at the office. Back in the day when he was working for the uber-computer corporation he’s stay until 3 or 4 in the morning. Just you and the cleaning staff – I used to say.

Three years ago – he was outsourced from the uber-computer corporation and we had him all to ourselves. First there was severance – glorious severance. Then unemployment. Then Husband worked hard on his photography career – something he’d wanted to get back to for years – and was beginning to acrue a list of loyal clients.

But he was also around to prepare incredible dinners, pick Daughter up from school, become a major role model to Son. He was so around I was happy to have my office out of the apartment so that we weren’t on top of each other all day. But it was fun to meet for sushi lunch and do other stuff during the day. Once, we went to the Brooklyn Museum during the day. That was to see the Basquiat show and it was a treat.

But now…He’s distracted the way new jobs distract you. He’s stressed in that way that new jobs stress you. He’s busy in that way…

Fortunately he’s still making time for the photography career. On Saturday he will be selling pictures at the Old Stone House…

The last there years were an experiment in trying to survive without full time jobs. Both of us had lots of freelance work and were just about making ends meet. Now we’re back in the race. Thanks to Husband’s new job, we’ve got health insurance (starting in March), benefits, retirement stuff, stock options and all the rest.

Consequently, we’re passing like ships in the night. The family didn’t eat dinner together yesterday.  Husband even missed American Idol. He came home late just like he used to – all tired and spent.

But hey, it’s a living.

Here’s an idea for Valentine’s Day. Ball of Fire, a movie with the great Barbara Stanwyck with a screenplay by Billy Wilder. At BAM.

Celebrate Valentine

Sister, Daughter, Ducky and I spent yesterday afternoon at the Atlantic Center. We were mostly at Target of course, which is its own vortex, its own reality, its own zone of consciousness.

I mostly hate malls but they are such a novelty in New York. And it’s easy to get out of them…you just walk out. Easy escape.

This mall, Ratner’s mall, isn’t too oppressive. It would be a total nothing, as far as I’m concerned, without the Target. But it does have the Guitar Center, Payless, Children’s Place, ah, that’s pretty much it. And the Chucky Cheese, which looms on the top floor is probably one of the weirdest, scariest, noisiest children’s "attractions" I’ve ever seen.

But Target is pretty fun for a limited amount of time. If you stay to long you start hallucinating: Red spirals, red spirals, red spirals.

No surprise, my daughter loves to buy her clothing there. It’s so well priced: she gets to be the fashionable princess she wants to be and I don’t have to spend too much money. Though all those $7.99 items do add up and it’s always a shock when I see the total at the cash register.

YOWZA. How did we spend….?

We actually got lattes at the Starbucks near the check-out and sat in the seating area for an hour or so. I discoved that there’s great view from that side of Target of the Atlantic Yards. It’s a really interesting spot to contemplate the future of Brooklyn.

Walking back to the slope via FIfth Avenue, I was surpised by how many new shops have gone in from Flatbush to Sterling. It happened so quickly. There’s a bunch of boutiques, Lulu’s, Area (a clothing store for kids), that gorgeous Indian clothing store, Pawtisserie (bakery for dogs!?), SIP ( a new wine shop), Miriam (a middle eastern restaurant)…

The owner of Lulu’s said that her stretch of Fifth Avenue near Flatbush is fantastic for business. She said the people come there from Ft. Greene, Prospect Heights, the Heights, Cobble HIll, Smith Street. Her old location on Fifth near 3rd Street was good but very local. There were few walk-ins and not much weekday traffic. She said no one who lives above 7th Avenue ever comes to Fifth Avenue.  I wonder if she’s right about that.

When we got home, Son said that he was hanging out at the Atlantic Center, which really surprised me. WHAT WERE YOU DOING THERE? He didn’t say. I DIDN’T BRING HIM UP IN PARK SLOPE TO BE A MALL RAT!

But then again: What the hell were we doing at Target all afternoon?

This afternoon at Lulu’s, the children’s hair salon and toy store on Fifth Avenue near Flatbush, where Daughter was getting a haircut, Sister was having her bangs trimmed, and Ducky was playing with a stroller and stuffed animals, I ran into Marybeth Batcha, publisher of One Story, which is a very ambitious, small-sized literary magazine with one story in it, published in Brooklyn 18 times a year.

I am a subscriber and it’s such a treat to get my copy of  One Story every three weeks or so in the mail. Mary Beth and I  decided that next winter there’s going to be a One Story reading at Brooklyn Reading Works. So stay tuned.

Take a look at the One Story site and think about subscribing to this Brooklyn-grown venture that is garnering quite a national reputation.

