suzanneconnolly.net

Well.  What can I say?  I’m still reeling from the afterglow.  I’ve been to many great concerts in my day.. Dylan at Vicar Street (audience: 900) is up there, Gil Scott-Heron in Vicar Street, Radiohead in the Point and Marley Park, but nothing, nothing compares to Stevie Wonder at Madison Square Garden last night.  Nothing comes close.

The difference between them was that the others were gigs.. your hero gets on stage, does their thing and leaves.  Stevie came on stage (escorted by his daughter) and talked to the crowd first for a few minutes, gave a moment’s silence for the victims of 9/11 (he hasn’t toured in 10 years – getting to this gig was a true stroke of luck), spoke about the loss of his mother, Lula Mae Hardaway, as being the saddest day of his life (cue: big pic of her on the screens) and thanked the (cheering) crowd for his success because it meant she had a better life.  He said when she died he went in on himself; he told his manager he didn’t want to work for a while, do anything, go anywhere, not to call him.  Then his mother came to him in a dream and said, (and he impersonated her voice) “Git out there boy and do what you do.”  And laughingly he said this tour was for her.  Then he opened with ‘Love’s In Need of Love Today’. 

Stevie emanates Love.  That’s it.  His religion is Love (as the lyrics of ‘As’ will testify).  He radiates it, he is it, he gives it, he LOVES and he loves performing and he loves music and he loved us last night.. you could feel it.  And he told us he loved us; ‘I love you so much New York city’.  And we believed him.  The gig was like an expression of pure love, from the off.  On the way in, the anticipation was just electric.  I was so excited I could barely breathe.  Strangers were laughing with each other as they passed each other on the way to their seats.. During the gig the atmosphere was like that kind of trembling awe.  That kind of moment that endured.

It was more than a concert, it was a cross between Stevie at his very, very best and a powerful Gospel Mass.  That kind of ‘tears rolling down your cheeks in pure exaltation and joy’ experience.  (If you’ve never been to a Gospel Mass before, next time you’re in NY, you should go to Harlem to one, for the sheer emotion alone. Incredible.)  He would talk to the crowd and we’d cheer back.  17,000 of us.  There were two women behind us, shouting out like they were in the congregation at a Gospel Mass, in agreement with the preacher; ‘Stevie – I know that’s true’, hands in the air..

Backed up by three keyboardists, two percussionists, three backup singers, a drummer, two guitarists and a driving, band-leading bass, he played a lot from Songs in the Key of Life and Innervisions.. ‘If its Magic’, ‘Too High’, ‘Visions’… when you hear him live you get all the perfection of his music, live, but also he’s ‘in the moment’ the whole time, he’s ‘in the zone’ and giving it socks.. running up the scale firing notes off  the top.. but he’s also very, very sexual about his rhythms, his ad libbing ..  at one point he had the women of the audience singing  ‘oo! oo! aa! aa!..Ribbon in the Sky’ over and over (off Musiquerium), after which the men sang ‘oouughhh..Ribbon in the Sky’ and after a bit of practice he got us to sing it together and the arrangement was beautiful, and powerfully sexual, as you might imagine.. the man’s a gifted genius.  He knows his music and plays it like he loves it and like he loves playing it.  “I feel like this is the beginning..though I’ve loved you for a million years”.. He laughed and smiled through the whole gig.. his daughter, Aisha Morris, joining him for a couple of songs, doing backing singing on others.  The same daughter who giggles at bath-time in ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ on Songs in the Key of Life.

His humour shone through the whole gig; he played with us, played with the music, had a synth voice-distorter (a voice box) in his mouth at one point, like a tube that made his voice sound like a synthesizer, and was singing ‘halloooooo to you new york..’ like Tupac did in ‘California, knows how to party..’, giving you shudders up your spine.. and in the same voice; Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’…’We Are Family’ .. ‘Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now’, and Parliament’s ‘We want the funk’ chant, Marvin Gaye’s ‘What’s Goin On?’ … he played kick back with the bassist, doo-wop-style.. a comical but impressive harmonica-solo showdown with Frederic Yonnet, one of his musicians.. and he played ‘Signed, Sealed, Delivered’ in a country and western voice, and urged us to tell somebody, to tell somebody, to tell somebody else to do a country cover of that song, that he felt it still had power in it.  He told us the story of meeting a girl once at one of his gigs and he chatted her up, and invited her back to his dressing room, and he impersonated this little girl’s voice, cracked and high-pitched, ‘em, ok.  i just have to bring my mamma’ and how he sat there, with this little girl and her mother, and was all, ‘well, I suppose you’ll be wanting some pop?’ and so they had a can of pop and then his manager comes in and says, ‘Stevie, you gotta ask your friends to leave now’ and Stevie was like, ‘ohh man, I’m here with Cherie and her mamma and we’re having such a good time’ and his manager says, ‘no Stevie, you gotta go to bed, you gotta be in bed at 11 o’clock’, and so they leave and he sat down and wrote My Cherie Amour.  It’s hard to believe that he’s done so much in his life.. he’s going 40 years and still his songs have resonance and power; they’re not old.  And neither is he.  He looks fantastic.

And he was political too.  Ad-libbing in ‘Visions’, he sang, “I can’t believe it.  Here we are in 2007, and we’re still practicing the same bad habits that we had centuries ago.  We love the God that we serve, whether we are Christian, Muslim, Jewish or whatever we might be, and we still ask our God to give us the right to kill in his name,” he was shouting at the top of his range. “It’s unacceptable. I can’t believe it.  It’s not right.  I can’t believe that we have some silly government in power.. it’s unacceptable.  It’s not right.  We need to come together as human beings of the world.. collectively raise our voices of power and say *Stop it*.  *Stop it*.”  And later: “Hate is unacceptable.  If you can’t do nothing but hate, why don’t you go on and die and go to hell?”  Followed by ‘Living for the City’ and ‘Master Blaster’, in which he ad libbed the chant “God is good”. 

He played ‘Overjoyed’, ‘How Will I Know’, ‘Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing’, ‘Golden Lady’, ‘Higher Ground’..in that massive room shaped like the interior of a rugby ball, with perfect acoustics making it intimate and small.. with the passion of Tchaikovsky,  the passion of ballet, the breath-taking capacity of opera.. ‘I’m a man of many wishes, I hope my premonition misses, but what I really feel, my eyes won’t let me hide, cos they always start to cry.. cos this time could mean goodbye, goodbye….’  It gave you goosebumps on your skin and rushes of pure emotion.

And then in another tribute to his mother’s memory he invited one of her two favourite singers, Tony Bennett, on stage to join him for a stunning rendition of ‘For Once In My Life’, on which they alternated versus.  What a duet.  They got a standing ovation.  Then ‘Boogie On Reggae Woman’, ‘Sir Duke’, followed with ‘I Wish’, as it does on the album… ‘Music of My Mind’.  And then the diminutive, exalted Prince walked on stage and did a funked up version of ‘Superstition’; Stevie on his clavinet keyboard, Prince belting out the classic womp-womp Stevie anthem and then chicken-scratch rhythm guitar on a borrowed Stratocaster.  It couldn’t get any better.

