i’m a few hours away from my long flight home. california is beautiful and full of green things and wild turkeys in the driveway but i am ready for asphalt and pigeons. and my wife. and all of you. plus karaoke is at bar nine on thursday! kathryn and i are working on a duet involving iggy pop, which means i get to take my shirt off. you can check facebook for evidence of my tendencies in that direction.
the wedding was so amazing! i have lots and lots of pictures that i would love to share with you. i managed to keep my shirt on for the entire weekend, even through the enormous group bollywood production! there’s video of that but no one has put it online yet. i hope it comes out soon!
i’m heading back into a whirlwind – on monday i’m meeting with both my oncologist to start the trial screening process and with the doctor that will be setting up my long term hepatitis C treatment. there’s a good chance that i’ll be going through both simultaneously, which sounds horrendous, but i’m trying not to jump the gun on worrying until i know the full details.
by the way, since i haven’t had a chance to post much about the kayaking trip, here’s a little taste. we saw a double rainbow! it was like this:
i usually do just fine with these pre-test fasting days. but maybe it’s the heat, or the fact that i worked last night, but i could really use a chewy new york bagel covered in lox or whitefish salad. ok i have to stop talking about food.
i’ll be out and about today with my data belt. and you thought fanny packs looked dumb! i’ll take lots of pictures for everyone.
what an amazing weekend! movie night with our new projector, swimming in the rockaways, brunch with a brand new baby. only problem was that it was freakin hot. sooooo hot. i’m nannying today for my neighbors and can’t wait to get to the new pier 6 playground to play in the fountains!
even though the scans have all been clean so far, i continue to deal with a lot of reflux and nausea, so we’re going to take a closer look with the camera pill a.k.a capsule endoscopy on thursday. it means another day and a half of fasting, but we found tumors in the endoscopy gap – an area of intestines that the upper and lower endoscopies can’t see – so it’s important that we rule out the appearance of any more. i just got a fancy new camera, so i’ll document the pill a little better than last time – lots of people asked about the pill and the monitoring system, so i’ll take lots of pictures for you all.
if anyone works in midtown, i’ll be bartending this wednesday at bar nine in hell’s kitchen. totally awesome rock n roll dive bar. see you there?
y’all know i loves the karaoke… almost as much as i like being on the news! ok that was totally awesome.
i’ll be at bar nine in hell’s kitchen tonight with bunnie england and the new originals to sing some rock and/or roll. you really should come. bring earplugs.
i’ve put in an early request for the song below – it seems awfully timely.
this weekend kathryn and i were lucky enough to attend the OMG cancer summit, a conference for young adult survivors and their caregivers and friends. there were panels on oncofertility, relationships, survivor stories, and even a keynote by ethan zohn, vassar grad and survivor winner (as in the CBS show).
the energy at the conference was something to behold. the bald heads, the shared experience of pain and suffering, the sense that we all were indeed the lucky ones – it was a powerful reminder of the tenuous hold we all have on our fragile lives.
our lives are all fragile, all fleeting, whether or not you have cancer. but being a young(ish) person and facing your mortality, facing the fact that your body is eating itself, you gain an enhanced sense of just how fragile you really are.
i would never wish the trials of cancer on anyone. but there are lessons to be learned. without the torture of the last two years, i don’t think i would truly appreciate the value of a hug from family and friend, the power of a letter, or a giant oversize novelty congratulations card (thanks bev). i would never hold in my heart the real and never-ceasing love that i expressed below.
so thank you, cancer. thank you for your lessons on life, and love, and death.
i’m still jetlagged, i think. but the scan yesterday knocked me out pretty good too.
there is so much to say about our trip out west. the music was amazing – my top five of the festival were dirty projectors, jonsi (of sigur ros), matt and kim, yo la tengo and the avett brothers, but fever ray, MGMT, jay-z, deerhunter, yeasayer, spoon, and atoms for peace (thom yorke and flea?!?) were also excellent. there were 80,000 people at coachella, crashing local cellular networks and personal neural networks alike: for example, this poor man.
after three days and long nights of music and mayhem, we managed to make it to joshua tree (yes, we listened to U2) and the antelope valley poppy reserve before fighting our way through the snowy, winding roads to yosemite.
yosemite gave us a cloudy striptease, revealing its majestic peaks and snow-covered meadows piece by piece. we were hoping to make it to the top of upper yosemite falls to spread a portion of my grandfather’s ashes, but the snow was so thick on the narrow trail that we stopped halfway up at columbia rock. the views weren’t quite as advertised – by the time we reached the rock, the snow was falling so thick that the valley floor was barely visible, much less the towering granite spires surrounding the valley. but we soldiered on along the valley floor trail, where i looked a coyote in the eyes and watched as the clouds floated in and around the high rock walls around us. i’m grateful we decided at the last minute to upgrade our tent cabin to one with insulation and heating. what a contrast, to go in 24 hours from 95 degrees to 25 degrees.
and now we are home, back in lovely brooklyn, and today is my least favorite day – the day between my scan and receiving the results. this is a big one. if the scan is clean, my doctors will declare me in remission. as i’ve said before, remission from my aggressive and widely metastasized disease is likely not the end of this – although it would obviously be wonderful if that were the case. i’ve spent the day so far worrying and thinking about “life after cancer.” i don’t think for me that there is a life after cancer – there is only a life with cancer.