Speaking of stories, my good friend Nancy Graham has a piece of short fiction in this month’s Culture Star Reader. Nancy Graham’s poems have been published in Aught, Chronogram and Poetry Superhighway. Her fiction appears in the latest issue of Prima Materia, a literary annual of Hudson Valley writing. Her chapbook, SOMNILOQUIES, is forthcoming from Pudding House Publications. She lives with her husband and two children in Kingston, New York. The story is called Warm-Chair Attrition. Here’s an excerpt:

The young woman watches the man with the newspaper and wills him to say something shocking about himself.  This is the last day before she will pack the last of her things and fly to California, and find a job with help from her sister.  Her flight leaves two days from now.  The memos she will spend the day writing relate to her work.  Other people will pull them from a file and follow the directions in them, parceling her job into a dozen bits for others in her department-that way her leaving won’t cause turmoil in the company, and they won’t have to pay anyone to do her work after she’s gone.  The company has been getting smaller in this way, and the staff’s jobs incrementally larger, for five years. At the same time, the employees have worked more slowly and less efficiently, writing their memoirs on the sly, idly fingering their tickler files, or making sculptures of binder clips.  They have left their jobs in spirit but remain at their desks in body.  There are so many companies where this is happening that the companies have coined a name for it; they call the phenomenon ‘warm chair attrition.’ Read More in Culture Star Reader

In the same issue, there  is also an interview with one of Nancy’s mentors, Lydia Davis:

Q: How should a writer develop a unique voice?

Lydia Davis:  I would say there are a few things to think about.  One is what I said earlier, about being in absolute control of the mechanics of grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, so that you can do anything you like with your language.  (Look at Beckett’s later writings to see what odd things he does, which he couldn’t have done without that mastery.)  Then observe the world and yourself with a very careful, accurate eye.  Don’t say the water is blue if it’s actually a pinkish muddy color.  Bring those accurate observations into your fiction.  Don’t sentimentalize:  be honest and accurate about your feelings and thoughts.  And be open to different ways of writing.  Don’t be too cautious.  If you can aim towards all of that, you’ll probably develop your own distinctive voice and style.

Read More in Culture Star Reader.

The New York City Public Schools adopted a new schedule today. Classes now commence at 8:40 a.m. instead of 8:30. School is out at 3:00 p.m. There will be special tutoring for children in academic need until 3:37 and a half.

Those extra ten minutes are like a godsend. We usually get to school about ten minutes late so…

It’s a gift really. Classes start at 8:40 rather than 8:30. Woo hoo. YAY. The trick is not to think about it too much. We’re just going to pretend it’s the same old schedule. Get up at the same time, make lunch, have some cereal, pack the backpacks, leave the house…

That way, we’ll be on time. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Just put the new start time out of our heads. Pretend it’s the same old schedule (it’s 8:30, really it’s 8:30, really it’s 8:30…)

Daughter, the impeccably fashionable one,  had extra time to preen. She put on an interesting combination of her new clothing from Target. The black and white spotted pants, the t-shirt that says, "YOU CAN KEEP MY BROTHER," the green camouflage jacket.

"That’s quite an outfit you’ve got on today," her brother  told her. "I like your Dalmatian print pants." he added..
"They’re not Dalmatian print pants." she replied.
"Then what are they?" he asked.
"I don’t know. STOP BOTHERING ME." she said.
"Oh I know," he said. "They’re leopard spot. You’re wearing leopard spot pants. Nice with the green camouflage."

Unfazed, she continued to brush her hair. "No one’s going to be able to see you today," Husband said, referring to her animal and camouflage prints."

Luckily, Daughter has an unflappable sense of style.

Check out a blog called The Muk Report. The guy has designed some funny Park Slope T-shirts.

How Many of These Could I Move at 7th and Union?

I think plenty.  They’re pretty funny.

My sister told me about Focusing Into Sleep, workshops for those who have sleep problems (who doesn’t these days?).

These workshops, run by Manhattan psyhotherapists, Susan Rudnick and Robin Kappy,  are for those who experience problems with falling asleep, restless waking during the night, or just want to fall asleep in a more peaceful way.

Sounds nice. Speaking of sleep problems, did I mention that I am typing this at 2:10 in the morning?

"The workshop guides people to draw on the well of wisdom that already resides within them to create better sleep patterns. Participants develop skills for moving into deeper levels of rest through visualization, self-hypnosis, and a therapeutic technique called ‘focusing.’

The workshops, which are at the 92nd Street Y and the 14th Street Y, are led by two certified focusing trainers. Here’s the info:

The 92nd Street Y
1395 Lexington Avenue
Three Thrusday Evenings: Feb 9, Feb 16, Feb 23, 2006
7 p.m. – 9 p.m.
Registration (212) 415-5500
Price: $90. for the three session workshop

The 14th Street Y
344 East 14th Street, New York, NY
Three Thursday Evenings: March 9, 16, 23, 2006
Registration: (212)780-0800
Price: $75 for the three session workshop

Consultations are also available. For information contact: Focusingintosleep@verizon.net, haikususan@aol.com or rkappy.csw@verizon.net

Continue reading FOCUSING INTO SLEEP →

A good friend of mine is now working for Project Reach Youth. She asked me to spread the word that this very worthwhile local organization is looking for volunteers.