And then he played As.

As he was doing one night only in NY, you knew it was going to be special, but I had no idea.

Boogie on Stevie!

And finally, it’s all about the people.

You can wax lyrical about the buildings, the eateries, the nightlife, the neighbourhoods, the quirky garden furniture, the weather (it has snowed all week) and the vibes, but when it comes down to it, New York is all about the people.  Take this guy for instance..  Eddie Jones.
Never met the guy in my life, have no intention of ever doing so.. but still he sees fit to send me this email:

Hi Suzanne

How are you ? I am following up on your inquiry for the room avail a little while ago. Unfortunatley I decided against renewing the lease for the 2bedroom apt I had for rent and ended up getting a studio for myself. However after reading your email, I found you cool and easy going and someone I would love to get to know. I was intruiged, so wanted to write you back.

Just to introduce myself and let you know some more about me I am 27, easy going, laid back, but outgoing at the same time Physically I am about 5’11,165lbs, light skin, dark brown eyes, dark full hair and of Latin and east Indian mix mom from brasil and dad north india (cute and handsome I am told ).I was born and raised in Long Island, NY but moved here to manhattan about 9 years ago. I work for a financial firm in Manhattan as Vice President of strategy and product development Love my job, and I have worked hard to be where I am today.

I like all kinds of music, to dance, and just go out and have fun I like to go to dinner, travel to nice places, play sports and just walk around the city.Have a passion for languages and learniing about various cultures I also can speak multiple languages ( 7 in all ) I am currently unattached looking for someone nice, who enjoys life, is able to carry a conversation, has goals, and is not into any games with a companion I would like someone to share good times with, to trust and just have fun together If this is something that intrests you please email me back with more on you your hobbies/ interests . I apologize if I offended you in anyway by writing back in this manner.

Hope to talk to you soon !

Eddie

And then there was this guy I met yesterday to see his apartment (I’m looking for a room to rent) and we met in Starbucks (??) and after a chat, he produced pictures of his meticulously clean apartment (white floors, etc.) and I realised his fidgeting/not wanting to meet me AT his place/that he wouldn’t want me to bring any people home for the first month until he ‘got to know’ me, was because he was OCD and I asked him straight out if he was.  He said yes, but that it’s not a disorder. (!!!)  And then I went to see another apartment and met the most amazing man, from Ethiopia, lived in NY all his life, musician, writer, Buddhist, warm person, amazing apartment.. the kind of person you’d like to know even if you don’t get to share his apartment.   After the viewing, I went to the local sake bar across the street and met the chef, from south America I think it was, who could place my accent.  And in the bar on the corner (that resembled actually sitting inside a Christmas tree), I made friends with a fascinating
Palestinian from Jordan.  Amazing, the mix.

Oh, and then there’s Keith.  He looks like a lovely guy.. but strange.

$100 Great offer for open minded woman (East Village)
Reply to: hous-497106125@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-03, 8:46AM EST

Many of you who read this ad are going to find it very offensive.  Please understand that while this offer might not work for you, there are people out there in this world that have different levels of comfort with certain ideas that might be offensive to the majority of the population.

I got this idea from an article in Time Out New York that I read a while ago. I live in a 2 bedroom apartment that I inherited and now own. I live alone in the East Village, and have an empty bedroom and a lot of space. I am offering the empty room w/private bathroom for only $100 a month. Here is the catch…of course there is a catch. I’m a white late 20′s guy that works in finance. I work A LOT and therefore my social life has become nonexistent. So, I want to add a little bit of excitement to my life. I would like to rent the room to a woman between the age of 18-27.

You should be a free spirited, liberal minded person who is very open minded. I would like you to be a slim attractive girl who is OK with occasionally walking around or hanging out in her underwear
<—yes…that would be the slightly crazy part.

I would never ask you to strip or do anything at all. You must be someone who occasionally walks around like that and is ok with me being around when you do. I know this is a strange arrangement, but
like I said earlier, I am trying to add some excitement to my life:) I am not looking for anything to develop into a relationship, or to have you start acting like a girlfriend. If you are interested, send me an
email so I can discuss it further with you. There is no sexual contact or anything involved. I WOULD NEED THE ARRANGEMENT TO BE 100% CONFIDENTIAL. I know that it makes no sense to put my pic on here if I
want it to be confidential, but I figured it was a necessary risk to take if I wanted solid responses. If you are interested please send me your pic. It does not have to be a provocative pic. But a body pic
would help.

The apartment is huge-near St Marks. The kitchen is big…very bright living area. The room for rent is very big too AND HAS ITS OWN BATHROOM. PLEASE do NOT respond by saying “WHY WOULD A GUY AS GOOD LOOKING AS YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS”. We all have our reasons…..Thanks

-Keith

A few days later his ad was taken down off craigslist and I thought, ‘poor guy.. someone must’ve emailed him about his friends pulling their college boy prank and he must’ve been mortified..’ and a few
days later, his ad appeared again, this time with a pic of him in the nude.  Then saw this on CL a few days later:

$100 SCAM!!!!!!!! –> [Re: $100 Great offer for open minded woman]!!
(East Village)
Reply to: hous-498774187@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-04, 7:23PM EST

This post is a scam!!! I saw the same add a month ago – exact same add with same name “kevin” and a different picture!! This guy is just trying to collect provocative pictures of women!!! DONT RESPOND TO
IT!!!!
   *  it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 498774187
Welcome to New York.

And then there are the seriously deranged/rapist nutbags and the crazies who put themselves forward to engage in dangerously risky behaviour:  (by the way, $715 is too cheap for a room in the East Village):

$715 Female Roommate Wanted – Your own bedroom in 2 1/2 Bedroom
apartment (East Village)
Reply to: hous-501409715@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-07, 1:30AM EST

Furnished bedroom available in spacious 2 1/2 bedroom apartment. Doorman, high floor, city and sunset views, sunny, etc. Washer, dryer and dishwasher in the apartment. The apartment has good heat, is quiet for sleeping, has good air-conditioning, high speed internet and a spare computer for the roommate’s use. It’s an elevator building and there is a health club in the building. The room is about 200 sq. ft., has a double bed, dresser, desk, walk in closet and a window with a nice view. I’m looking for a female roommate who will occasionally not wear clothes when I ask in exchange for free rent. No sex whatsoever required. Otherwise the rent is $715/month, everything included.

Bleecker St. at Broadway   google map   yahoo map

Crazy psycho people.

Murderers, too:

proven novel or screen writer wanted
Reply to: gigs-501622705@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-07, 10:24AM EST

Want co-writer for ‘autobiographical’ serial murder novel. Must be prolific and ready to go. Must be a proven writer. May work in New York – co-writer in Philadelphia.

Nice.  A serial murder wants to write about their rampages and would like to employ my help in putting pen to paper.  The money might be good, but it comes with the risk that he might have more creative
pursuits in mind than just writing.