and the new york times happens to be reflecting on just that topic. check out this powerful photo collage of some of the 12 million (!!!) american cancer survivors.
tomorrow (at 6 am, ugh) kathryn and i fly west for the coachella music festival! we’ll also be making stops in joshua tree, yosemite and the bay. i could not be more thrilled!
the lineup this year is pretty stellar – we’re going to have to do some serious stage-hopping!
i’m nervous about being standing around out in the sun all day. but i’m prepared – not only am i totally stocked up on sunscreen, but i also have a note from my doctor (thanks team) explaining my condition and the medical necessity of a sunbrella, my late grandfather’s awesome go-go-gadget cane that converts into a seat, and my many medications which i have to keep on my person.
for those of you in the bay – we’ll be coming into town thursday the 22nd and leaving at dawn on saturday the 24th. we’re planning on being at beckett’s to see the lovely and talented ms. annie bacon and friends. we’ll be staying with annie at the tower on friday evening the 23rd so i hope you can come over for a visit.
when we return, i immediately have a PET/CT scan – this is a big one. i’ll get the results april 28th and will keep you all posted.
i’ll try and get an occasional mobile post but between those, i recommend spending some time perusing the sites of my many blogfriends. they present quite a slice of american life and make for pretty interesting reading!
thanks, new york times, for shattering my dreams. as usual.
sorry… i know this band sort of sucks. but i love this song and i couldn’t find any footage of zappa himself except this rough clip which doesn’t even seem to be synced at all.
to my fellow new yorkers – and, i would guess, as well, to the residents of the eastern seaboard in general – it’s another wicked april scorcher today. i hope you’re all being good to your body and WEARING SUNSCREEN. seriously, skipping the sunscreen is soft suicide.
i hope you’ve all read the sunscreen speech by chicago tribune columnist mary schmich - it is not, as the internet tried to claim for many years, written by kurt vonnegut – although vonnegut’s not writing this speech makes him no less awesome. as we head into commencement season, i can’t imagine a better collection of advice to any green graduates out there. it is about so much more than sunscreen… and yet it is entirely about sunscreen. enjoy.
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. Scientists have proven the long-term benefits of sunscreen, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or celebrate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders. Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it is worth.
i am not on a boat. i am on a bus. i’m going to boston for the night and coming back with what sounds like a gorgeous dining room set. it’s sort of a wedding present (although we don’t want wedding presents… yet…). i haven’t seen it but it’s supposed to be beautiful, old oak, matching chairs etc. and i’ll get some time with my dad, and my cousin, and some old friends. which is always nice.
i have been up to so much that it’s hard to remember all of it. we had a massive jam session on friday with lyrics and chords projected on to the wall. with some amazingly talented musicians and friends from across the country present, we managed to banjo/harmonica/handclap/found object percussion our way through decades of classic sing-a-longs. as usual, we performed part of your world from the little mermaid. the song below (hey! they’re on a bus too!) was pretty awesome as well, thanks to my favorite personal trainer tickling some serious ivories.
spring is in full effect here (no more winter, please!) and we are taking full advantage. our friend works at a mindblowing art studio in red hook and we rode our bikes to visit him. they have been working on a stop motion movie of a barrier reef for many years and it was remarkable to see. it is made entirely of found objects. everything around the studio was just beautiful, creative, entrancing, magical. here is a bird made from strips of pizza boxes. it is animatronic.
in red hook, looking out at the harbor in its glorious magnificence, the statue of liberty towering over the serene blue water, we took care of some unfinished business. you may have forgotten that a few weeks ago we hosted a ball-off, a potluck where everything had to be shaped like balls. the crowd favorite was a ball that was really more of a work of art. it was called SpHERE. it was a giant popcorn ball, two feet across and dyed groinstrong pink, which i always appreciate. even with a good crowd, we barely made a dent in the thing. so on saturday, standing on the edge of the water, we set the ball free.
thus the SpHERE completed its artistic life cycle, as we returned the popcorn back to its natural oceanic habitat. and it will find new life in the bellies of the many birds, gulls and terns and others, that swarmed the marshmallow-covered gooey goodness. the SpHERE held its shape for a remarkably long time as it floated along the breakfront. i hope birds like marshmallows.
of course sunday started with brunch, as sundays should. as many of you know, the last section of old elevated subway track in manhattan has been converted into the high line park. it is absolutely stunning, a new way to look at the city, a new way to see the urban environment in all its glory and chaos. the park is full of interesting, experiential art, like the installation of stained glass that slowly shifts in tone and mood as the day passes and the sunlight and shadows crawl.
the art and the stroll with my loving and lovely wife was not all the day had in store for us. above the high line sits the standard hotel, which has become infamous for its exhibitionist clientele. the windows of the hotel look down on the park, and as kathryn and i walked in serious conversation, we glanced up and saw a couple at their window. they were draped in towels. they waved. we waved. suddenly OOPS! the man’s towel fell. it must have been an accident…
this coming saint patrick’s day marks four years since i moved to new york. the word on the street is that it takes five years to be a local.
but i have now seen a naked man at the window of the standard hotel.