Here’s the scoop:

Project Reach Youth (PRY) is a community-based organization committed to helping low-income youth, adults and families to learn and grow in a creative and supportive environment. They have a range of programs and rely on volunteers for academic support, particularly with teen programs. Current needs include:-

–Adults to work with our teens in our after-school programs. In Fort Greene, the STAR Program helps prepare juniors and seniors for college – tutors are always needed to help these kids prepare for their SAT’s and Regents’. The hours are after-school and Saturdays. The STAR Program also provides support during the school day at the LJR school in Park Slope.

–Adults who can help kids in the college office.

–Help with the Project Life program, aimed at helping kids ages 13 -17 to offer good life choices; these kids need homework help as well.

–Help with a Saturday program in Park Slope for immigrant adults preparing for the citizenship exam. Volunteers work one-on-one with the students to help them practice for the test and practice conversational English.

— Help with after-school programs for elementary school-aged kids

For more information, you can go to: www.pry.org. You can also send me an an e-mail (louisecrawford@gmail.com), if you’d like me to send it directly to my friend.

There could not have been a better place to hear Michael Drinkard read from the first chapter of his new novel,  "Rebels, Turn Out Your Dead," than at the Old Stone House, a revolutionary war museum in JJ Byrne Park on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope.

What started out as a Brooklyn Reading Works reading evolved into an elegant book party bash thrown by the author and his wife.

In his introduction, Michael graciously thanked Kim Maier, Executive Director of the Old Sone House, and me. He told the crowd about Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn and mentioned that the blog’s name comes from the title of Thomas Wolfe story:"Only the Dead Know Brooklyn."

"Rebel Bring Out Your Dead " is the story of a hemp farmer and his wife and son who get caught int he crossfire of the Revolutionary War. Here is the description from Amazon:

In his cannabis-infused pipe dreams, Salt imagines himself a man of
independent means, rather than a Yankee hemp farmer under the thumb of
his Tory father-in-law. Then Salt’s teenage son shoots a British
officer, and the Revolutionary War comes home, bringing both danger and
unexpected freedoms.

Forced to flee his farm and family, Salt
is taken captive on a prison ship off the shore of Brooklyn, where he
finds himself in unplanned pursuit of something that might just be
happiness. With her husband on this odyssey, Molly embarks upon her own
war of independence, from the chronic disappointments and
long-rehearsed roles of marriage. And under the unlikely wing of the
British army, son James begins to come of age along with his country.

Drinkard has crafted a work of historic fiction, whose characters are drawn with depth and a contemporary interest in their inner lives and struggles.

I’ve only heard the first chapter, but I plan to get a copy of the book and read it soon. 40 Copies of the book sold last night at the party. Some people bought more than one.

The party was quite the Park Slope event. I saw many friends there, as well as writerly types from Manhattan who I don’t know. Blogger, Ron Hogan of  Beatrice.com was there. We spoke a bit about the blogsphere and I look forward to reading his literary blog in the future. I learned from a quick look at his blog that he is the author of "The Stewardess is Flying the Plane; American Films of the 1970’s," which was selected by Amazon as one of Top Ten Editor’s Picks: Pop Culture for 2005.

Stone Park Cafe was too packed for dinner. But at Belleville, many tables were filled with the after party revellers.

The author of "The Feminine Mystique" died yesterday. This is from the New York Times:

Betty Friedan, the feminist crusader and author whose searing first book, "The Feminine Mystique," ignited the contemporary women’s movement in 1963 and as a result permanently transformed the social fabric of the United States and countries around the world, died yesterday, her 85th birthday, at her home in Washington.

Betty Friedan, a founder of the National Organization for Women, led a march in Manhattan in 1970 for the Women’s Strike for Equality.The cause was congestive heart failure, said Emily Bazelon, a family spokeswoman.

With its impassioned yet clear-eyed analysis of the issues that affected women’s lives in the decades after World War II

Here is a post from this day last year. I actually wrote it when a guy in Yugoslavia asked me to be a guest blogger. I liked it an posted it on Third Street, as well. I don’t post much on that blog anymore. But Smartmom, Hepcat, Teen Spirit, and the Oh So Fiesty One are alive and well in my weekly column in the Brooklyn Papers. Out every Friday, the paper is available all over Brooklyn (at Key Food and other supermarkets, the Ninth Street YMCA, and elsewhere in Park Slope).

Today is the anniversary of Smartmom’s parents. February 3rd. The date
is etched in her mind. She and her sister would go to the same gift
shop year after year to buy an anniversary gift for them. West Town
House smelled of bath soap and sachet. It was just a block and a half
from the Riverside Drive apartment. They’d browse for an hour or more.
And with only four dollars, they’d find something to buy: a stone paper
weight or a letter opener, which the owner would gift wrap in green
paper and a black ribbon bow.