You gotta love New York.

Anyway, I promised I’d make these shorter than I had previously, so I’ll sign off.  My news is that I got a new place to stay in the East Village, move in next week, I got a job teaching civil liberties from the north of Ireland to kids aged 14 to 18 in Harlem (part-time) and I got research work, finding out about demographics of young women involved in the ‘social justice movement’ here in the US, starting
this afternoon.  Once I get settled into my new place, I’ll be able to focus properly on work, writing and enjoying the East Village.
(http://getlocalguide.ning.com/)

Guests welcome!

If I don’t get to talk to you before the Big Event on Dec 25, enjoy and seasons greetings, etc.

Much love,
Suzanne
and fluffy Mr P
x

well, hello.

i’ll keep this one short, cos i’m feeling the pressure you’re under having to wade through these.. it can’t be easy.  but i figured if i wrote little and often, that might assist with the digestion process.  either way, don’t feel obliged.

ok.  since i last wrote, the social life took a serious upturn and i’ve come to experience what it is that people the world over come here for.  this is like having died and gone to heaven.  whatever you’re into.. be it music, arts, politics, conversation, characters, architecture, nightlife, culture, comedy, style, convenience.. you get it here in spades.  dermot o’reilly, smiley dave o’reily’s brother, told me last week that you ‘need to find your own new york’.  this place is famous for lots of famous reasons… empire state, central park, the skyline, the nightlife, the whatever.. but i found out what he meant mere days after he said it.  you might be into the ballet, opera, art exhibitions, r&b, grunge, you name it.  me? i’m into slanging matches with the irish ambassador, drinking in jazz clubs, just me and alex maskey from sinn fein, going to a black tie dinner in a red dress and killer heels and having pints with the author of the seminal book on the shankill butchers.  and whatever you’re into in new york; that’s what you get.  it’s been a roller-coaster of venues, people, events, networking, receptions, introductions, business cards like confetti and i just wish i’d done it years and years ago. 

went to a book launch last week; how the irish invented new york slang.  it was great.  met a guy at the bar not there for the reading and we got talking and i said, so what do you do, let me guess, you’re a cop or fireman or something noble like that.. and he said, is it that obvious?  and i said, yea, and the bit about the fireman was just to lessen the blow.  we got talking and he worked homicide and we’re meeting up for me to pick his brains about murder cases for a book i’m writing.  i went to an afters party of this belfast man who’s successfully fought his extradition case and met lawyers who knew and worked with rosemary nelson (who i was honoured to work with for a short time when i worked for the sunday business post).   co-operation ireland (my old work crowd) came over as a fund-raiser for the new york marathon and we had dinner in a wall street restaurant and drinks reception in the irish consulate on park avenue.  i went to the two-day US-Ireland Forum, where i was tempted to go up to mark durkan and say ‘no surrender’ (apropos – for those of ye who don’t know, their only minister, ritchie, went to an unionist conference recently and said just that!!!!  her loyalist slogan went down a storm!  and the SDLP thereby joined the ranks of many former-nationalists before them including conor cruise o’brien and suzanne breen – aah, isn’t politics a wonderful thing?).  instead i just got drunk with alex maskey and had a good laugh about it.  i went to the irish voice 20th anniversary reception and met all manner of amazing irish people, who’ve made this city their own.. including the chair of the city hall here, christine quinn, who’s running for mayor and who invited me to help her with her campaign.  i said yes. 

and the thing is, it doesn’t discriminate.  i mean, whatever you’re into, it’s here.. the cream of your choice, on your doorstep.  i’m going to see stevie wonder tomorrow night.  stevie wonder doesn’t even do gigs anymore.  he does one-song wonders in gala charity events – if you’re lucky.  and he’s playing madison square garden.  and i’m going.  and next week, starting on sunday, a two week gala of people from the arts, theatre, politics, law, film, discussion and lectures will merge into a series of performances, films, commentary and debate entitled: A Question of Impeachment. “A unique series that gathers some of the most visionary minds of our time to explore and debate the case for the impeachment of President Bush and Vice President Cheney” -www.cultureproject.org.

then there’s the xmas/thanksgiving period coming up.

i’m heading out now to meet a chef at his and we’re going to toast our success at getting tickets to see stevie tomorrow.  i’m thrilled.

and it’s friday night, so i should be in the pub by now.

hope you’re all well and enjoying life.  and if not, come and visit me here in new york.. you’ve all got a place to stay.  just don’t all come at once.

grá,
suzanne

hallo all.

just over three weeks and this is the longest time i’ve ever been here.  holidaying and moving somewhere are very different things emotionally.  i knew i’d have some feelings about the move, but after i removed all expectations a few weeks before i left, i just had no idea what they would be.  largely, they’re this: when you go on holiday, you’re going for the escapism, the exotic, the difference.  you don’t live there but if you love it enough, you wonder what it might be like to live there and can’t imagine.  you can’t imagine because you’re a tourist.  end of.  when you actually move there, you seek the familiar, the known, the loved.  and that’s the difference between moving somewhere and only going there on holiday; wherever you live, you need the familiar.  you can learn to love the differences and make them familiar, and then, and probably only then, can you feel comfortable enough to call the place ‘home’.   this is the process that i’m going through now, i suppose, and i expect it’ll take about six months.  having said that, it does feel like home, just not familiar yet.

the ‘familiar’ comes from the same latin root as ‘family’, and it’s curious that what we become familiar with, we identify with and in turn, that becomes part of our identity; your job, your relationships, your routine, etc.  i’m missing home, but not for any particular reason or thing, except ‘the familiar’.  i’m aware that when i left ireland i not only gave up my job, my routine, my house, my friends in my day to day, my family, etc., but i gave up my life as i knew it.  i knew i was about to undergo a massive change, but i didn’t expect it to go to the core of who i am.  but there you go; moving to another country not only changes your life, but in some ways, it also changes who you are.  amazing.  on one of my last nights in dublin, ken o’shea told me (hilariously, with clenched fists) that what i was doing disgusted him because i was doing what every other person he knew wished they could do and that it takes serious balls to move to new york (he’s was a total riot that night, in hilarious form).  anyway.  i didn’t know what he meant.  but i do now.

i’ve often thought of myself as independent, but this is as great a challenge in independence as i’ve ever undertaken.  i lost my wallet the other day.  (those of you who know me well will know i had my handbag stolen in dublin a few weeks before i left and it alerted me to how alone and vulnerable i’d be if it had happened in new york – cancelling and ordering bank cards, new phone, notebooks full of numbers, contacts, etc.)  there wasn’t much money in it, but it contained my AIB bank card.  with that gone, i’m now relying on the part-time wage i get from my job here and another link to home, and security, was gone.  i’m delighted to be here and i’m glad i made the leap, but it is a leap and you do it on your own, no matter how many people you know here.

