Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Home again, and slowly recovering from sleep and laundry disruption.

Best street performances in NYC: As I was riding the F train into Manhattan, four guys who looked like they might be retired Navy seamen stepped into the car and started singing loud, tight, crisp doo-wop, and they were great. The next afternoon, in Columbus Circle, three twenty-year-old boys were breakdancing, and they were also great. My friend Steve put money into their hat; and when one of my sons asked him how much money he'd given them, Steve said, "I gave them a lot. Those guys shouldn't have to work at other jobs." (Nonetheless, I don't think Steve gave them a salary; maybe more like dinner money.)

from Song

John Donne

Teach me to heare Mermaides singing,
          Or to keep off envies stinging,
                    And finde
                    What winde
Serves to advance an honest minde.

Dinner tonight: Belgian beef stew, baby lettuce salad, new bread.


Sheila Byrne said...

Donne's poem reminds me of Eliot's "Prufrock" - "I hear the mermaids singing, each to each/ I do not think they will sing to me." Did Eliot hear the mermaids of Donne, and feel sadness, rueful that the songs were nearly over?

Those mermaids~ make you realize how interconnected all of literature, and poetry and life in general is.

Dawn Potter said...

Everything seems to talk to everything else, doesn't it?