Smartom’s parents aren’t married
anymore. They’ve been separated since 1976. But February 3rd still
stops her short. And while they’ve been separated for longer than they
were together, February 3rd means only one thing: the beginning of
something that later came to an end.

Manhattan Granny showed
OSFO her wedding album a few weeks ago. A large, white, leather-bound
book, the black and white photographs present Smartmom’s parents on
their ceremonial day. In a simple and elegant, calf-length gown, Groovy
Grandma looks like Audrey Hepburn; her hair is close-cropped like
Hepburn’s too.

Groovy Grandpa, with no trace of the beard that
would later define him, looks pleased with himself and his bride. Their
parents gather around them

A friend in Beverley Square West is having a stoop sale on Saturday. She sold the house a few months ago and has been living in Vermont for the last few years; one of the people who actually left Brooklyn for greener pastures. She has interesting stuff and if you're in the market for some furnture, it might be worth it to check out the sale and take a look at this interesting and historic neighborhood on the other side of Prospect Park.

One antique wooden glass cabinet with three shelves, petite scale,  but
pretty nice delicate detail."

House Sale: 242 Marlborough Road. Brooklyn, NY

.

It’d Take a Guy a Lifetime…from OTBKB JANUARY 31, 2005:

Curious about the name of this new blog. Here’s an excerpt from
Thomas Woolfe’s masterful short story called: "Only the Dead Know
Brooklyn" written in thick Brooklynese:

Dere’s no guy livin’ dat knows Brooklyn t’roo an t’roo, because it’d
take a guy a lifetime just to find his way aroun’ duh goddam town.

"So like I say, I’m waitin’ for my train t’ come when I sees dis big
guy standin’ deh — dis is the foist I eveh see of him. Well, he’s
lookin’ wild, y’know, an’ I can see dat he’s had plenty, but still he’s
holdin’ it; he talks good an’ is walkin’ straight enough. So den, dis
big guy steps up to a little guy dat’s standin’ deh, an’ says, ‘How
d’yuh get t’ Eighteent’ Avenoo an Sixty-sevent’ Street?’ he says…"

and

"Jesus! What a nut he was! I wondeh what evah happened to ‘m,
anyway. I wondeh if someone knocked him on duh head, or if he’s till
wanderin’ aroun’ in duh subway in duh middle of duh night with his
little map! Duh poor guy. Say, I’ve got to laugh, at dat, when I t’ink
about him! Maybe he’s found out by now dat he’ll never live long
enought to know duh whole of Brooklyn. It’d take a guy a lifetime to
Brooklyn t’roo an’ t’roo. An even den, yuh wouldn’t know it all."

        Pioneering video artist Nam June Paik passed away yesterday. This from Boing Boing.

"The future is now." –N.J.P. (1932-2006)

Link


      

A Brooklyn Life has this story about the new Whole Foods at Third Avenue and 3rd Street.

Brooklyn Papers
is reporting that the construction of Whole Foods at 3rd Avenue and 3rd
Street in Gowanus/Park Slope has been delayed–again–by the slow
removal of toxic gasoline storage tanks. Looks like they won’t be outta
there until March. The paper also delves into a bit of the site’s
glorious industrial history:

Going back to the 19th century, the land had hosted a lake, a coal yard,
an oil-processing company and a radiator manufacturer. Oh, and it was
also a junkyard at one point. Since excavation began in the fall, a lake
of green water has overtaken the site, a consequence of digging below the water
table…

READ MORE AT A BROOKLYN LIFE

Cool and Unusual played Southpaw on Sunday, the Slope’s groovy indie rock club
on Fifth Avenue. It was a first for all the teen bands that played. A real rock club. Woo. A great sound system. Woo hoo. A big place with
room to dance. Woo hoo hoo.

No one danced. The kids hung out near the stage and moved along to the music, screamed, yelled, hooted, and cheered after songs.

Cool and Unusual played one of their best sets ever. Their patter was pretty great: "Chinese New Year’s resolution: That we won’t suck." Sadly, they are
taking a one month hiatus. Luckily February is a short month. As
the bass player’s mother, I am sorry that they won’t be playing for a
few weeks because the improvement has been so consistent, and they are
getting so tight, so good. But they have their reasons. I for one will miss hearing their original songs like "Snow Song," "Retrospect," "2L,"Cheerful Infinity," "The Test," as well as their Arcade Fire medley.

But nobody listens to mom. They will, hopefully, be back in the swing of things in March.