so, despite all the changes, all is well and i’ve been going out a lot and meeting rakes and rakes of new people.  you can almost taste the air of potential everywhere.  it’s very exciting, and daunting, but good nonetheless.  being irish here is like being given a gold card.  (i’ve been to a seminar/drinks reception run by the ‘irish american bar association of new york’; the irish consulate on park avenue where john o’shea of goal gave a wee speech and we all got hammered afterwards in a nearby bar; dublin 6 bar in greenwich village last night for a cooperation ireland event and i’m going to the consulate again on monday for a post-marathon thing and an irish voice event on tuesday .. not to mention the irish bars where you meet people who’ve known and lived with dear friends from back home – tiny city in that respect – and people you’ve lost contact with from back home, only to find they’re living here!)  you are part of a network instantly and people fall over themselves to assist you with whatever it is you’re into.  so far i’m looking for a proper job (though enjoying running the office of governance matters single-handedly – it’s just part-time and poor pay) and the jobs available here would just blow you away.  the opportunities here are magnificent.  the organisations, the type of work available, the connections to people.. if there are six degrees of separation in the world, in new york, there are three.  everybody knows somebody and there is no element of ego or greed about their contacts; people here are can-do orientated and will reach out to help you if they can.  it’s quite incredible.  the people i’ve met even from just being in bars is unreal. 

first of all nearly everyone here is either a lawyer or a writer or both. (i think i have a new apartment sorted for when i leave here – pics to follow if it comes thru – and if it does, the landlord will be the third writer i’ll have subletted from in new york this year!)  then there are the artists.  these people can’t help themselves but be characters.  millions of them are involved in film and i’ve met a couple of people working in the music industry (and i don’t mean bargain basement stuff – i mean working for sony, managing massive rap artists, etc.)  but everywhere you meet people who just want to do the best by you and give you numbers of people or ring people for you. it’s a can-do country. i met the president of a mediation corporation, who deals with ceo’s needing conflict resolution (!!) and we talked for hours and he promised me copies of his book on life coaching.  i met this couple once, two women, one of whom trains people to take the new york bar exams (i’m thinking of doing that – not to practice necessarily, but just to open doors in justice work) and the other gave me the name of the college where you can learn ballet as an adult (don’t laugh – it’s been a passion of mine since i was six – and better than yoga).  i got my top-two ‘how on earth can i..’ questions answered in one night, by these women sitting next to me in an irish bar on the upper west side (the dead poet – great pub).  amazing women.  and it amazed me to learn that despite how liberal new york is, gay marriage is still not legal (or recognised) here.  which, is frankly an abuse of someone’s civil liberties.  think of it; you’re estranged from your family cos they don’t like that you’re gay and you’re in a car accident and the hospital won’t let the one person who actually gives a shit about you into the ward, next of kin only.  and what happens if you’re in a vegetative state?  you get carted off to the very people who’d rather not ever see you again and your partner has zero legal rights to get you back.  it’s disgusting.  but it’s not just extreme life examples; it’s taxes and tax breaks and all that stuff.  the reason for it is that while the city of ny is liberal, the state of ny is huge and very ‘conservative’ (euphemism for right wing crazies) and it’s the archaic ‘first past the post’ voting system here, not proportional representation (the brits use FPTP to keep the lib dems out of power, but PR operates in the north, as well as the south of ireland).  i met an old friend of alec’s here last night, pat moroney, and he tellingly told me that back home, his make-or-break question to someone was whether they were pro-life or pro-choice.  here, he said, it’s whether or not they believed in evolution!!  (believe me, there is no meritocracy on intelligence here.)  you’ve no idea!  the flat-earth brigade is alive and well in the states and they are a scary-scary bunch of people.  no amount of reason or logic, or evidence, can convince these people that darwin’s theories were actually true.  (the classic argument: ‘why else were they called ‘theories’?')  but apart from dulling their own microscopic lives, these people have the vote!  they voted in bush, twice, and he’s a war-monger.  and of course, the major news here is the ‘war on people’ being waged by george w, with his talk of world war III and iran is slowly, finally, sinking in to the general electorate.  i am convinced he is simply and solely driven by greed.  it’s heart-breaking.  whatever about iran’s nuclear policy, bush wading in with his war-mongering size 12′s, won’t encourage diplomatic relations.  it’s like smirnoff – leaves you breathless.  i bought a film on dvd recently called ‘syriana’, george clooney and matt damon; if you haven’t seen it, go rent it out.  it’s excellent.  it’s not your average hollywood fodder, which makes it better, but it drives to the heart of the oil crisis and how and why the ‘weapons of mass illusion’ story was concocted and reveals the modus operandi of the governing elite – that we from the north of Ireland know only too well.  it’s disgusting. 

so, apart from the people, i’ve been tasting a bit of new york life too and soaking up the city.  i bought a bike, took myself off round manhattan on it, taking in the different neighbourhoods and vibes.. all like mini cities. took myself to chinatown, where, in a dimly-lit room with 12 other people on plinths, a chinese masseuse dug her elbow into my shoulder blades for $20 and i had sushi and a bottle of ching tao for mere pence afterwards.  there’s an amazing wee restaurant in the east village, name of it escapes me but it’s not on the web anyway, japanese, that is about 10ft wide and 20 long, with a bench in the middle that runs the length of the place, with the cooking on one side and the eating on the other, and a high bar over which the chefs hand down the food to you as they’ve cooked it. slightly spiced marinated bamboo shoots, seaweed, scallion, red pepper mix and soy sauce.  $2.75.  miso on the side and spicy noodle ramen. $7. six pieces of fresh sushi $4 in another wee place where you watch him roll it in front of you and eat it with chopsticks, walking down the street.  can’t beat it.  for any of you thinking of coming over, you must visit thai market restaurant, thaimarketnyc.com.  and the food that you can get in corner delis here and in millions of tiny take-outs is just way better.  the equivalent of fast food take-out joints here can mean thai spring rolls and edamame, miso in a cup and toasted flake almond, chick-pea, alfalfa and spinach salad, chopped, and any kind of soup.  clean fast food.  if you go looking for it you can get greasy dripping burgers too, i’ve just not eaten any.  

and it was hallowe’en recently and new yorkers love it nearly as much as xmas. decorations have littered gardens near here since i arrived; 7ft high inflatable ghosts, lit up from within.. if they’re still there in the next few days, i’ll take pictures.  my words couldn’t do them justice.  they remind me of the efforts some people in newry go to at xmas, to cover their houses with lit up santas, snowmen, sleighs, elves, tinsel, strings of lights, illuminated ‘snow’, you name it – the more, the better.  quite something.  outside one house on this street, two ku klux klan-like ghosts hang suspended by the necks from a tree.  one wonders if people with a social conscience live there. and then there’s the dressing of the people. men dressed as women in micro-dresses and blonde wigs.  the worst by far i saw was two guys dressed as one pair of breasts.  huge billowing balloons with dark erect nipples pointing out the front of each.  wandering around the subway they looked like a right pair of eejits.  maybe that was the point.  going around the subway in a white dress, wings and halo, probably i looked as bad.  but the good bit was, nobody cared. 
and i’ve totally given up smoking and i’m relieved.  off them about two weeks now.  i’d been looking forward to it and had planned to give up before i left ireland, but when it came down to it, it wasn’t hard at all.  i don’t miss it.  i’m certain people only smoke because they’re bored.  i know that’s why i smoked.  boredom is a killer. 

