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 SongJohn DonneTeach me to heare Mermaides singing,Or to keep off envies stinging,And findeWhat windeServes to advance an honest minde.
Dinner tonight: Belgian beef stew, baby lettuce salad, new bread.
2 comments:
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.
Everything seems to talk to everything else, doesn't it?
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