Mod Rocket, an all-girls punk band from Manhattan was incredible, too. It’s hard to believe they are just 15-years-olds. The lead singer can really sing and all the others are amazing musician,  too. I just found their list of their influences on their web site:

Bowie, The Stooges, Velvet Underground, MC5, Joy Division, Nine Inch Nails, Ramones, T Rex, Sonic Youth, Siouxsie, Jesus and Mary Chain, Pigface, Suicide, Big Black, Skinny Puppy, Bjork, Nirvana, Cream, New York Dolls, Patti Smith, Lenny Kaye, Radiohead, My Bloody Valentine, Smashing Pumpkins, The Jam, The Clash, Black Sabbath, The Cure, Television, The Smiths, Legendary Pink Dots, The Swans, Teenage Jesus And The Jerks, Lydia Lunch, The Who, The Damned,Gang Of Four, Black Flag, Minor Threat, Fugazi, Depeche Mode, Bob Dylan, Thin Lizzy, PJ Harvey, The Cars, White Stripes, Talking Heads, New Order, Adam Ant, KMFDM, Bauhaus, Sisters Of Mercy, Alien Sex Fiend, Rozz Williams, Christian Death, Alice Cooper, The Byrds, The Doors, Big Star, Janes Addiction, Butthole Surfers, Stones, Mudhoney, Melvins, Manson, Interpol, Velvet Acid Christ, Throbbing Gristle, Slint, Slayer, The Cramps, The Beatles, Misfits, Neil Young, Zeppelin, Sleater Kinney, Pavement, Malkmus, Iggy Pop, Echo And The Bunnymen, Bikini Kill, Jefferson Airplane, Kraftwerk, Fantomas, Tomhawk, Lords Of The New Church, AC/DC, KISS, Pink Floyd, Killing Joke, Tool, A Perfect Circle, EinstÃ

Monday morning and the mystery of whether that is Mary on the flap of Paul Auster’s new book has finally been solved. It’s her, it’s her, it’s her. I can tell this is going to be a great week. Here’s the missive from Mary.

I finally bought "Brooklyn Follies."  It ISN’T me holding the beach ball on the front cover because, as Austin Powers would say, "That’s a MAN, baby." (In addition to be much photographed throughout my life, I have been mistaken several times for a man in real life. Seriously. Despite lipstick.)

However, if you look at the back flap, (near the author’s portrait) there is a woman in a black jacket and light jeans. And I am 99 percent certain it’s me.

I bought the book at Seventh Avenue Books and told the owner as he rang it up that I thought I was on the flap. He looked and agreed it might be me. He then asked for $25.07. I gave him $26.00 and said I didn’t have any change. He said, "Well, seeing as I’m running out of change and you are a celebrity, I won’t charge you the seven cents."

So, being on the Auster back flap is paying off all ready. If I carry the book around with me, will I get free drinks at local establishments? Perhaps Second Street Cafe will give me a half-priced coffee.

At home, I took out a magnifying glass. Under magnification, I still think it is me. And my husband and four-year-old think so too. My 2-year-old also has declared, "That’s Mama." Unfortunately she was pointing to the photo of Paul Auster. "That’s a man, baby!"

I need to get a copy of Paul Auster’s "Brooklyn Follies" to my friend Mary because I think she is pictured on the cover. I saw her yesterday at Maggie Moo’s and asked her if it’s her on the cover. She didn’t know a thing about it. I told her that I’d posted about it a few weeks back.

I loved that you stopped in at Maggie Moo’s to tell me about the Brooklyn Follies cover. The kids were running in too many circles from their ice cream high for me to focus on what you were saying. Now that I’ve read your post, I’m blushing. Thanks for calling me "very nice" (in the post).

Still, Mary isn’t sure whether it’s her picture on the cover. Oddly and coincidentally, she’d had her picture taken for Time Out Magazine on the same Second Street corner and she thought that was what I was talking about. Who knew about her busy modeling career.

As far as the photo on the Auster cover goes–it wasn’t the one I thought it was. The one I told you about that was taken on the 2nd street corner was taken of me and my husband and supposedly appeared in Time Out–although I didn’t follow the issues closely enough to see it. And I wasn’t carrying a beach ball as "I" am on the Auster cover-but my husband was carrying a huge bag of brickettes.  I haven’t been able to run out to the bookstore to scrutinize the Auster cover tonight. Looking at a close up view on Amazon has been inconclusive. I have to say, it does appear to be me!

I am also pretty sure that it’s Mary. I assumed she knew about it and had signed a release or something. The fact that she was unaware of the picture being taken adds another element to the story. I thought it was particularly interesting because Mary is a writer (she and I met in Tim Tomlinson’s fiction writing course at the Writer’s Voice). Since she moved to Park Slope a few years back, we’ve had regular chitchats about writing, children, work, and other Park Slope-ish matters.