been busy this last while, trying to find another apartment (this sublet expires dec 12), which is hell in new york, and have come to love the flavours of people on craigslist.com.  unbelievable.  so far i’ve come across scammers, pimps, thieves and quirks online and that’s just in the accommodation section.  before i found this delightful place that i’m in now, i was looking on craigslist for a sublet and i found an ad saying; ’1 bedroom to let. no windows. suitable for person without a need for kitchen or bathroom.’ i kid you not. what exactly does that mean? people without orifices only need apply?  in the ‘housing wanted’ slots, you get people saying things like: ‘no weirdos please, i’m looking for a room, not a date’.  and it’s true.  found this ad in there.  couldn’t believe it. 
1 Room Studio that a man and a woman will be sharing together. Although I am not there all of the time, there is not a separate sleeping room. This is a Temporary Personal Guest Arrangement now with future possibilities and is not an offer to Sublet. No Pets and No Addicts please. Must be financially responsible, Unattached and Without Lovers of any kind. References & ID required. 

(My friend Jen tells me this is known as a ‘slut-share’.)
And then there are the freebies:

Do you like science? Physics? Math? Do you like to read? Do you wear tape on your glasses? We’ve got a ton of mathy/ sciencey/ physicsy texts for you! Please take them out of my house. It’s bad enough that the fiancee watches Battlestar Gallactica all day long, but the drunken late night math problems are getting out of hand. Please take these books. You can take the bookshelf too. 718-383-3971

there’s too much to tell you and i’m conscious that these are long and probably painful to read.. so i’ll wrap up soon, but i have to tell you about the new york recycling system.  you find all manner of household items in the street.  from beds to bookshelves, electrical items to books, you could furnish a whole apartment for free by checking the craigslist free site or just walking down your local street.  the other day i walked to the shop and there was a box of books on the lowest step of one of the neighbours’ house. the inhabitant happened to walk up the steps as i was passing and he said the books were mine if i wanted them.  i took maybe six, including some great art books, a booker winner and a sloppy rom-com film i’d not seen (and watched today; it was great).  today i walked to  the shop and fuck me (excuse my language, all you nicer people out there).. a three-inch long RED cockroach was ambling down the road alongside me.  i near had a hernia.  i could feel my entire intestine and colon circuit going into seizure inside me and i bailed it and legged it down the street in case the thing opened wings and flew at me. and then on the way back, i saw another one, although maybe it was the same one, i don’t know, but this one was squashed flat, presumably under the boot of some other poor bugger who hates them as much as i do but who has more of a killer instinct than me.  i have an inexplicable fear of cockroaches.  i can handle rats and spiders like they were old friends compared to them.  they are the spawn of satan.  anyone who doesn’t believe me, click here.
http://entomology.unl.edu/images/cockroaches/am_roaches.jpg

and on that note, i better go.  there’s loads more to tell you, but i fear for your sanity if you have to read any more.  this truly must be a chore for most of you.. excepting the writerly nerds among us.. but even then, i’m sure you dip in and out and don’t go headlong into reading these all in one go.  frightening idea.

my scalp is still prickling from having to find that effing picture on the web of those insects for you to get the full horror of me meeting two in the flesh today.. i swear, i hid my eyes behind my hand when the page came up.  truly horrific.  i hope you appreciate it.  my stomach is curdling.  you know some varieties can cause blindness in poultry?  and i think the australian and the american ones are easily the worst.  those buggers fly, fer fuks sake.  into your hair, under your clothes.. oh my god, i’m torturing myself here.  reminds me of a night in madrid, years ago, staying in a three apartment block complex with communal pool, etc, and ‘breaking in’ late at night and getting caught by the security guy and the three of us legged it in the dark and i ran over a squirming nest of the buggers in my bare feet and heard them crunch, etc. as i killed them.  i swear to god, i’m not over it yet!

anyway.  as ever, these don’t substitute for personal emails; they’re just so i don’t have to retype the same info over and over in many emails.  and if i actually got round to writing more frequently, maybe i could make them shorter.

much love and hope you’re all well.

tabhair féirín dom nó buailfidh mé bob ort!

suzanne
xxx

well..hallo there.

was muggy today for the first time.  overcast skies and sticky shirt.  good though.  better than pissy rain and wind whipping it up into your face.  hmmm.  fond memories of ireland.  actually, i seem to be making the emotional transition sub-consciously, rather than consciously.  i played down the move in my head and thought, ah sure, i’ll be grand once i get there.. and i am.  but of late i’ve been having really mad, very vivid dreams, that were so vivid, i can still recall them all.  shortly after i arrived, i had a major dream about brian o’driscoll (no details, thank you).  a few nights later i had a dream that i had my (as yet unsold) car stolen in dublin by someone who had the keys for a test-drive (no michele, it wasn’t you who handed them over – i reduced the price online by the way, down to e6,800, in case that guy’s still interested.. anyone else wanna buy a 1.4 ’02 Rover?), and the guards were incompetent in tracking down the thief, so as you do, i had to do it myself, found the thief, got evidence she’d nicked it, presented it to the geearrdee, whereupon they failed to arrest and press charges, blah, so i took a civil action (????!!!!! – WHAT is going on in my head?) to get the car and compensation.. ugh.. comic moment in the dream when my hero, BO’D, turned up in hallowe’en criminal costume (complete with eye-mask and ‘swag bag’ – you couldn’t make it up!) and made a mockery of the guards (in the garda station in omeath??!! – two rooms, usually devoid of guards) while i was stressed out of my bin trying to get them to take action – and of course i instead just burst out laughing… see?  not only is he the world’s best centre, but he has a talent for rescuing maidens in the middle of their nightmares. genius.  third manic dream was last night, and i was dancing some wild jig in a field at electric picnic (at next year’s gig!!??) amid roller-coaster mayhem, arm in arm with an old law student friend of mine i haven’t seen in over 10 years, eugene murphy.  nuts.  anyway.  suffice to say the move is taking its toll, but thankfully, not in my waking hours.

so. the other day, after my insides were complaining, i realised i’d not gone a day without booze/smoke in a few years, so i decided to give them both up, as a bit of an experiment.  it lasted a full day, broken only cos i had to have farewell drinks in the triple crown bar on 7th avenue with brian mcginley, the guy who works for cooperation ireland and helped me move here, but has displayed good sense and is leaving them tomorrow (they pulled out of giving me a job here at the last minute).  we walked in and there to greet me on the door was a wonderful poster of the man himself, green rugby shirt, scoring a try.  he gets everywhere. 

and i started work this week. prior to the start day on tuesday, i took the subway to manhattan to find out exactly where the place was and to time the journey. walking thru this neighbourhood to the train, i discovered that the population here has a fondness for virgin mary statues in their gardens.  in one street of maybe 40 houses, i counted at least eight standing between one and six foot high, not to mention the scores of little ones tucked under bushes and among flowers. my friend jen tells me that brooklyn is known as the borough of churches, which explains the legions of mary’s, but at one point a jesuit priest passed me, leading a posse of around 40 devotees along summit street (where i live) with a loud speaker, dressed top to toe in italian priestly garb complete with pointy black hat.  in the 7 minutes it took me to get to the subway, i passed four churches, all welcoming you with big signs, urging you to come in.  the one four doors up has a clock tower like big ben attached to it, with the hands stuck at 9.20, in an eerie way that reminds me of the clock that stopped in omagh after the bomb, in keeping with the community there for whom time stopped after such a colossal loss. i’m not sure what this community has lost, or whether religion will give it back to them, but it seems that catholicism is alive here in an archaic way, in a way that it was in our past. 

the church of st peter at the top of the road, whch hosts mass in spanish and was founded in 1836, had the land upon which it stands donated by one cornelius heeney from offally, god rest him. turns out he was a bachelor of extraordinary wealth (no connection implied) and was one of the first catholics to hold public office in new york, before retiring and devoting his life to charitable works.  he made his money in the fur trade (tsk!) but donated it all to the poor and to orphans when he left us, thru an act of legislation initiated for the purpose (!!).  he died in 1845 or thereabouts but by 1909 his trust had donated around a million dollars to good works.  ahh, makes your irish heart proud. god knows where he stood on the national question, mind, and as a raging catholic, i’d rather not guess.  but it’s pleasant to know we weren’t all gangs of new york back in the day.

aside from the god squads, the leafy tree-lined avenue with 5-foot wide granite flags (just beautiful) making up the pavement and the fallen leaves and crickets in the evening, the venture from the apartment to the subway is beautiful. Monstrous four-storey brownstones with flights of steps leading up to them, built over 150 years ago, are magnificent memorials to a better architectural age (no offence luke, kevin and sarah).  at $2m a piece, most of them are split up into floors or ‘family apartments’ of not more than 3 beds each.  usually they’re owned by families who moved out of the city to the quieter suburbs to raise children (even though from the roof – my living room window even – i can see great views of lower manhattan not more than 2 miles away).  back then, in the 80s, i presume carroll gardens was much as red hook is now – desolate and cheap, with huge palatial buildings in need of love and repair.  now that this area has gentrified and home owners here have rented out floors to cover their modest mortgages, the area has a settled feel to it, with young children in the morning waving goodbye to parents off to work, with the hispanic ‘help’ staying behind as child care.  toys litter the gardens and i laughed the other day to see three foot-high headstones standing alongside one another in the front garden of this monstrous house, with ‘soots’, or ‘cutes’, or whatever written on them, where the family pets are buried. notwithstanding the heart-ache of having a grieving four year old bemoan the loss of the family feline, what could possibly possess you to put a pet cemetery right in front of the main entrance to your house?  or, for that matter, on another house, a  “support our troops” sign in the window? ..not on my watch, i tell you..

anyway, having safely navigated the to and from work terrain, i stopped off in brooklyn to find cat food again (he eats special stuff and if you give him ANYTHING inferior, i kid you not, it’s simply not worth it.  i won’t go into details, but you can imagine.  and it’s not pretty.)  anyway, i was walking about, found the catfood and a grocery shop (where you can get already-peeled carrots, parsnips, some other root vegetable i couldn’t identify and celery, bunches of parsley and something else, all in one wee container for $3 or something.. i’ve been living off the most divine soup since) and stopped into a bar for a drink and a rest before i made the trek home.

i had asked a local (she was carrying a take-out coffee cup and marching with determination so i figured she didn’t look lost) if she knew where the local irish bar was (presuming there had to be one) and she directed me to a place called chipshop.  with a union jack in the window.  fer goodness’ sake.  i mean ireland is supposed to be the ‘most wonderful place to be’ in the world right now (according to some poll in the irish times today), so do people still not know where it is??  i mean, when a journalist asked samuel beckett once ‘vous et ingles, monsieur beckett?’, he replied ‘au contraire’.  so, i went into this british pub and, well, going in the stench of animal fat would’ve killed you stone dead. people were at the bar drinking and others were waiting for their take-out orders of fish and chips.  no joke.  the menu, worse still, boasted deep-fried chocolate – mars bar, twix, bounty, snickers, twinkles (?) – how in the name of the sweet lord could anyone eat that? – spotted dick (!), scotch eggs and bangers and mash. anyway, i ordered an ‘export’ pint of draft harp and it tasted like ale.  nice ale, but too heavy for lager. i didn’t bother trying to explain the difference, even though the man behind the bar, jimmy, should’ve known the difference, but instead sold it to me with an irish accent telling me it was ‘better than home’.  i told him that i doubted that and i was right.  he was a diminutive balding chap from Dundrum and after a while he pleasantly told me all the best bars to get GAA matches and the rugby (not that there’s any point to watching it now, except to see the brits getting slaughtered.. and we haven’t seen that with such satisfaction since february 24th this year in croke park) ..anyway, we were chatting and it occurred to me that he was a man at odds with his station. for a start, he was playing ‘sunday bloody sunday’ on the stereo and although he knew nothing about rugby (which is no mean thing to say about an irish man – a good friend of mine and a solid irish man, finbar boyle, told brian o’driscoll once in kehoe’s bar that he was 46 years old before he knew that there was no goalie in rugby), there was a ‘landsdowne road’ road-sign behind the bar!  but sweet lord among us, alongside it hung on the wall were two of the most hideous slippers you’ve ever seen in your life; a matching pair of oversized union jack slippers with – no, you couldn’t make it up – puppets of charles and diana, one in each slipper, buffeted up with a mini pillow behind each, as if in bed.  and i thought there were three slippers in that arrangement, until one had the other bumped off.  anyway, who cares?  there has to be more to life than discussing the seedy infidelities of minor european royalty, even if one of them is the head of the parachute regiment.  but which made the arrangement of relics behind the bar all the more incongruous.  here, as with our marching, coffee-wielding friend who gave me directions, it doesn’t seem to matter.

anyway, i think i’ve gone on for long enough, so i’ll sign off.  as ever, don’t feel obliged to read these.  there are better things you could be doing with your time.  like contemplating the long hard drive into winter facing you in ireland (for those of you who are there).  life could be worse; you could be in birmingham (uk).  and i’ve been there in winter and it’s where dante went through his nine circles of hell for inspiration (“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”).

much love,
suzanne
xxx

day four.

i can’t believe it’s day four already and i still feel that i haven’t woken up properly yet.  i seem to be wandering around in a daze, not quite believing that i’m here.  the emotional machinations of moving to another country are too tedious to go into, so i’ll spare you that.  suffice to say that it feels surreal.