I’ve always wanted to write an essay about the strange places your image could appear without your knowledge (think of those group photos taken in restaurants–with your table in the background.) Once, when I was dining at Ellen’s Stardust with a friend, the waiter (whom I had never seen before) said "What will it be, Stacey and Mary?" After we completely freaked that he knew our names, he said he recognized us from a photo he saw in Chicago when he was staying with a friend of his–who was also a close friend of ours–who mentioned (I guess several times–since he remembered them) our names.

The oft-photographed Mary is going to let me know soon if it’s her on the cover. But even if it’s not, she’s still a big deal in my book. In addition to the care and feeding of two kids, she writes daily at the Park Slope Writer’s Space and has a story coming out later this year in a webzine.

I’ll let you know what I think after I see the real cover! And, thanks for asking, my story is coming out in a 2006 issue of Paper Street. (A small lit mag based in Pittsburgh).

I am quite smitten with the just-out CD from Cat Power, "The Greatest." Cat Power is the performing name of the critically raved about Chan Marshall. I was expecting a more raucous album — it’s called Cat Power, afterall.  Instead, it’s an ambient, moody, slow-speed and eclectic voice-piano-strings soundscape with songs that convey the poetic wisdom of a love-worn life.

Marshall has a endearing world-weariness that calls to mind a low-energy Lucinda Williams with a little Memphis R&B and shoo bop thrown in for good measure.

Check it out. Sound Track and Music Matters has it in stock.

This appeared last January 25th on the old OTBKB:

There wasn’t even a word for depression in Sri Lanka
until a few years ago. Not that they didn’t need it. Doctors there say
that people express their unhappiness by having pain, back aches, or
difficulty sleeping. And by commiting suicide. Apparently, Sri Lanka
has one of the hightest suicide rates in the world.

In New York there must be 40 words for depression. If not more. 

Sri
Lanka, with a population of 20 milliion people, has only about 30
psychiatrists. Very few of them speak the language of the Meulaboh
region, which was badly hit. Needless to say, therapy is not a common
activity in that part of the world. Unlike New York City, the Sri
Lankans are not held together by the loving thread of trained
therapists. Not to mention Zoloft.

There must be thousands of therapists in Brooklyn alone. 

No,
a stop at the shrink’s office is not a weekly occurrence in Sri Lanka.
How spoiled we are in New York City where the examination of one’s
navel is considered a necessity not a luxury. And yet, Smartmom
believes that navel examination truly is a form of preventive health
care. In so many ways, New Yorkers benefit from their weekly
exploration of self. Without it, Lord help us: New York would be a
whole lot more neurotic and/or psychotic than it already is.

Just imagine New York without therapy.   

But
in other parts of the world, there’s just too much else to do — like
survival — to have time for such things. Religious institutions
probably do their part. Buddhist meditation is just one example of a
spiritual practice that is, in its way, deeply psychological in nature.

The people of Sri Lanka are a stoic people with a strong belief
in god’s will, and a different (maybe better) relationship to death.
Even in a crisis of this magnitude, they carry on. Call it denial, call
it pragmatism, they are grieving quietly and privately while rebuilding
their lives. What other option do they have?

And yet, grief and
trauma can wreak havoc on people’s lives. Experts have observed that "
suicide rates drop in times of crisis but then bounce back up again –
to higher levels than they were originally," writes Denise Grady in the
New York Times.

Mental health experts the world have made
offers of help. But the Sri Lankian government is asking them to stand
back and respect the nature of the Sri Lankan culture. They believe
that the deep religious beliefs of the Sri Lankans and their strong
sense of community and family will help them through this tragedy. And,
in most cases, they are probably right.

One Sri Lankan
official quoted in the Times said that "too many irrelvant, inept,
strange ideas from other countries could do disservice to tsunami
victims." He was especially adamant that de-briefing, a technique where
disaster victims are encouraged to talk about traumatic experiences
after a disaster, would be especially harmful.

Smartmom is
familiar with this argument. She has been working with the FDNY since
December 2001 on a newsletter for the families of those who lost loved
ones on September 11th. After the WTC disaster, firefighters were
debriefed and urged to talk about the tragedy in great detail —
apparently it helped them a lot. They were also encouraged to partake
of the free counseling services available 24 hours a day at the
Counseling Service Unit.

After 9/11, many health care
professional from around the world offered their services to the FDNY.
Fairly quickly, the FDNY realized that mental health professionals
without the proper understanding of the fire department culture could
do more harm than good. Over time, the FDNY expanded its counseling
staff in order to provide appropriate care for those who were suffering
from various degrees of post-traumatic-stress and grief.

Firefighters
are also a stoic lot with a strong sense of family and religious ties.
For them, therapy helped them with the on-going grief and stress. At
first it was hard to convince those who are used to helping others that
they needed help. But many of them came around because they were
suffering so much. And their recovery was fairly rapid once they went
in for counseling. There’s no telling how much alcoholism, drug
addiction, spousal and child abuse, and suicide were avoided because of
this.