sunday.   today my good friend jen and her new hubby josh arrived over to my apartment first thing this morning (after i woke from an enviable dream about brian o’driscoll – ok, i won’t bore you..) and we walked a block to the waters edge from where there are spectacular views of lower manhattan.  the whole area looks like the set out of ‘gangs of new york’; all disused industrial buildings, barren landscape, old empty streets and cobbled roads. most of the buildings are pre-war and the only signs of ‘life’ were old renovated 3-storey brownstone houses, a café and the odd artists’ studio (complete with cobblers’ paraphernalia and live kitten in the shop front window) and random items littering the ‘side-walk’; a foot-high virgin mary statue among weeds, a large breeze block with a printer perched on it and near a metal-processing factory, rusted metal life-sized horses mascarading as pieces of art.  apparently in brooklyn, the more disparate the items are to each other, the more credible your association to ‘cool’. i remember a bar in williamsburg a few years ago with neon fairy lights decorating the inside of the shop-front window, along with the torso and head of a plastic baby doll perched upright, wearing a ra-ra skirt and a WWII tin hat.  working out what that was trying to say is missing the point, i presume.  we walked about a mile to a super-size-me sized supermarket that was like a good food deli of mammoth proportions.  the food on offer is just incredible.  this has to be one of the reasons many people come here.  inside this 4,000 square ft ground floor shop there was a fish market, many deli counters selling salads of all kinds, towers of round blocks of parmesan cheeses the size of car tyres gently sweating in the heat and no end of vegetables and fruit stacked almost vertically in boxes with the open side face front.  a box of kiwis had one kiwi missing from near the bottom, taken no doubt to test the jenga effects of the stack.  how there aren’t more cartoon moments of spilled fruit mushed under trolley wheels, i don’t know.   fresh thai soup, crabmeat chowder, sea vegetables, sushi, noodle salad, fresh organic undiluted melon juice, you name it.. new york has it.  in spades.  outside the supermarket there was a cafe overlooking the water and josh, as a city planner, pointed out the old routes for barges and boats coming in and out of the lower three boroughs.  the statue of liberty stood in plain view and i promised myself i’d go to staten island soon for a day and walk around the museums and see the horror of how the irish got here in days past.  there was also a water taxi that will take you to manhattan for $6, should the notion take you.  and all day the sun shone like it was june.  after we dropped off the groceries jen and i took the subway to broadway to some ‘sample sale’ where, i kid you not, gorgeous designer clothes were being sold on the final day of the sale for $5 a piece.  we looked like we’d mugged some old ladies from a launderette when we were done.  later we met old college friends of jen and josh’s for burritos in park slope, brooklyn, where the guacamole man prepared two large fresh bowls of the stuff beside our table from scratch in a large herb grinder.. avacados, green chili, onion, tomato.. one bowl quite hot, the other inedible, and presented them to us with five dried banana slices in each for scooping it onto plates to eat with tortilla chips.  clean, fresh food.  can’t beat it. 

mind you, not everything is as clear as it might be; the beer that i bought on the way back home lists the calories, carbohydrates, protein and grams of fat on the can, but no alcohol content.  (i presume if it was alcohol-free it would’ve said.)  drinkers of coors light seemingly appear more concerned with their body fat index than with their alcoholism. 

for those interested in padraig’s welfare, he’s settling in great.  he doesn’t lie around, he luxuriates himself on the dark hard wood floors looking pleased with himself, and every night he has his mad half hour where he flails himself off furniture and runs around like a mad thing, leaping in the air at imaginary flies.  then he’ll stop dead in his tracks, check left and right and then dart off, looking like he’s acting in a bourne identity sequel.  he seems to have taken to new york living quite well.  and the flat is big enough for him to get lost for hours on end, enjoying, as he does, me wandering around calling his name and having to crawl under furniture to find him.  his litter tray is like a small house and i think i’ve finally cracked why he was reluctant to use such an inferior model back home.  four days in and, so far, no little presents hanging around behind the front door, ready to spread their glory when you come in at night.

last night sean o’driscoll came over and we drank beer and played old frames albums and felt like students again.  he’s doing great; career going well, the new owner of an apartment in park slope (15 mins away), great girlfriend.. all good.  but i played him the michael marrinan cd (sean’s from clare) and he spoke reminiscently of dublin, with all the pangs of a long-term emigrant.  but the truth is dublin has changed from being the creative hub it was 10 years ago.  the property boom and the subsequent plateau, the ambition for wealth, the expansion of businesses and the current mild economic uneasiness have all left dublin in a loop that’s going to take some time before it comes round to being dynamic again.  dublin is a fantastic city, no doubt about it, but for now, it seems small to me and there are benefits to going away in what i see as its current creative lull. don’t get me wrong, if i’d had the tenacity to face down the al qaeda fear in post-9/11 i would’ve moved here in october 2001 like i’d planned, but growing up in a war zone makes that environment passé.  i’m glad i didn’t then, and i’m glad i did now.

from where i’m sitting, i can see the lower manhattan skyline in full view (sans twin towers).  this flat really is amazing.  seriously, anyone wanting to visit – i recommend you arrive in november if you can.  although, that’s not to deter those who’ve said that they’ll come over for new year.. but this apartment, not only has it got two main sources of light back and front of the building (rare for new york), but the sofa turns into a double bed with a proper mattress and the roof views are lovely.  just letting you know.  and God knows where i’ll be in january. 

the light in the morning in my room is the kind of light you’d expect in the tropics; glaring and hot.  i took the curtains off the windows to maximise the effect.  waking up in the morning, two large windows throw in a glare of deep blue sky, the kind of which you’d see in australia or africa, and it does your heart good.  you know you’re far from home, but here’s the irony; though it’s hot and balmy and the environment is very different, it actually feels like home.  i felt it when i first arrived, but i put it down to suppressed excitement (when i took the cab from JFK, it felt like i’d been on holidays and had just arrived home).  in the intervening days i’ve not ventured out much, maybe fearing that the thrill of being here might be overwhelming (i was overwhelmed getting everything organised in the last few weeks and that was an endurance test that i’m recovering from), but instead felt content to sit at home, cleaning and tidying, making the place my own, or ‘nesting’ as mum would put it.

i’m reading ‘brendan behan’s new york’ at the moment and the man has a take on city living that is priceless (“A city is a place where you are least likely to get a bite from a wild sheep”), but he also says:  “New York is easily recognizable as the greatest city in the world, view it any way and every way – back, belly and sides.  …We don’t come to a city to be alone, and the test of a city is the ease with which you can see and talk to other people…and I’d say that New York is the friendliest city I know.  I knew an old Irishman who went there when he was 75 and ill, and like a Lourdes of light, New York cured him and he lived happily for years afterwards, a healthy and happy old man.  He painted my wife’s grandmother and his name was Jack Yeats, the father of William Butleter Yeats, the great poet of Ireland and the world” (sic).

i hope you’re all well and don’t take these missives as anything other than an update on what’s going on.. they’re no replacement for personal emails and i hope to stay in touch properly. as before, don’t feel obliged to read these, or read them to the end.. life’s short. starting work on tuesday, so i’ll be busy with that for the next few days, and a ‘welcome to the states’ party happening on friday, apparently..  i’ll be in touch at some stage.

much love,
suzanne
xxx

hallo all,

well, so far new york has been a blur of jet-lagged greyness and sleepy restlessness.  the flight was great, fluffy mr P (padraig, the persian cat) slept thru most of it and only once made a bid for freedom – at the x-ray bit of security, when i had to take him out to have the cat-box x-rayed.  he saw all the people and he tried to leg it.  the security guy thought this was hilarious and was pawing him making ‘aww’ sounds while padraig was drawing blood from my shoulder and i was looking at the x-ray machine, then to the cat-box sitting beside it, to the security guy pawing padraig and making him even more freaked.  a flat ‘eh, any time you like’ and yer man got on with his job.  all the stress and hassle of getting him to the vet weeks ago, to get him micro-chipped and get the vet to write a wee letter saying that he wasn’t infected with disease, which was apparently absolutely essential, was of no consequence going thru customs.  it seems that you can carry anything at all in with you so long as you carry it in a bag that hangs at hip-height.. thereby screening it from the guy in the booth, whose job it is to protect the nation from disease-wielding terrorists.  great.

i’m sitting here at home writing this, in this lovely apartment.  i doubt i’ll actually be able to afford such a great place when i move on in december (note to all those coming over: this is a great gaff. you’ll be very comfortable staying here. no such promises after december 15).  it’s a one-bed with a study, so it’s sort of a two-bed, huge bedroom and big and bright living room; exposed brick, wooden floors throughout, blah.  massive couch that turns into a more comfortable double bed than most you’ve ever slept in.  spent the most of the day (after waking up at 5am, not being able to lie there, contemplating going to south ferry municipal buildings near wall st just to enjoy the spectacle of the tai chi enthusiasts doing their thing as the sun comes up and and getting up to unpack and pottering about, ringing home and ringing rory – the chile – in sydney for an hour) shopping in downtown brooklyn.  this is the downtown brooklyn black district that stayed in the 70s.  geezers in dodgy leather jackets and sean coombs sunglasses, shops with tatty signs selling cheap gik and mega-amounts of *bling*, overweight ladies in cup-cake jeans and cheap shoes, shops selling underwear and computer keyboards (in the same shop).  it reminded me of birmingham (uk), except it was missing the pall of depression and the pissy weather. so, headed off to get the essentials; buy a ‘cell’ phone (hilarious episode with a black ali G character in the shop my side of the counter, who turned out to be a bona fide T-mobile dealer assisting the woman doing the sales on t’other side of the counter, but who also dealt in other matters), food (too much to say about that), booze and cat food.  got all the basics and walked back.  it was a beautiful walk .. had a brief encounter with a squirrel who was collecting nuts around the base of a tree on the street.  he saw me, paused, i paused, he ran.  i got some nuts, walked over and looked up thru the branches and caught sight of him.  he stared down at me and we had a brief nature-nurture moment.  it was lovely.  i threw the nuts down on the ground for him and got looked at by a nature-deficit passer-by.  and the sun came out.  it had been misty this morning when i climbed the steps to the roof at 5am.  the dawn was in its initial stages and the skyline’s contrast was blurred but you could make out the sweep of the river. it was great.  but coming home today, the rain was gone and the sun was beaming, keeping the dry winter air in the shadows.  but by the time i was heading back, i got the distinct feeling of being strung out on that too much daylight, not enough sleep vibe; the result of flying after not sleeping enough after being boozed up on a five-day bender.  staying in tonight.

on the up side, i’ve been sitting here listening to a cd given to me by “the legendary finbar boyle” (official title – the phoenix), by a man called michael marrinan, who sings a ballad about new york that became a mainstay for the last few months.. after i’d decided to move over here last july, i got a tad obsessive about getting back here and getting all the factors into play to make it happen.  during this time finbar gave me a copy of marrinan’s cd and while it’s old school irish ballad sentiment and sound, it cuts to the core like only that can.  great stuff.  if you’re inclined, you’ll get it in claddagh records.  totally worth it for track 2 alone.  imagine a co clare ballad with a lamenting air singing about the big apple, if you can..  i quote:

oh i love to be lodged in the place where you can’t go astray
oh i love to be found in the streets that run straight
oh i love new york, to walk in the crowds all alone
i’m homesick for new york
i hate leaving new york
homesick for new york
though new york it was never my home.

it was a bit of a mantra for me these last few months, just to get me thru the enduring hell of trying to organise everything in order to end my life there and to get me here.  if it got me thru, i thank you finbar.  and hearing it new in new york, it sort of fits as a bridge, a song that belongs in the process, not in the arriving.  i thank you finbar, cos it’s a truly beautiful song.

speaking of verses that are playing a hand in this, so far mostly-solo experience, i got an email from an ex-work colleague today, quoting some poet speaking of precipices (maybe that was my word, not his) between the past and the future and all you can see is the present.  all great stuff.
“The Sun-Dial at Wells College” (New York State)

The shadow by my finger cast
Divides the future from the past:
Before it, sleeps the unborn hour,
In darkness, and beyond thy power:
Behind its unreturning line,
The vanished hour, no longer thine:
One hour alone is in thy hands,
The now on which the shadow stands.

~ Henry Van Dyke 1911

having a wee mark geary moment now (second album), but earlier ‘love and theft’ (recent vintage dylan) was getting an airing.  and the very excellent ‘elbow’ album, ‘the leaders of the free world (are all just little boys throwing stones)’ has been a constant for the last last few weeks – thank you dave and alison!!! good memories and fantastic album (go buy it if you haven’t got it; a classic).  all this, nothing to the impending arrival after rory (brother) sent me a link for the new radiohead album – free if you want it to be free on the web right now.  those who want to pay for it online, can.  the ethos of capitalism is taking a right thrashing as a result.  all good.  but the record company still wants to keep the band on and release their album in january for the regular fee.  1.2 million copies “sold” already.  apparently it’s their best for 10 years.  i’ll send round a link to anyone who wants it.

there were pictures taken on the final night of the mini-marathon bender that i’ll post up on facebook.  the stags head.  great night.  the usual irish experience of introducing gangs of people to each other, where they either already know each other or where the odd party-member got a prompt to launch into lengthy conversations with a complete stranger that lead to them both heading off into the night not to be seen for several hours.

hope you’re all well. and sorry to those of you who didn’t get text messages from me after i landed here… my irish mobile phone is stubborn at the best of times, but it point blank refused to send any messages from here to anyone at all.  once i get all my details from its memory banks it’s being put out on the roof at dawn in a blindfold and being shot off the balcony.  video to follow on youtube.  piece of crap.  new number in new york is:

001-347-87-95-992

usual gmail account best to get me on.  more thrilling episodes to follow, no doubt.  if you can’t bear to endure them (answers on a postcard), don’t be shy.  life has to be more enthralling somewhere else.. taking these in large doses can’t be easy.

stay in touch,
love suzanne
xxxxxx