So, Smartmom wonders how the Sri Lankans will fare
emotionally. What of the parentless children, the parents who lost
their little loved ones, those who saw whole communities die — how
will they get through this? Is it true that this community will be able
to escape "post traumatic-stress" simply because of their cultural
background?

There is no one-size fits all solution to recovery
from tragedy. A person’s mental health prior to the event, resilience
and resourcefulness must all be taken into account. People are very
unique in the ways that they heal; in how they like to take care of
themselves.

Smartmom is grateful for her weekly trips to her
therapist, her shaman, the man who helps her "see." Her problems are
fairly minor compared to those of people in other parts of the world.
But still, she believes in the value of self-examination and is
thankful that she has the option.

Everyone needs help from time to time.   

I ran into A at the Chip Shop recently. She is doing very well. The new house is still being renovated. But they have more space than they ever imagined. A lovely mother and her two teenage children have moved into A’s apartment.

A, Smartmom’s neighbor of nearly twelve years, is moving out today. She is
finally moving into the brownstone she bought and renovated on Ninth
Street. The movers came last week and yesterday she had her final
apartment sale. Strangers were coming in the building all day to pick
through baby clothes, toys, children’s book and kitchen utensils.

Smartmom
is sad to see A go although they never really connected as friends.
They were, however, good neighbors. Whenever they saw each other they’d
say hello, inquire about one another’s children and ask how life was
going. On occasion they helped each other out. A would ask for
Smartmom’s help in small ways: Can you let the exterminator in? Can
Hepcat fix my computer? Do you mind lending us a copy of "The Great
Gatsby," my son has an English paper due?

Smartmom always kept a copy of A’s key just in case. That sort of thing.

Hepcat
once asked A, who is a lawyer, for legal advice. It was years ago
when he was signing an intellectual property clause on an employment
contract. She was extremely helpful and forthcoming with information
and names of specialists in that field.

When A’s great aunt
died, Smartmom invited her in for a cup of tea. She was,
understandably, feeling out of sorts and said it was strange to be home
alone with such sad news. A told Smartmom all about her Aunt, who was
an inspiring and loving figure in her life. Smartmom checked in a few
times to see how she was doing. She seemd to appreciate that.

But,
for the most part, Smartmom kept a respectful distance. You know that
old adage: Fences make good neighbors. It applies to emotional fences
too. Maybe because of this, unkind words never passed between them. A did once rightfully complain about some boxes that Hepcat left in the
hallway. But other than that, she never once complained about noise or
anything else. And that’s exceptional for nearly 12 years of living
side by side.

Smartmom observed A’s life from a neighborly
distance. A divorcee, she dated various men until she met the wonderful
one who smokes a cigar, who is now her partner. Her son, who was only 6
or 7 when Smartmom moved in, is now a handsome, buff, and friendly high
school junior.

For years, Smartmom has seen his dad drop him
off at the building after their mid-week afternoon and evening
together. Smartmom has discerned tension between A and her ex on
these drop-offs. Smartmom always smiled supportively and then looked
the other way.

Smartmom knew that A and her new partner were
hunting for houses for over two years. A asked Smartmom to be
discreet around the landlord. When they found the house they are moving
into it was only supposed to take a few months to renovate. It took
much longer and A kept Smartmom posted on the construction snafus.

Now
this family of three is ready to move into their new home. Smartmom
doesn’t quite know how to acknowledge the move. A glass of champange, a
modest gift, a card wishing her every good wish? It seems important
somehow to honor this transition, this move from one place to another,
this loss.

It’s not enough just to wave goodbye.

Last February, a group of people rented out the Brooklyn Lyceum and had a dance. It was a great idea and I wish someone would do that again. Anyone interested?

Last night Smartmom and Hepcat partied like it was 1986 and what a
night it was. They could have been in Area, the Tunnel or the
Palladium, but it was the Brooklyn Lyceum, the classical style public
bath that’s been transformed into a theater and performance space on
Fourth Avenue.

But really, they were years away from those
fabled night spots of the mid to late 1980’s and their younger selves.
In the here and now, the room was filled with middle-aged Park Slopers
who looked pretty darn good in their Saturday night best dancing to an
incredible mix of funk, rap, hip hop, and soul. Tom Tom Club really got
the room moving as did Madonna and other old favorites. But there were
newer sounds by artists they’d never heard of too, and they sounded
just as good.

Yet, it wasn’t a nostalgic night for pretending
to be young or revisiting the past. No, it was a bunch of people acting
their age — boldly and happily expressing themselves in free form
dance; shaking their hips to the rhythms of the night. There were
couples, singles, friends, and strangers joyfully dancing together.
People were sweating, stripping off layers of clothing; just content to
be out on a cold February night away from children and the daily
details.

When the clock struck midnight, there was a
Cinderella moment in the room. Many had to get home to babysitters and
sleeping children. Smartmom and Hepcat said their good byes and got
their coats from the coat check. Walking up President Street toward
Fifth Avenue and home, they could still hear the propulsive bass
leaking out of the Lyceum’s windows. The music was beckoning them to
the dance floor for one more dance before they turned into pumpkins
again.

WHAT is Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn, you may ask.  And WHY am I doing this?

ANSWER: Not sure just yet.

It remains to be seen what this needs and wants to be. In the
meantime, I will continue to be the all-eyes, all-ears,
all-around-the-Slope interested busybody; a social anthropologist, if
you will.

Observing, being alert to the details, passing on important
information, I want to give  you a wiff of the neighborhood zeitgeist,
the mood that’s in the air.

Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn will also include vital links to
information about: schools, services, parking, retail, food, books,
movies, local artisans, writers, artists, activists, friends and
neighbors.

Down the line there will be advertising, school,
community, and cultural events in the neighborhood. Don’t be surprised
if you see shops and services advertised, as well: I need to pay the
rent (email me for advertising information).

Keep reading as things evolve. And please send your observations and YOUR notes about what makes the Slope tick.

I’d LOVE to hear from you.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

–I started OTBKB almost one year ago
–I was inspired by Debbie Galant, the Barista of Bloomfield Avenue, a Montclair/Glen Ridge,  New Jersey blog.
–I met her at a Bat Mitzvah.
–I thought what she was doing was cool. It made me think: I wanna do that, too. For Park Slope.
–She told me to go with Type Pad and was very generous with information.
–My friend Toby Fox designed the site and the logo. She came up with the funny icons.
–My husband helped with the many technicalities.
—My husband started No Words_Daily Pix in the first week of OTBKB
–It’s been a great way for people to see his photographic work
–I wanted lots of people to read OTBKB
–I NEVER imagined how many people would read OTBKB
–Laura Eveleth at the Barista of Bloomfield Avenue encouraged me to get advertisers. She told me how to do that.
–I got advertisers. I want more.
–People know all about me now.
–There are still a lot of things people don’t know.
–I think OTBKB has been a good thing.
–Actually I know OTBKB has been a good thing for a lot of reasons.
–I’m not sure what to do next,
–The one year mark seems a good time to reflect, to regroup, to rethink
–I feel good about this
–It’s been nice to "meet" all the other bloggers out there.
–Feels like we’re a community: Come to the First Brooklyn Blog Festival on June 22nd at the Old Stone House
–Thanks to all the readers of OTBKB.
–Thanks for reading and responding.

The original Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn (OTBKB) began on September 18, 2004 on Blogspot. But it was different then. There was no No Words_Daily Pix, no Scoop Du Jour, and no Postcard from the Slope.

The old OTBKB, which is sporadically updated, is now called Third Street . It features the adventures of Smartmom, Hepcat Daddy-O, Teen Spirit and the Oh So Fiesty One, as well as other local characters. Smartmom now has her very own column in The Brooklyn Papers.

The new OTBKB started on January 31, 2005 (see first post of that below). Here’s the September 18th post of the old OTBKB.

This morning, Smartmom took care of some recent kitchen problems. The
old man who fixes stoves came by to fix the oven which hasn’t been
working in weeks. Later, the cheerful exterminator stopped by. Smartmom
told him about the wheat moth problem but he said there’s nothing he
can do about it — he specializes in roaches and mice. "You got to go
to the sauce," he said. Smartmom thought he meant that there was some
sauce that is especially delicious to wheat moths. Actually, he was
saying THE SOURCE in thick Brooklynese and pointed to a box of rice,
and other boxes of grains. "If you see nests in there, they gotta go in
the garbage," he said. Note: Smartmom had already thrown out ALL open
boxes of grain and had emptied and scrubbed the cabinet. She’s also
using Pantry Pest traps bought at the PARK SLOPE FOOD COOP.

   Just saw this on the Brooklyn Public Library web site:

5th Annual My Brooklyn Photo + Essay Contest

Brooklynites

A year ago, a 10-year-old Markita Nicole Weaver, was crushed to death in Red Hook:

What started as a makeshift memorial on a corner near Public School 15
where Markita Nicole Weaver last dove into a snow bank to make angels
still stands a year after the 10-year-old was dragged and crushed to
death.

About 25 stuffed animals, mostly Teddy bears, are tied to the iron
fence surrounding the elementary school, at the intersection of Wolcott
and Richards streets. A Tigger doll, faded to a peachy orange,
straddles one of the bars, while a white bear hangs in a clear plastic
bag, gripping a red heart that proclaims "I love you." Deflated
balloons dangle limply, and a crate of candles and plastic flowers sits
on the sidewalk by the fence. Among the toys, a laminated note reads,
"I just wanted to thank you for the things you did for my daughter,
Markita. From her mother." READ MORE AT B61 PRODUCTIONS